You'd think there also shouldn't be any crying in boxing, that most macho of athletic endeavors. But the fight game offers a greater potential for tragedy than any sport, and there wasn't a dry eye in the joint that April night in 2002 when a tuxedoed Gerald McClellan was wheeled out to a standing ovation at the 77th annual Boxing Writers Association of America Awards Dinner in New York.

McClellan, the former WBC middleweight champion, had made the trip from his hometown of Freeport, Ill., with his sister, Lisa, to help photographer Teddy Blackburn celebrate Blackburn's receiving the Marvin Kohn Good Guy Award.

Blackburn had grown close to McClellan, who was rendered blind, brain-damaged and mostly deaf following his 10th-round stoppage by Nigel Benn on Feb. 25, 1995, in London.

In one of boxing's most touching moments, Blackburn accepted his award and then presented it to McClellan. The "G-Man," soaking up the muffled applause, beamed like a champion again.

If only that scene could have been frozen in time, with Gerald the toast of the town and symbol for whatever conscience boxing still claims to possess, it would have made for the perfect, upbeat ending. But the standing ovation ended and the dinner crowd drifted into the night. Gerald and Lisa returned to his two-bedroom house in Freeport. And the bills continued to be delivered with the relentlessness of Benn's punches.

The donations generated by McClellan's BWAA appearance provided Lisa and Sandra, his other caregiving sister, a bit of a financial cushion. But that money is gone, and the resolve of those who continue to devote their lives to the stricken ex-fighter is being tested as never before. Lisa, who alternates 12-hour shifts with Sandra, acknowledged thinking of placing Gerald in a nursing home.

"Something wouldn't let me do it," she said.

So Lisa and Sandra keep searching for some light at the end of that very long tunnel, while Blackburn, who has been equally tireless in his role of fund-raiser, continues to implore fight fans to remember the warrior that Gerald McClellan was, the warrior he still is.

Last Friday's 10th anniversary of the Benn-McClellan slugfest, which at once typified all that is beautiful and barbaric in boxing, is a reminder of the high price fighters sometimes pay to entertain us. But although Gerald McClellan's tale might not always be as uplifting as the night he and Blackburn hugged to the sound of cheers, neither is it as bleak as a bank statement's red-inked bottom line.

McClellan never will see again, and his short-term memory has blank spaces, like missing pieces from a jigsaw puzzle. But he no longer is confined to a wheelchair (yet needs assistance to move from room to room), and he seems to better understand that the love you give is likely to be the love you receive.

"The only thing that's different in his personality is that he's more emotional now," Lisa said. "Before, he showed very little emotion. Now he'll cry at the drop of a dime. You can tell him a sad story and he'll start crying."

In many ways, Gerald McClellan personalizes human compassion and our willingness to assist those less fortunate. Oh, sure, it makes us feel good to write a check that goes toward finding a cure for a dread disease, but sometimes the big picture is too vast for any individual to take in.

Richard Slone, a former Philadelphia resident and renowned artist, has joined in the effort to keep McClellan in our minds and our hearts. All supporters who pledge $50 or more will receive a limited-edition print of the man who once ruled the boxing world with his fists, and who only recently relearned how to brush his teeth. Judge for yourself which is the greater triumph of the spirit.

To contribute to the Gerald McClellan trust fund, send a check or money order, made payable to the Gerald McClellan Trust Fund, to: Gerald McClellan Trust, c/o Fifth Third Bank, P.O. Box 120, Freeport, IL 61032.

No beating Crowe

The Academy Award bonanza reaped by "Million Dollar Baby" should prep moviegoers for the release later this year of "Cinderella Man," the biography of former heavyweight champion James J. Braddock with Russell Crowe in the lead role.

Hall of Fame trainer Angelo Dundee touts Crowe's work in the action sequences as competent and believable.

"Let me tell ya, this Russell Crowe is a hard worker," said Ange, who taught some moves to the New Zealander. "He surprised me by being as athletic as he was. He has good balance, good movement, good reflexes. And he's a good righthand banger, just like Braddock was."