Who was once a humble, God-fearing, athletically-electrifying mental health advocate, is now an unconstrained, social-media obsessed, attention-seeking, and, perhaps, rule-fiddling conspiracy theorist slowly losing his fanbase.

A “freewheeling enigma.”

That’s how Ryan Garcia was described by the DAZN broadcast team ahead of the boxer’s superfight against pound-for-pound phenom Devin Haney on April 20.

Haney was the clear favorite – and, I mean, a -800 favorite – but Garcia knocked him down three times en route to a majority-decision victory.

And once ring announcer Joe Martinez declared “King Ry” the winner in front of thousands holding their breaths inside of the Barclays Center in Brooklyn, the greatest boxing upset of the last decade was solidified.

A well-deserved victory tour was in store for the California kid, and who could blame him?

From flying down to Mar-a-Lago and meeting with former President Donald Trump, to performing his new rap song, “Blessed, Highly Favored,” at Colorado University, Garcia was on top of the boxing world.

No.

He was on top of the world itself, with 12.1 million Instagram followers.

Taking a page out of Tony Stark’s (Iron Man) book, Garcia could have described himself as a “charismatic, rich, 25-year-old sex symbol with an athletic skillset beloved by millions.”

But in an instant – like his patented left hook – disaster struck.

Millions around the world opened up their social media accounts to see Garcia test positive for the performance-enhancing drug, ostarine – an illegal substance in the sport of boxing; found positive the day before, and day of, the Haney fight.

Ryan Garcia: the cheater.

He denies it, as does his promoter, Oscar De La Hoya of Golden Boy Promotions, but do we believe them?

As for Garcia superfans – myself included – our hearts sank.

What the heck happened?

All this kid had to do was box, stay out of trouble, and promote himself on social media (in healthy fashion) like he’s been doing his entire life. He threw it all away, say boxing personalities across X, YouTube and other social platforms.

And, look. Garcia says it was a tainted supplement, but only he and his team know for sure. If he did this intentionally, I have no excuses for what he’s done – and certainly don’t enjoy it.

He also acts erratic on social media, goes after other fighters and their wives publicly, and, at times, can be a questionable role model for the kids who look up to him.

But…

Though our forgiveness will never erase his behavior, have we forgotten about second chances?

He’s a 25-year-old kid with millions of dollars, good looks, the ability to fight, millions of social media followers, anxiety, depression, and a ridiculously-stressful profession in which he gets into a square to fight someone as people watch.

That’s not easy.

Plus, are we going to ignore the fact that other fighters have tested positive for PEDs, but have gone on to have legendary, beloved careers?

People call Garcia evil, among other adjectives, and I don’t think that’s the right word. He didn’t kill anyone; he didn’t assault anyone; he didn’t beat anyone to a pulp outside of the ring.

He took some ostarine (God knows how many athletes take PEDs behind closed doors) and said a few stupid things on social media.

Going even further, Garcia has donated money to good causes, is beloved by all three of his children, has been vocal about his anxiety issues to those struggling, and shares his love for God every chance he gets.

He’s a good kid, going through a bad time.

Why are we so ignorant, to think we’ve been perfect every step of our lives?

In 20 years, when the “Life of Ryan Garcia” documentary comes out on Netflix, this will all just be a small, frustrating chapter in one heck of a story.

Ryan, get back up. We’re all rooting for you.