Fight night reveals two sides to Tim Tszyu

The mild-mannered Tim Tszyu at his after-party in Newcastle was at odds with the killer who beat Dennis “The Hurricane” Hogan.

Tim Tszyu was ruthless during his fight against Dennis Hogan in Newcastle on Wednesday night Picture: Getty Images

It’s 1.12am on Thursday. Tim Tszyu has arrived at his own after-party. He stands at the hotel bar and considers his poison. Vodka, beer and wine are slugging it out for his attention.

He looks at the top shelf, the bottom shelf, the fridge. Three stitches above his left eye are pointing northeast.

A night of adrenaline and accomplishment deserves to be celebrated. Time to cut loose. Directly behind the mild-mannered prize-fighter, about 100 people are diving into the revelry. Even his 73-year-old grandfather, Boris, has very briefly detoured to the dance floor.

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His normally straight-laced trainer, Igor, is shaking a tail feather. Some bloke called Matty Johns is displaying quite the gregarious personality. You could give him a TV show.

“I’m not sure what to have,” Tszyu says. He can’t decide between two of the demon drinks on offer. Water, and Coke No Sugar. He goes went with the soft drink and orders a hamburger and chips from room service.

There goes the neighbourhood. He sits in quiet contentment among his entourage, chatting away with anyone and everyone who comes over to slap his back and jibber on.

He smokebombs it back to his room at 2.10am. To the suggestion he’s been the most sensible bloke in the room – by a fair margin, to be fair – he laughs and says, “There’s no need to be a maniac."

Tszyu has bashed Dennis “The Hurricane” Hogan on an electrifying night at Newcastle Entertainment Centre. The Irishman is nowhere to be seen; he’s in no fit state.

The difference between Tszyu’s powerhouse in-fight demeanour and the laid-back post-fight behaviour has a bit of a Superman/Clark Kent ring to it. You could have sworn you have witnessed two different people these past few hours.

One of them has been faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. The other is this quiet and somewhat boyish figure uninterested in thumping his own chest. Later on Thursday, in the hotel foyer, the Superman/Clark Kent comparison is put to him.

Tim Tszyu celebrates after his defeat of Hogan Picture: Getty Images

“Yeah, maybe,” he says. “I don’t know. As soon as get in the ring I get this killer instinct and I’ve just got to take someone out. Pain. I’ve just got to inflict pain. And then once I get out of the ring, I go back to normal. Get back to reality. ”

His manager, Glen Jennings, says: “Tim’s Tim. What you see is what you get. When he gets in the ring and hits the switch, god help ya. He gets back out and becomes mild-mannered Clark Kent.

“You know what I’m saying? Superman puts his outfit on to fight. But then his version of reality is not ours. Even his off switch – there’s no athlete I’ve ever come across, in all my years, that has a non-stop unbreakable dedication and focus on the one sport.

“He lives and breathes it. But there’s two Tim Tszyus. There’s that switched on machine in the ring then there’s the humble, good, terrific young bloke outside.”

The morning after demolishing Hogan, he’s already impatient to get his next fight lined up. He says his life is like a TV show, “And everyone’s always expecting the next episode. There’s always got to be that next episode. It doesn’t end. It just keeps going.

“I think that’s the problem. Every time I do something, the goal just keeps getting bigger and bigger. You’ve got to keep chasing … that’s what gets you up every morning.

“There’s no need to lose your head. Just stay humble. Let your work do the talking and enjoy the ride. It’s a fun ride and I’m only 26. I’m still young. There’s a lot I can do in the next ten years.”

He says of the difference in his pre-fight and post-fight emotions: “Before a fight it’s like a caged lion. You’re getting ready for the slaughter. Then it’s always a big relief once a fight is over … it’s a good satisfaction because you do it for the guys around you, as well.

“My team puts so much work and time into it and to see them and myself in a state where all our work is done, for this moment in time, and we can just sit back and relax, that’s part of what drives me.

“It was a great night. I hope everyone enjoyed themselves. The crowd was so insane. Not many people get to experience a thrill like that in their life, but the goal doesn’t change.

“This isn’t the end. That’s why it’s like a TV show. It just keeps on going. I haven’t achieved anything yet and I want to keep progressing. That’s the main thing. Progression.”

Tszyu is undecided about only one thing. A nickname. He wants to raise the dukes again in July against an international opponent, and at the top of his hit list is Russian Arif Magomedov, American Danny Garcia and Brit Liam Smith.

Nicknames are nearly a prerequisite to a professional boxing career, of course, and most are desperate attempts at alliteration or rhyme. There’s some good ones. Evander “The Real Deal” Holyfield. Thomas “Hit man” Hearns. “Marvellous” Marvin Hagler.

Some are terrible. Juan “The Hispanic Causin’ Panic” Laczano and Owen “What The Heck” Beck may have liked a rethink. The best, I think, neither rhyme nor alliterate. “Iron” Mike Tyson. “The Golden Boy” Oscar De La Hoya. “Smokin’” Joe Frazier. James “Lights Out” Toney. “The Greatest” Muhammad Ali. What suits Tszyu?

The Soul Taker has been a well-publicised suggestion. He’s iffy. What else? I’ve heard corny suggestions like Tim “The Boxing Kangaroo.” Funny ones like Tim “Stuff You” Tszyu. “The Truth” Tim Tszyu isn’t bad; he talks pretty straight.

“I’m 50-50, man,” he says. “I feel like I’m fine with Tim Tszyu.” Jennings says: “Everyone says, Timmy, you need to grow a rat’s tail like your dad! Timmy, we need to call you this! But nicknames don’t really fit when you’ve got someone who just take care of things in the ring. You don’t need the promotional side of a nickname.”

Tszyu’s promoters at No Limit Boxing are bracing to fork out up to $10 million if that’s what it costs to get a big name to Australia. The asking price will go up because of the demand to quarantine for a fortnight.

“The money’s huge and the expenses are huge,” Jennings says. “We’ve done three stadium shows, and the costs are massive. But we categorically now know that wherever we take this bloke, we can turn it into an extravaganza.

“Every fighter in Australia is now in our rear vision mirror. We’re going global, but when I say global, that doesn’t mean we’re going overseas.

“We’ll be seeing this week who’s prepared to come here, to do whatever they have to do in quarantine, to be able to fight Tim in front of a huge crowd. Think about that for a moment.

“These guys have been sitting on lounges or fighting in front of nobody since COVID came along. I would think coming to a safe haven like Australia – two weeks of quarantine is not going to be out of the question for them for a big payday.

“I’d say probably July for next fight. We’re in the driver’s seat. I think the next announcement will be an absolute cracker. The vision is now for a global stage.

“That’s his place. The world needs to see what he can do.”