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“21 YEARS OLD — AND HE JUST DID WHAT NO ONE HAS DONE IN 32 SEASONS.” Robert Irwin just stunned the entire country — judges, fans, even the other finalists. At 21, he didn’t just win the Mirrorball Trophy… he took it in the closest vote the show has ever seen. Backstage, people were whispering that no one expected him to dance like that — sharp, fearless, and full of something you can’t teach. When it was over, Robert leaned to a friend and said quietly, “I just wanted to make my family proud.” And he did. Terri and Bindi were in tears, watching the Irwin legacy light up a stage far from the wild. The finale? People are calling it the most heart-stopping moment in DWTS history.

Robert Irwin Crowned Champion of “Dancing with the Stars” Season 34 After Historic 72 Million Votes

“Dancing with the Stars” season 34 has officially crowned its winner — and after an unprecedented 72 million live votes during the finale, wildlife conservationist Robert Irwin and partner Witney Carson took home the coveted Len Goodman Mirrorball Trophy on Tuesday, Nov. 25, 2025.

The finale delivered one of the most competitive showdowns in DWTS history, with five outstanding couples vying for the trophy and performing across three intense dance rounds. Fans were treated to a packed night of ballroom magic, emotional moments, and show-stopping performances.

The Final Five Couples

The season 34 finalists included:

  • Robert Irwin & Witney Carson
  • Alix Earle & Val Chmerkovskiy
  • Dylan Efron & Daniella Karagach
  • Elaine Hendrix & Alan Bersten
  • Jordan Chiles & Ezra Sosa

With every couple giving arguably their strongest performances of the season, the atmosphere inside the ballroom was electric.

Robert Irwin’s Victory

Robert Irwin, the son of the late Steve Irwin and a beloved wildlife conservation advocate, captured America’s heart throughout the season with his passion, humility, and steadily growing dance talent. He and Witney Carson ended the night with an impressive 89 out of 90 total points, sealing both the judges’ praise and the fans’ overwhelming vote.

Alix Earle, the Florida-based influencer who became a breakout fan favorite, ultimately placed second — despite earning an extraordinary perfect 90/90 across all rounds.

Round-by-Round Breakdown

Round 1: Judges’ Choice

Alix Earle opened the night with a samba to “Hip Hip Chin Chin,” earning her first of three perfect scores.

  • Alix Earle & Val — 30
  • Dylan Efron & Daniella — 28
  • Elaine Hendrix & Alan — 30
  • Robert Irwin & Witney — 29
  • Jordan Chiles & Ezra — 29

Round 2: Instant Dance Challenge

Alix continued her streak with a perfect Cha-Cha to “Where Is My Husband” by Raye.

  • Alix Earle & Val — 30
  • Dylan Efron & Daniella — 30
  • Elaine Hendrix & Alan — 27
  • Robert Irwin & Witney — 30
  • Jordan Chiles & Ezra — 30

Round 3: Freestyle

Every finalist delivered a perfect freestyle routine, including Robert’s high-energy performance that earned roaring applause from the audience.

  • Alix Earle & Val — 30
  • Dylan Efron & Daniella — 30
  • Elaine Hendrix & Alan — 30
  • Robert Irwin & Witney — 30
  • Jordan Chiles & Ezra — 30

Special Performances

The finale opened with a spectacular group number to “Never Can Say Goodbye” by The Communards, choreographed by Joey Pizzi. Fans also enjoyed returns from all season 34 cast members, who danced to:

  • “Sugar on My Tongue” by Tyler, The Creator
  • “Applause” by Lady Gaga
  • “I Don’t Dance” by Alexander Jean

DWTS Finale Air Time

The “Dancing with the Stars” season 34 finale aired Tuesday, Nov. 25, 2025 from 8 p.m. to 11 p.m. ET on ABC, with streaming available on Hulu the following day.

