Tim Tszyu sat on his stool, a vacant look in his eyes as in front of him, Bakhram Murtazaliev celebrated a monumental, career-defining victory.

His stunned expression was matched by that worn by his team.

The comeback had fallen flat on its back, felled four times inside eight brutal minutes by the awesome power in the hands of the 23-0 Russian now celebrating in the opposite corner of the ring.

How did it go so wrong?

A year ago, Tim Tszyu was untouchable.

Unbeaten and unmatched, the entire super welterweight division was wide open in front of him.

Super fights against the biggest names in the sport — Jermell Charlo, Terence Crawford, maybe even Canello Alvarez — were being firmly pencilled into his calendar.

Now? Those dates look a long way off.

Credit has to be given to Murtazaliev.

The Russian came to Florida with a game plan and stuck to it, doing to Tszyu what most expected Tszyu to do to him: tenderise with the jab and unload with the power, boxing his way to a world title.

Tszyu, by contrast, was not the watchful, patient fighter that mowed his way through the names in front of him in Australia with an ease that suggested such great things.

In fact, there's a case to be made that Tszyu was arrogant, dismissive of his opponent's record and willingness to fight.

Former two-time welterweight champion Shawn Porter, seconds before Tszyu walked to the ring, counselled viewers on Main Event that Tszyu needed to box first, punch second.

That is, be wary of a man who will look to outwork Tszyu with a high tempo but inaccurate work-rate and earn the right to land the knockout blow.

Porter though, perhaps overestimated Tszyu.

Perhaps he and Tszyu both underestimated Murtazaliev, too.

That's what four-weight world champion Crawford presumed on social media. 

"Tim thought he had an easy one," wrote Crawford on X. 

"Took this dude lightly and was worried about other fighters."

Nobody will know whether Tszyu took Murtazaliev lightly except him.

But there's no doubt that this second career defeat in a row leaves Tszyu's status as one of the division's big hitters in tatters.

The manner of Tszyu's first professional defeat was unfortunate: A split decision loss to Sebastian Fundora after a split in his forehead that made abattoir workers wince served to enhance Tszyu's aura as a throwback fighter.

But the echoes of that defeat will now seemingly reverberate throughout Tszyu's entire future.

That venomous aura has vanished, obliterated with the same speed that Murtazaliev tore him apart.

In the ring after his loss, Tszyu said that everything went wrong from the first shot that he took.

That's not quite true though — it was actually a first round clash of heads that turned the tide irrevocably in the direction of the champion.

The response from Tszyu to the head clash was immediate.

He backed away and instantly raised his glove to his head, staring at what he assumed would be another fountain of blood pouring from another gaping wound, perhaps surprised to see his palm come away clean.

Distance diagnosis is problematic at best, but it appeared an unconscious reflex in response to a moment that must have played over and over in his head ever since last March.

Hindsight is useless in sport aside from as a vehicle for hacks to make a point.

But lazy tropes aside, one wonders what the result would have been had the fight against Fundora been ruled a no contest?

It would not have changed the injury. The blood would have still been spilt, the head still split.

But there would have been no blemish to the record. 

No negative association between blood and defeat. 

No surrendering of a belt that carries such currency in this brutal sport where you are only as good as your last result.

Instead, that bloody mess was allowed to play out. 

The immediate cost was the surrendering of his world title. Long term though? There could still be a price to be paid.

Tszyu's response to a minor head clash in Florida showed just how scarred he is by losing his title in the blood-bath that was the T-Mobile Arena.

It wasn't the only reason that he lost.

Murtazaliev was perfect, edging a close first round before putting his foot down in the second.

Ominously, in the build-up to this fight, Murtazaliev said, "what I like about [Tszyu] is I don't need to chase him".

Not only did he not need to chase him, he didn't even need to look for the punches that eventually felled his Australian rival.

Tszyu was upright and, as is his custom. slowly marched down his opponent from the centre of the ring.

But where other fighters have been unable to handle this relentless psychological pressure, Murtazaliev simply landed shot after shot after shot — all three of his knockdowns came via the same overhand right. 

Defence has been Tszyu's weakness ever since stepping up to take on world-ranked fighters.

Ever since Terrell Gausha became the first man to drop Tszyu with a flash knockdown, Tszyu has worn punches with a recklessness that, until now, never seemed to hurt him.

However, it's that fundamental lack of head movement, an unwillingness to move laterally, an offensive mindset that leaves no room for the subtlety of movement that distinguishes the very good from the great.

If the art of boxing dictates that the aim is to hit and not be hit, Tszyu has only taken the first half of the class to heart.

But if it is to be back to school for Tszyu, there can be no finer location than back home in the confines of Australia.

A homecoming without the prizes that count might not have been in Tszyu's mind when he embarked on his American tour.

But the script to this particular play has changed and Tszyu is in danger of being written out of it, the stages destined to get progressively smaller compared to those dreamy Vegas paydays.

Very few fighters go from being beaten in their first world title defence to getting another shot straight away — but that is what Tszyu attempted.

His bravery in that regard is admirable.

But discretion is the better part of valour for a reason. Heading home to lick his wounds to take a beatable opponent and get back to winning ways seems a prudent choice.

There are options domestically too, but Tszyu would do well not to leap straight into bed with noisy rival Michael Zerafa, who has also came up short when he took on the world.

Tszyu's next chapter needs to end with his arm being raised, a clean fight against whom Tszyu can show his boxing skills, not his heart.

The path back to a world title is long, requiring time to earn enough wins to push his case.

But the greater battle for Tszyu might well be a personal one.