Bloodlust: Nikita Tszyu is still raw but his fondness for violence has made him must-see TV

An updated version of this article will be featured in the next issue of The Ring.

Like a horror film, many watched March’s gruesome unified world title fight between Tim Tszyu and Sebastian Fundora through their fingers.

Conversely, Tim’s younger brother Nikita sat ringside through 12 bloody rounds, wide-eyed and spattered in envy.

It wasn’t the occasion, the titles or the purses that so enchanted the fellow professional boxer – rather the savage cut, the busted nose and the resultant red mess that stained the Las Vegas ring to the point that it would have been fitting to replace the ropes with crime scene tape.

“Seeing all the blood, it was quite arousing for me,” said Nikita.

“I’m attracted to that type of gruesomeness. I was jealous! At the end of the fight, he (Tim) cut his glove and he licked it and I was like, ‘Fuck yeah, thank you.’”

You see, Nikita Tszyu is a bit different.

Two and a half years ago, at the press conference to announce his debut fight, the younger Tszyu offered a quote that unintentionally spawned a ring moniker.

“Some people used to describe my brother more as a surgeon and they’d describe me as a butcher. We do the same type of job, but we do things in a different way. I’m a little more messy in that sense,” said Nikita.

At 26, “The Butcher” is three years Tim’s junior and too young to remember much from the time when their father, Kostya, was the undisputed king of the junior welterweight division and one of boxing’s most compelling figures.

The Tszyu brothers have described their upbringing as being driven by “army sergeant” Kostya’s military parenting style – all discipline, punctuality and respect.

“I remember coming back home after I came second in cross country,” recalls Tim. “After that, dad would be banging on the door at 5:15 a.m. every morning for runs, and I came first every year from then on.

“You couldn’t be a bludger in this family – that’s for sure!” 

But when the boys were alone, sparks and punches would fly.

“My childhood was constant bloody noses,” admits Nikita, whose grandfather Boris has now banned him from sparring his brother.

“I was a bit of a loner as a kid. I was always doing my own thing. I used to collect redback spiders in my backyard and put them in boxes and suffocate them. I feel sorry for my mum. She was the one who used to deal with it all. They took me to a psychologist when I was younger and they said, ‘There’s nothing really wrong with him, he just needs attention.’”

Despite his questionable hobbies, Nikita was a national standout as an amateur boxer in Sydney and, according to many, the more naturally gifted of the brothers. He had wings to spread, however, and so he flew away from boxing to pursue a career in architecture.

It lasted seven years, but ultimately Tszyu hands are meant to make fists, not drawings, and watching the rise of his brother from afar only fueled Nikita’s inevitable return to the ring.

While Tim debuted in relative obscurity and didn’t headline a major televised show until his thirteenth professional fight, his role in returning the Tszyu name to mainstream prominence in Australia meant Nikita was cast in a lead role from the very beginning.

In March of 2022, “The Butcher” stopped Aaron Stahl in the second round of a scrappy but violent debut in Brisbane, and there was national interest immediately. 

Of course the surname Tszyu and resultant hype helped greatly, but so did the attitude, recklessness and punching power. Inside and outside the ring, Nikita Tszyu is must-see TV.

Nikita is a southpaw, and while he doesn’t share Tim’s uncanny facial similarities to Kostya, there is a striking resemblance in the sincerity of his punches. The blows look and sound heavy and the reaction from opponents is dramatic.

Further, Nikita’s fighting style is highly entertaining – not so much “hit and don’t get hit” as “get hit and hit back harder.” 

“I heard (Gennadiy) Golovkin say a quote. He said sometimes he lets people hit him just so he gives others hope. Not calling myself Golovkin, but I wanted to say that quote,” said Nikita.

“When I watch a fight, I hate when it’s one-sided. Even if I like the guy I’m watching, I want them to get hurt. This is the business of entertainment and the main character has to go through adversity.”

Tim articulates the contrast in the brothers’ styles, inside and outside the boxing ring.

“In life, I will think before I do. Nikita does, then thinks,” said Tim. “Same thing in the ring. But most of the time when he does it, it’s fireworks.

“Expect the unexpected from this kid.”

The first nine fights of Nikita’s paid career have been compelling, and while he remains undefeated, there has been ample adversity. He was rocked badly in the final round of an early win over Ben Horn, had to climb off the canvas in the opening round before stopping Dylan Biggs, and he took big shots in brutal wins over Jack Brubaker and Danilo Creati.

“I cop the shots, but I’m still a rookie. I’m learning on the go. Two-and-a-half years back in the sport! I’m at, like, my teenager phase at the moment. I haven’t fully matured – I know a bit of the strength of my body – but I’m still a little bit reckless,” said Nikita.