Video: Finale Opening Number

Video: Robert Irwin’s Full Dance Journey

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Golden Oldies

A YOUNG SOLDIER STOOD UP IN SILENCE. STEVE PERRY DID SOMETHING NO ONE EXPECTED. The arena was loud, but Steve Perry noticed the quiet first. Near the back, a young soldier stood at attention, hand raised in salute, eyes fixed on the stage. Steve stopped singing. Not dramatically. Just enough to change the air in the room. He asked the soldier to come forward. No speeches. No patriotic slogans. Steve took the microphone off its stand, signed it slowly, and placed it into the soldier’s hands like it weighed something real. The soldier’s voice shook. “In the desert… your voice was the only thing that sounded like home.” Nights on deployment were long. Cold. Dangerous. A small radio. One cassette. Journey songs replayed until the tape wore thin. That voice helped him sleep. Helped him breathe. Helped him survive. Steve, now in his mid-70s, didn’t say a word. He just held the soldier’s hand. One man who carried war. One man who carried songs. And a silence louder than applause.

Golden Oldies

THE ONLY TIME THE WORLD SAW “PRODIGY” DAVID GARRETT’S HANDS TREMBLE WHILE HOLDING HIS VIOLIN The world knows David Garrett as a rock star with a violin — proud, fearless, and impossibly fast. But inside the small room that smelled of old wood and fading memories, in Ida Haendel’s home, he was only a shy boy again. In her final days, David canceled his crowded schedule and flew back to be with her. She lay there, the hands that once shook the classical world now thin and fragile. She whispered, “Play for me — but not for an audience. Play for your soul.” David lifted his violin. No stage lights. No electronic band. He played Bach’s Chaconne — a piece of sorrow and redemption. Tears from the “prodigy” fell onto the body of his priceless Stradivarius. He played more slowly than ever before, as if trying to hold each second of her life in place. Ida said nothing. She only smiled faintly and closed her eyes, as though his music were a boat carrying her to the other side. After the funeral, David found a small piece of paper hidden inside Ida’s violin case — something she had slipped there during their last meeting. On it was a single, shaky handwritten line… a sentence that would forever change the way he played the violin.

Golden Oldies

THE VOICE SLEPT FOR TWO DECADES… UNTIL DEATH WOKE IT. Steve Perry once swore he would never sing again. He walked away from the band, from the spotlight, and buried his golden voice in solitude. Then Kellie appeared. A love that came late—but struck like lightning—just as she was fighting the final stage of cancer. They knew time was running out. On long nights in the hospital, Steve didn’t sing for arenas or crowds. He sang softly for just one person, trying to ease her pain. Before she passed away, Kellie made him promise something—cruel and loving at the same time: “Don’t hide anymore. Promise me you will live… and you will sing.” His comeback album was born from that promise. When Steve stepped into the studio to record No Erasin’, he asked for the lights to be dimmed. The engineers said he stared into empty space, as if Kellie were standing there in front of him. And there was a small handwritten note he left on the sheet music that day— a line so quiet and so painful that everyone who read it had to turn away, just to hide their tears.

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BRENDA LEE STILL REMEMBERS CLOMPING AROUND IN PATSY CLINE’S BOOTS, YEARS TOO BIG FOR HER FEET. That friendship began in the worst possible way. Brenda was a girl working the country circuit with her mother when a promoter took the box office and vanished, leaving the two of them stranded far from home with nothing to show for the night. Club owners did that constantly to the women on those bills, and a mother and a young singer had almost no way to fight it. Patsy found out, and she took them both in. “Miss Patsy took us under her wing,” Brenda has said. That was the pattern with Cline. Groceries bought for younger women who had none. Rent covered so somebody could stay in Nashville one more month. Work handed to friends who needed it more than she did. She was nearly twelve years older than Brenda, who has always described what she felt for her as something closer to sisterhood than admiration. Cline died in a plane crash on March 5, 1963, at thirty years old. Brenda Lee was eighteen. She is still telling people what that woman did for her family in a town where nobody else would.

