On, Brave Old Army Team

"I feel great," Fracker said from a dressing-room bench, squinting as Herb Kroeten tried to hang a butterfly on a deep new gash. The cut kept pulling open, gushing, washing away the flimsy bandage. "But not as good as I felt before the decision."

"But you won," Kroeten reminded.

"Yes..." Fracker said cautiously. "But sometimes...I don't want this to come out wrong...." Fracker unlaced his shoes, buying a moment of thought. "After a fight goes the distance, there's that time between the final bell and the announcement. It's only a minute or two, actually, but it's light-years for a fighter. It's like you're traveling through space, and for me it's a natural high. Then, after they announce the winner, there's a crash. Even when I win, it's a bring-down. Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I won. I consider this the greatest fight of my life. It's just that, well...it's a shame to spoil a beautiful fight with a decision."

Herb Kroeten sent for a ring doctor who poked Fracker's cut open and squeezed it shut. "I don't think that'll need any stitches," he said. "But no sparring for a week."

The Golden Gloves finals drew the largest paid crowd in Madison Square Garden history (20,228). At ringside, along with 5'2" Mayor Abe Beame ("sitting on a phone book," wrote one reporter), were two generals and regiments of Army brass. Hundreds of cadets filled out a section in the mezzanine. The Eddie Davis-Fracker fight was widely considered responsible for the sellout. It was a classic matchup. The champ and heavy favorite: black, flamboyant, outspoken, up from the streets. The challenger and underdog: white, soft-spoken, methodical and, of all things, a cadet. For the first time in nearly half a century of Golden Gloves competition, the traditional order of bouts flyweight to heavyweight, was scrapped. The heavies were stuck in the middle of the program and Davis-Fracker became the main event.

After the weigh-in, Fracker chatted softly with visitors. Yes, he was annoyed at Davis' prediction of a first-round knockout. No, the touch of flu he had the week before did not upset his training. Davis, meanwhile, swaggered around in the lucky wool cap he wears before each fight and threatened to "put a hurt on the face" of the man who defeated his brother, who shattered the family dream of two Davises reigning as co-champions ( Golden Gloves rules forbid brothers from fighting one another). Glenn Pringle, Al's first trainer, flew in from Michigan Center with the boxer's father.

The first round was a nightmare for Fracker. After only one jab, he moved inside. Eddie Davis peeled back half a step and unloaded a looping left hook followed by an exploding right to the chin. For the next three minutes Fracker moved around the ring as if mesmerized, absorbing a savage fusillade of left hooks and straight rights. It was as if he had gotten his face caught in a paddle wheel. But he would not go down.

Astonishingly, the second round was close. For one right-crossing moment, Fracker may have moved slightly ahead, but three more lightning rights to the chin by Davis settled the affair. If the second round was a comeback, the third was a little miracle. Fracker won it going away. But Davis, way ahead on points, clinched, covered up, held on to win a split, but clearly earned, decision. After the announcement, the winner and still champion took a victory leap, landing in a gaudy full split on the canvas.

In Dressing Room B, both fighters were informed that they had been invited to the AAU National Championships in Knoxville. And there is a good chance they will meet there next week. But that March night after the Gloves final Davis, a store detective, was talking about turning pro. He said in the future if he was going to fight anyone as tough as Fracker, he wanted to get paid for it.

A week after the Gloves Al Fracker was back to predawn roadwork, missing both reveille formation and breakfast, a mixed blessing. Asked how the loss to Davis had been accepted at the Point, he said, "Everyone was so nice to me. I was surprised."