Stephen R. Sylvanie-USA TODAY Sp

How does someone go from being one of the most exciting prospects in mixed martial arts to a middling fighter who seems terrified to pull the trigger? Rory MacDonald completed said transformation at UFC 167 in his loss to Robbie Lawler.

When a fighter becomes gun-shy, it is usually interpreted as a sign of irreversible decline. It has happened to many boxers and mixed martial artists over the years for a variety of reasons.

Like a darts player suffering from dartitis, the fighter no longer seems capable of letting go. It can be a symptom of self-doubt, excessive caution in light of deteriorating punch resistance or some combination of the two.

Oscar De La Hoya contended with its effects late in his career, famously conceding that Freddie Roach’s assessment of him as “gun-shy” was on the money after his one-sided loss to Manny Pacquiao. He was 35 when he discovered he couldn’t pull the trigger.

Rory MacDonald is 24 years old.

Let’s be clear before going any further. MacDonald’s current in-cage issues are in no sense insurmountable.

Still in his early 20s, the Canadian has plenty of time to address whatever ails him and resume his ascent up the welterweight ladder.

With much of the focus rightly being placed on Robbie Lawler’s resurgence, MacDonald’s regression has seemingly flown under the radar.

If you are amongst the few souls who follow me on Twitter, you may have witnessed my growing frustration last night, as I realised a rare talent may be going to waste.

Recall, if you will, the aggressive pressure fighter who, at just 21, outclassed Carlos Condit for two rounds.

Think back to the competitor who rag-dolled Nate Diaz and destroyed Mike Pyle within a round.

During last night’s post-fight scrum, UFC president Dana White described MacDonald as a fighter who frequently inspires his opponents to engage him in a staring competition for 15 minutes.

Had White offered that description a year ago, it would have made about as much sense as saying that the secret to Dan Hardy’s success is his wrestling.

It’s a measure of just how far the young Canadian has fallen that the UFC president can make such a statement to a group of reporters while maintaining a straight face.

Where does the blame lie? I’m big on personal responsibility, but it’s inconceivable to me that MacDonald woke up one day and decided to compete with all the freedom of a man trapped in a straitjacket.

Members of the Tea Party could be heard complaining that MacDonald’s style is too conservative for their tastes.

Firas Zahabi is one of the most underappreciated coaches in the sport, so it’s hard for me to imagine he masterminded his student’s devolution.

Georges St-Pierre, the long-time welterweight champion, is MacDonald’s teammate at Tristar. Earlier in his career, he made a similar transformation to a much more safety-conscious style.

But in St-Pierre’s case, the change made sense. Having been knocked out by Matt Serra, one could understand the reasons underlying his decision to fight more conservatively.

Try as I might, there is nothing I can see in MacDonald’s past that would prompt such a change.

We saw a hint of what was to come when MacDonald, having battered BJ Penn from pillar to post at UFC on Fox 7, seemed hesitant to look for the finish.

It wasn’t until his UFC on Fox 8 bout with Jake Ellenberger that his attitudinal shift became apparent, with both men circling around the cage in a fight that made UFC 9’s Detroit Dance look like Diego Sanchez vs. Gilbert Melendez.

It’s unfortunate we didn’t get a chance to hear from MacDonald at the UFC 167 post-fight press conference. He may have been able to shed some light on what prompted him to adapt his style, or whether the change occurred organically.

One can only hope the loss to Lawler forces MacDonald to rediscover the style and attitude that earned him so many admirers.

Within a sporting context, few things are more tragic than wasted potential.

Follow @JimMacDonaldMMA