When they nicknamed David Reid "The American Dream," for once they didn't seem to be exaggerating. A product of the same rough-and-tumble Philadelphia streets that produced Joe Frazier and, more recently, world middleweight champion Bernard Hopkins, Reid had hoisted himself up by his bootstraps to win the gold medal at the 1996 Atlanta Games - the only American winner that year and, for that matter, since.

He was a millionaire before his first professional fight, and a world champion after his 12th, and if promoter Mat Tinley of America Presents appeared at times to be rushing Reid's career it was only because he was looking to get a return on his investment: Reid, who was plagued by what was described as a "droopy left eyelid," underwent three separate and very expensive surgeries meant to correct the condition. None did. The eye problem, which made Reid susceptible to right-hand punches he never saw coming, would continue to plague him throughout his career.

It is probably also fair to say that the enthusiasm with which Tinley backed Reid's quest also helped produce the rupture between the Denver-based promoter and the gold medallist he had signed from the previous Olympics, Wayne McCullough.

For three years McCullough had been Tinley's only fighter, and the Belfast boxer felt, sometimes with justification, that he was getting the short shrift from America Presents once Tinley acquired a newer and more expensive toy.

For his part, Reid appeared to be loyal to a fault. Rejecting the overtures of a multitude of more celebrated trainers, he retained his lifelong amateur trainer, Al Mitchell, in part, one suspects, because he had been responsible for the demise of Mitchell's marriage.

Apparently Reid, along with a number of Mitchell's other young charges from his Philadelphia gym, often sought solace at the trainer's home, which had become a refuge from the streets, a practice which continued even after his marriage. His new wife objected to having young boxers around her kitchen table at all hours of the day and night, and ultimately laid down the law.

"It's either them or me," she told Mitchell. By way of reply, the trainer threw a protective arm around Reid, and the couple soon divorced.

Reid had scored a spectacular knockout of Cuba's Alfredo Duvergel to win the Olympic championship in Atlanta, and less than three years later, after a minimum of seasoning, he defeated Frenchman Laurent Bouduani to capture the World Boxing Association's light middleweight title.

After three successful defences against nondescript opposition, Reid was matched early last year against Felix Trinidad, the then unbeaten welterweight champion. Reid started fast and stumbled to the finish. Ahead on all scorecards after six rounds, he was floored four times over the second half of the bout, losing his first professional fight and his title in the process.

In his first comeback fight he was life-and-death with journeyman Kirino Garcia. Fortunate to escape with a win, he struggled mightily against a trio of 2001 opponents. Along the way the increasingly disillusioned boxer sent Al Mitchell packing, replacing his old mentor with untested trainer Fred Jenkins.

The word was out that the Trinidad fight had taken its toll on Reid, and by now everyone in boxing was eyeing The American Dream.

Several months ago Irish manager Brian Peters phoned from Dublin, hoping to match Reid against his All-Ireland champion Jim Rock, and moments after Hopkins stopped Trinidad to win the undisputed 160-pound title two months ago, his adviser Lou DiBella talked openly of Hopkins making his first defence against Reid, a multi-million dollar, all-Philadelphia affair in the two fighters' hometown.

With that Last Hurrah still on the drawing board, Reid took a tune-up fight last Sunday night. The bout, televised by ESPN2, was conducted at an obscure venue in Indiana; the opponent was the equally obscure Sam Hill, a St Louis police officer who had accumulated a 13-2-1 record against mostly local opposition.

The night before the bout Reid had an argument with Jenkins, who walked out. Aaron Pryor, the one-time light welterweight champion from nearby Cincinnati, who had another fighter on the card, agreed to work the corner as a last-minute replacement.

More ominously, once Reid removed his robe it became apparent that he hadn't missed many meals getting ready for his encounter with Officer Hill, but it wasn't his conditioning so much as his old bΩte noire - his vulnerability to the right hand - that proved his undoing on Sunday night.

Rocked by a right in the second round, Reid went down from another in the fifth. Although he was able to regain his footing, much of the fight appeared to have been taken out of him. In the ninth Hill caught him again, and as Reid struggled to his feet, Hall of Famer Pryor - his trainer of several hours - shouted to referee Ken Spivey to halt the fight, which he did.

The sad ending may well have ended Reid's boxing career at the ripe old age of 28. "I think it's safe to say David Reid is off Bernard's radar screen now and forever," said Hopkins' man DiBella.

"In my opinion, David should never fight again. I've never seen a quicker, more pronounced downward trajectory of a major prospect at such a young age. Hall is a full-time cop and a part-time fighter. That he could do what he did to an Olympic gold medallist and former world champion is almost incomprehensible."

Reid promised that he would return to fight another day, but not even his promoters sounded very encouraged about that.

"David is like family to us," said America Presents vice president Fred Sternberg after watching the meltdown from a ringside vantage point.

"America Presents never will allow him to become an 'opponent'."