After the cracking of eggs came the breaking of myths. Prime among them was the proposition that this was a contrivance not worth watching – only half true.

It was fast, frantic and furious. It was unhinged and it was dramatic. A contest between ‘world-class’ athletes? Eddie Hearn wildly oversold that one, as he did many other things in this marketing gimmick in the names of Eubank and Benn, but there were truths told in the decibels.

Much like Tottenham Hotspur can thrill in spite of their inadequacies, so too did the tenants of their stadium on Saturday night.

Within that, we might return to a theme of the week. Was this showbiz or elite sporting competition? The answer to that one was pretty obvious by the close of the 12th round.

Primarily, it can be noted that as dance partners, Conor Benn and Chris Eubank Jnr delivered an excellent spectacle. And neither man made a spectacle of himself.

Crucially, that applies to Benn in particular. He lost by 116-112 on three cards, but for all the questions we might ask of his validity, of those failed drugs tests and the lack of clarity around how he was cleared, he contributed to an entertaining fight.

Despite travelling through two weight classes to take on a bigger, more seasoned opponent, he was not crushed. He was not over-matched. Not by a long shot.

Nor did he, or Eubank Jnr for that matter, look anything close to title level.

Keeping to the Benn theme, he was raw, wild, a fighter powered by heart over technique. There were times in the opening rounds when his overhand rights were missing by a foot or more. It was crude, but a close encounter will always compensate the punters.

And yet we should return to the subject of contrivance. Of marketing forces and hype that lifted this battle of competent, unspectacular boxers far beyond its natural place.

In this context, just consider the location and the number of those who wanted to see it. The crowd of 67,000 is approximately the same as the combined total for two fights between dads whose ability utterly dwarfed that of their offspring.

The purses also warrant attention. At around £7million apiece, they were roughly equal to the biggest ever payday of Joe Calzaghe, who, in his prime, could have easily avoided every mad lunge had he taken on the two of them at the same time.

Elite? Not close. Fun to watch? Absolutely.

It would be po-faced to make too much of a serious point about that. But boxing’s hype train lost its brakes long ago and this night, and the way it was built on marketing alone, was perhaps the prime example of the genre.

By the time the ring walks began at 10pm, the shark had already been jumped.

In the first instance, it meant the arrival of Chris Eubank Snr, whose legacy and that of Nigel Benn was leveraged so shamelessly to make this fight.

The surprise there, such as it was, is that he turned up. As the prime voice against this bout, he was expected to be elsewhere, fuming about the rehydration clause he felt would endanger his son’s life. According to Eubank Jnr’s dubious claim on Thursday, their estrangement had extended to ‘years’.

But here he was, the star of a big reveal and at his lad’s side, wearing a sheriff’s badge on his fur-lined coat.

In proximity to that made-for-social-media moment came the extended broadcast in the stadium of some of video game - no opportunities were missed for a bit of product hawking here. With all that going on, the appalling and obnoxious former champion Billy Joe Saunders was denied access to Eubank Jnr’s dressing room.

He had been tasked by Benn to supervise the hand-wrapping – yet another contrivance. That one fell flat. The fight did not, which was something of a small mercy.