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ON APRIL 2, 1964, ONE OF THE BEST-SELLING SINGERS IN THE WORLD WAS NINETEEN, ELEVEN MONTHS MARRIED, AND THE MOTHER OF A DAUGHTER WHO HAD ARRIVED SIX WEEKS TOO SOON. Julie was born at Vanderbilt Hospital in Nashville. Six weeks early in 1964 carried a weight it does not carry now, and Vanderbilt happened to be one of the few places in America built for it. One of the country’s first newborn intensive care units had opened there three years before, the work of Mildred Stahlman, who gave much of her career to understanding why premature lungs fail. Brenda Lee already knew what it meant to carry a family. Her father died in a fall at a construction site when she was a child, and she became the household’s main earner. She married Ronnie Shacklett in April 1963. He ran his own business outside the music industry, and they are still married today, more than sixty years later. Julie came home. She grew up, married in 1986, and in 2002 she sat down and helped write her mother’s autobiography. The baby who arrived six weeks early is credited on the cover, next to Brenda.

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HIS ASHES WENT INTO THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. NO GRAVE. NO HEADSTONE. THERE IS NOWHERE FOR FANS TO STAND. Fourteen gold albums. Eight platinum. Poet Laureate of Colorado in 1974. In 1975 the Country Music Association named him Entertainer of the Year — the genre’s highest honor. The man reading the winner’s name onstage was Charlie Rich, the previous year’s winner. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, set the card on fire, then announced “my friend, Mr. John Denver.” Denver was watching by satellite from thousands of miles away. He accepted graciously, with no idea what had just happened. On October 12, 1997, he took an experimental Rutan Long-EZ up over Monterey Bay. Fifteen minutes later it went into the water. Investigators concluded he had likely caught a rudder pedal while twisting in his seat to reach an awkward fuel valve. He was 53. Police had to fly his fingerprints in from Colorado to identify the body. Then came the part Nashville had no say in. Colorado ordered its flags to half-staff. His service was held five days later at a Presbyterian church in Aurora, led by a retired Air Force chaplain, and his ashes went into the mountains he had built a career singing about. In 2007 “Rocky Mountain High” became an official state song. In 2011 he became the first person ever inducted into the Colorado Music Hall of Fame. The Country Music Hall of Fame still hasn’t called.

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HE SPENT HIS LIFE SINGING ABOUT THE SKY — AND ON A CLEAR OCTOBER AFTERNOON, THE SKY IS WHERE HE WENT. He was the man who made an entire generation homesick for a place they had never been. “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” “Rocky Mountain High.” “Annie’s Song.” A voice so bright and unguarded that critics sometimes mistook the warmth for simplicity — and millions of listeners knew better. Flying was never a side interest for him. He held a pilot’s license, he collected aircraft, he came from a family of Air Force flyers. The open air was not a metaphor in his songs. It was where he actually lived. On October 12, 1997, he took an experimental Long-EZ aircraft up over Monterey Bay, California. It was a plane he had recently acquired and was still learning. He was 53 years old. The aircraft went down into the water. He was killed on impact. The cruelty was in the details that came out afterward. Investigators found the fuel selector valve had been placed in a position nearly impossible to reach from the pilot’s seat — he would have had to turn and twist his body to switch tanks. The NTSB concluded he likely ran a tank dry and lost control while reaching behind him for that handle. A design flaw. Inches of reach. That was the margin. The contrast was almost unbearable. The man who had written the most joyful songs ever recorded about mountains and open air, who had sung for presidents and testified before Congress about the environment, died in seconds in the element he loved most. But what he left behind was never confined to those final moments. “Take Me Home, Country Roads” is now sung in stadiums in countries he never toured, by people who have never seen West Virginia. His environmental work outlived him by decades. The story of what he built — and what it cost him to live that fully — is still being told.