For the past 11 weeks they have been on constant call, counted on to provide opposition and motivation to the anointed dozen. They have fought side by side with the Olympians in several international matches. They have lifted their country past the Russians and the Germans. They have waved the red, white and blue.

There have been some wonderful moments.

But there have also been instances of exclusion, of being ignored or taken for granted. And this, says Davarryl Williamson, doesn't seem fair.

``A lot of times,'' says Williamson, a 27-year-old heavyweight who serves as the alternate to Nate Jones, ``we're treated like third-class citizens.''

Sometimes the slights are subtle. The autograph-seeker's pen pulled back upon hearing the phrase ``just an alternate.'' The muted cheers on the Fourth of July as a crowd meets three extra boxers, tacked on to the end of introductions.

Sometimes the slights are blatant, hurtful. The meetings in which the Olympic team huddles while the alternates, sparring partners to the stars, are asked to wait elsewhere. The goody bags from USA Boxing in which the Olympians' haul grossly outshines the alternates'.

``They're passing stuff across us, right there in our face,'' Williamson says. ``It's like, `Excuse me, can you pass that to so-and-so?' They bring 12 of everything. We get a cupholder, (the Olympians) get a water jug, T-shirt, key chain and a Frisbee. And they get a cupholder too. They get five good things, we get one.''

Williamson shakes his head. He doesn't mean to be petty, but he thought it would be different, thought there would be enough respect to go around. That's why he put himself through this grueling training camp. That's why he put his pursuit of a political science master's degree on hold and followed coach Al Mitchell and crew around the country - to Oregon, Michigan, Miami, Mississippi, Orlando and Augusta.

Zabdiel Judah and Fareed Samad have followed the same path. They join Williamson as the only three alternates to make it through all 11 weeks. (Jacob Hudson, Frank Durst and Darryl Morgan of the Augusta Boxing Club have been filling in as sparring partners.) Judah and Samad share Williamson's disappointment.

``They treat us like hostages,'' says Samad, an Army boxer stationed at Fort Bragg in Fayetteville, N.C. ``We could be treated a whole lot better. Everybody uses somebody for something. They're using us for training and pushing other guys. We're using them for different things. For me, it's staying sharp and getting ready to go on to my pro career.''

Samad, a welterweight, replaced Augusta's Brandon Mitchem as an alternate when Mitchem turned pro in May. Judah, a light welterweight, was runner-up to David Diaz at the Olympic Box-offs in April. He, too, plans to turn professional as soon as possible.

As the pre-Olympic camp winds down, the alternates - who never spar with the Olympian in their weight class - have come face to face with reality. Come Thursday afternoon, they will be dismissed, sent their separate ways. No significant injuries will catapult them into a spot on the Olympic team. In fact, the alternates won't even be in Atlanta to cheer on their teammates.

This, says Williamson, hurts most of all.

``We should be there,'' says Williamson, a former college quarterback at Wayne State University in Detroit. ``That doesn't seem right at all. If USA Boxing is going to bring us all up here, I know they have some sort of funds in the budget to shoot the three of us to Atlanta. I know if they brought us this far, we should be able to watch the Games or somehow finagle our way into the Olympic Village.

``That would be something I would cherish for the rest of my life. We all would like to be there.''

Mitchell, the Olympic coach, says the alternates were never misled. He says they were always aware that their stint would end before the Olympics.

``They knew it wasn't the plan (to take them),'' says Mitchell, citing lack of funds and housing as the primary reasons the alternates won't be in Atlanta. ``I just brought a couple of them (to Augusta) because I needed the help. It was good motivation for the guys. Maybe the next time we have the Olympics in the States we can fix it up so that the alternates can be there.''

This exclusion didn't sit well with most members of the Olympic team. They say they appreciate the alternates' efforts and the extra push that helped them improve in recent months.

``I think they should be there,'' says welterweight Fernando Vargas. ``They're alternates and they've been through the whole camp. I think that's depriving them not to let them go to Atlanta and help us with cheers.''

Super heavyweight Lawrence Clay-Bey doesn't even like to use the term ``alternates.''

``These are just other boxers who unfortunately were not able to be in the position that we're in now,'' Clay-Bey says after a recent workout at the Augusta Boxing Club. ``These guys stuck it out. They've definitely given more of themselves and their lives to this sport than we have because we have something to look forward to. They really don't.''

This, Clay-Bey says, is hard to accept. He has raised the issue with USA Boxing officials but his argument went nowhere.

``I could understand it if the Olympics were being hosted in another country,'' Clay-Bey says. ``Then I would say, OK, financially it probably can't happen. But to be here on our own turf, right here in the USA, I think it would be a boost for the team to have the alternates right there at ringside, rooting us on. After all, these are the guys that took us to this level and got us where we are now.''