Leon Spinks crossed a personal Rubicon Wednesday night when he out-pummeled Muhammed Ali for the heavyweight title of the world. While inheriting the by now somewhat tarnished crown of the champ, the 23-year-old recent Olympian also took on the responsibility of defending his title from a passel of potential challengers.

During his amateur days, Spinks was much ballyhooed as "the Wild Bull of Camp LeJeune," where he was stationed when he won the All-Marine Corps light heavyweight championship in 1975. Fighting on the card that night was a flyweight by the name of Ronnie DiNicola, one of Spinks's teammates on the Camp LeJeune boxing team. DiNicola won the Marine Corps championship in his own weightclass, outpointing a certain Joe Rodriguez.

Spinks went on to display his fireworks at the Las Vegas Hilton the other night. DiNicola received his discharge, was accepted to Harvard, and now the Lowell House junior only fights an occasional bout at suburban clubs.

In June 1975 DiNicola found himself in the incongruous scenario of participating in a badminton tournament in the Camp LeJeune arena where the boxing team usually fought. Spinks happened to walk in just after having returned from boxing in the Pan-American games. That meeting between Spinks in his Everlast trunks and DiNicola in his badminton whites proved to be their last to date. Of course, DiNicola did send his old teammate a telegram right before the bout wishing him luck.

DiNicola views "Spinko's" triumph as a little bit of a victory for himself as well. For ten months they trained together, roomed next door to each other, and fought in all the same tournaments--the North Carolina Golden Gloves, the Marine championships, the inner-service championships, the AAU, the Nationals.

Spinks's reputation for lax training habits dates back to his amateur days and indeed on Wednesday morning he brunched on scrambled eggs and beer. "He was the big daddy of the team and everybody had a lot of respect for him." recalls DiNicola. "He was a crazy type of guy. I remember him getting up at 2:30 in the morning and doing his roadwork. He did have erratic training habits but he was generally in shape when fights came around."

"He was definitely wired last night. He was definitely together," said a jubilant DiNicola, who was especially impressed by Spinks's stamina. "Even at the end of the fight Spinks could still break Ali's rhythm and put him on the ropes when he wanted. Hitting Ali against the ropes usually tires out other guys like Ron Lyle and George Foreman. But Spinks pounded the heavy bag for nine rounds in training--and that's hard to do. It seems like Ali almost named his successor last night."

Much of the credit for Spinks's mastery of the sweet science should go to Art Redden. The trainer of the LeJeune team, he lavished attention on his prize pugilist. Redden, who is a sergeant in the artillery, only began to box when he was 26, but still qualified for the 1968 U.S. Olympic team. "He just oozed self-accomplishment," DiNicola remembers. "He was kind of a tree-stump philosopher too. He said you can't just learn boxing, you have to live it."

Most of those Camp LeJeune boxers who worked under Redden took his words to heart even if they didn't go on to win championships. Ron DiNicola was still living boxing Wednesday night even if he wasn't in the ring himself. DiNicola said, "I think all the people who worked and sweated and bled with Leon fought for a little piece of the championship last night. Everyone in our small circle had the same aspirations but he was the only one who could achieve them. He carried the banner for all of us."