GlennDavis

*********** Take time this Thanksgiving weekend to say a prayer for Glenn Davis...

By Justin Rodriguez - Times Herald-Record, Middletown, New York

jrodriguez@th-record.com

Back then they called him Mr. Outside - running wide, finding open space, leaving dust at Michie Stadium - but he had the inside straight to the title of America's Hero.

Glenn Davis played football like he lived his life: strong, confident, fearless. He was John Wayne tough, Marlboro man rugged, the greatest sports hero of the greatest generation.

In 1946 they gave him the Heisman Trophy, awarded to the best college football player in the country. He gave Army undefeated seasons and a national championship. How long ago were those days?

So long ago that Glenn Davis was a hero when the word still meant something.

Almost 60 years later, Davis' body is broken. He is weak from advanced prostate cancer. Congestive heart failure landed him in a hospital bed earlier this week in Palm Springs, Calif.

"Nobody told me I'm going to die tomorrow," Davis, 79, says. "But I'd better get better or say, 'Hallelujah.' "

At West Point, they still refer to Davis as the best athlete the academy has ever seen.

He and Felix "Doc" Blanchard were the centerpiece of Army football's greatest era - 1944-46 - perhaps this country's proudest and most powerful time. In those three years the Black Knights went 27-0-1, winning three straight national championships.

In those days great athletes were given nicknames. Blanchard, a fullback, ran over defenders. They called him Mr. Inside.

Davis - Mr. Outside - would glide gracefully toward the sideline, turn upfield and he was gone. Nobody ever caught him.

Davis also played defensive back, averaging 58 minutes per game.

"Glenn was probably the fastest guy in football," says Blanchard, who won the Heisman Trophy in 1945, narrowly edging Davis. "He just ran all over the place."

Just about every kid in America during the mid-1940s idolized Glenn Davis. Kids like Pete Dawkins, who grew up outside Detroit.

Dawkins heard his parents and teachers gush about Davis. He listened to all the big kids on the block talk about the swift moves of Mr. Outside. Of course, Dawkins attended West Point.

Dawkins won the Heisman in 1958. That's when he met his idol and they've been close friends since.

Both were honored as part of the inaugural class of the Army Sports Hall of Fame at halftime of the Black Knights' game against Texas Christian University last month.

Army held a gala at the Waldorf Astoria in Manhattan the night before, but Davis was too weak to attend. He stayed back, resting at the Hotel Thayer with his wife, Yvonne, by his side.

The day of the ceremony, Davis leaned on Dawkins as the two legends made their way on to Earl Blaik Field.

Davis got a standing ovation from the crowd. He was touched and he managed a slow wave. Later, during a radio interview, he broke down and couldn't hold back his tears.

"Your eyes see what you feel," Dawkins says. "I recognized Glenn's illness. But I still saw him as this sleek, athletic figure, running through defenses and leading Army to victory."

Others saw a tired man and it was hard to see Davis in that condition.

"I was shocked," says Joe Steffy, who played with Davis in 1945-46. "He looked awful."

For Steffy, whose wife, Ann, died last May after a long battle with bone cancer, seeing his old teammate brought back painful memories. Ann was a Newburgh native. Steffy met her his senior year. They settled in Newburgh and he still talks to Davis almost every day.

"What I've seen with my wife, I hate to say it, but I don't think he's going to make it," Steffy says. "I hope to hell I'm wrong, but that's life at our age."

Davis was first diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1988.

He beat it. He thought. But in May, doctors told him the cancer was back. It has spread, ravaging his body.

Since May, he has spent more than a month in four different hospitals, different IVs running into his veins.

"It wears the hell out of you," Davis says. "The thing that bothers me the most is that I can't do the things I used to do."

Davis developed a tumor on his skull, requiring brain surgery. In July, he had a tumor removed from his bladder. He has a tumor on his liver, which has yet to be shrunk.

Ralph Davis, the legend's son, is 47. He lives in Van Nuys, Calif., and he says the family has been as supportive as it can be for his father.

"He has kind of defied the odds thus far," Ralph Davis says. "We've been keeping it under control the last six months. It's been difficult realizing it's starting to spin out of control."

Until his return to the hospital this week, Davis loved to sit out on the porch of his home, overlooking the sixth hole of the LaQuinta Country Club. The sun warmed his tired body.

All the time he was in bed, in a wheelchair, in the hospital, he remained the same gracious man his friends and teammates know. Yvonne Davis marvels at how sweet and polite her husband still is with her. Even now, he never forgets to say please, thank you and pardon me.

"I guess it's that West Point training," she says. "He's so humble, sweet and protective. He's wonderful. Glenn keeps fighting. It's like that Brave Old Army Team."

Despite his illness, Davis was still an avid Army football supporter. He kept track of the team every week. He corresponded with Army coach Bobby Ross - through letters and on the phone. They spoke just last week, before his return to the hospital.

Davis told Ross that if he had any prospects in California he would be glad to welcome them into his home, to talk football and West Point.

"To let them know what the place is about," Davis says. "I'd be thrilled to do anything."

But now, Davis lies in his hospital bed. He has fluid in his lungs and doctors still haven't determined the cause. It could be pneumonia or it could be worse: the cancer may have spread to his lungs.

And this is what Glenn Davis says about that:

"I'm not scared. I'm prepared. One way or another."

He is forever Glenn Davis, turning upfield, looking for open space.

Hallelujah.

Reprinted by permission.