“The Ben Horn one – why was I trying to knock him out in the last 30 seconds when I’d been winning the entire fight? That’s a rookie error by me. Brubaker – I got headbutted! I did get hit by a nice clean shot, too, but I recovered straight after. And the Creati one – yes he hit me with a shot, but I felt fine – I was just trying to clinch with him, but he was a slippery dude and it looked like I was all over the place.”

It’s the recklessness that simultaneously gets crowds engaged, provides ammunition for critics and scares a spectating brother.

“I didn‘t understand what I was in for. But I understood when I was watching Nikita’s first fight. Man, this is nerve-racking! Stressful. It’s very hard,” said the older Tszyu brother.

“The first couple of fights, I was out of control. I sat down and thought, ‘You know what, I really need to work on this!’,” Tim added.

Father Kostya has yet to attend any of Nikita’s professional fights. And while they communicate regularly, the 26-year-old hasn’t seen his dad in person in five years. 

After his final professional fight in 2005, Kostya increased his business interests in Moscow and began spending more time there. Then, in 2008, the family – then-wife Natasha and children Tim, Nikita and Anastasia – joined Kostya in relocating to Russia. However, the homesick Tszyus never settled in and were back in Sydney within a year.

In 2012, Kostya permanently returned to Moscow, where he now lives with second wife Tatiana and the couple’s two young children, and is “happy” and “softer,” according to Tim.

The boys appear content with their legendary father’s absence and describe the current relationship like a long-distance friendship; Kostya watches every fight and called Nikita after his most recent bout with advice to stop trying to knock out opponents with every punch.

Nikita remains a quirky character, with colorful turns of phrase and an intriguing personal philosophy. He remains something of a “loner” who spends much of his time in nature with his three dogs – Lucifer, Hunter and Carlos. But as the dark prince of Australian boxing’s first family, Nikita has had to deal with grumblings around the relative ease of his boxing ascent. He admits he has been privileged but explains the limitations of that advantage well.

“What can I do about it? There’s nothing I can do about the privilege I grew up with. I’m not going to deny it, because it’s obviously true, but boxing is one of those sports where privilege can only take you so far – you’ve still got to get in there and fight,” said Nikita.

“I still have had all these fights and I did win them. It got me somewhere, but I had to take control myself.”

Nikita’s tenth professional bout will be a defense of his Australian junior middleweight title against fellow Sydneysider Koen Mazoudier on August 28.

Mazoudier has a formidable edge of his own, having come through the amateur system with the Tszyu brothers and seeing Nikita’s rapid rise from the front row. His own life has at times become wildly turbulent.

From Blacktown in Sydney’s gritty western suburbs, Mazoudier has struggled with addiction and only four years ago was arrested and sent to a mental health facility.

“I had a manic episode and pretty much sent myself schizophrenic – I was living things that didn’t happen,” explained Mazoudier. “At that point, my beautiful partner, Breanna, called the ambulance, as she was worried about my health. They just mentioned, ‘Is there anything else we should know before we go over there?’ She said, ‘He’s a professional boxer,’ innocently, so now the police are coming instead of the ambulance. 

“I was put into a mental health facility for violently mentally ill people – I’ve never been violent outside of boxing. It was pretty much jail for a mentally ill person.”

Nowadays, Mazoudier appears every bit the contented husband to Breanna and well-adjusted father to their two children, with another on the way, while he uses his own journey in life and in boxing to try to help others experiencing mental health troubles.

“There’s things I’ve had to jump and do that he (Nikita) doesn’t even know exist. To me, that’s an advantage for me. When we get to those depths and into that dark, dark pit, I’m going to be thinking about all these things that I’ve had to accomplish and get through that he hasn’t even had to look at,” said Mazoudier.

With all of that on the table, and with these two particular fighters preparing to feast, it is of no surprise that the dinner conversation has turned ghastly.

“I’m happy to break bones, rupture spleens and fucking rip heads off – whatever I’ve got to do in there,” said Mazoudier. “I’m preparing for war, and I’m going to take that Australian title home. I’ve got kids at home, so I’m going to feed on him first, then I’m going to feed my family.”

“We’re both willing to die in the ring,” responded Nikita. “It’s a recipe for something brutal – for something with a parental advisory sticker on it.

“It’s kind of like I’m fighting myself.”

Ben Damon is a noted journalist, commentator and TV presenter known as the “Voice of Australian Boxing.” He will call Tszyu vs. Mazoudier on Wednesday night Australian time.

Follow Damon on X and Instagram.

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