If there was a snapshot that captures the agony of the losing boxer, Andy Ruiz Jr provided it in the early hours of Sunday.
If you were side on to the fighters you would have seen it, just for a split second. As the ring announcer narrated the judges' scorecards which, by a knife-edge margin, awarded the fight to the blue corner, Ruiz's head rocked back in a way that portrayed myriad emotions, none of them positive.
Anger, frustration, sadness but above all hurt. Is there anything quite as piteous as a defeated boxer?
Andre Agassi once said that only boxers can understand the loneliness and solitary life of a tennis player, but even the introspective Agassi can never have felt the emptiness of defeat like a boxer.
A tennis player can pack up his - or her - kitbag and move on to the next tournament, week after week after week.
The boxer cannot. He must wait.
He must wait until the flesh on his face that has been tenderised by pounding fists heals. He must wait until the stitches that are inserted into cuts knit the skin again. He must wait until his brain function improves to the point where acts as simple as tying up one's laces become automatic again. He must wait until neurotransmitters like dopamine and serotonin fool the mind into thinking it wasn't so bad, that pummelling you took a few weeks ago.
He must wait to see if a promoter sees any further value in him, or whether he's now, quite literally, damaged goods.
There is no camaraderie in defeat for a boxer. There are no teammates to deflect blame. There are trainers, promoters, hangers-on, but all of them can only guess at your physical and mental pain, None of them got punched in the face for 12 rounds. None of them will be pissing blood for the next couple of days.
Some, like Ruiz, have the crutch of a close-knit family. Others don't even have that. Many boxers have noted that they have a lot more friends when they're winning.
Ruiz fought like a champion but ultimately finished a couple of points away from being crowned one.
The fight game is a tough one. Ruiz was tough, so tough, gracious, relentless, skilful and, in many eyes, worthy.
But ultimately he was a loser.
And loss was the story that Ruiz's puffy and welt-blown face told us in that split-second.