ATHENS, Greece – On August 19 Tim Morehouse and the three other members of the U.S. men’s saber fencing team put on their Kevlar suits and strutted into the arena. Their arrival was announced in three languages, and the crowd went bananas. The match was against Russia and the outcome would determine whether the Americans won the bronze medal or placed a disappointing fourth. It was time for the chaps to get to dueling.

Morehouse, however, took a seat and watched. He is the alternate whose job is to be suited up and at the ready in case disaster strikes. Last Thursday it didn’t, at least not in the way the American fencer would have liked.

The U.S. team fell short against Russia, losing 45-44, but the real heartbreaker was the previous match, a semifinal against France. The Americans lost 45-44, but contend that Keeth Smart, and not his French opponent, struck the last hit. The Spanish referee thought differently. He ruled for France and that, ladies and gentlemen, was the end of that.

“USA fencing still doesn’t have political clout to get a referee pulled,” said Morehouse, an Upper West Side resident with the strapping build of a basketball player. “There’s not much you can do.”

Morehouse regularly fences at worldwide competitions throughout the year, but Olympic rules restrict alternates from coming in more than once, so using up that one switch when a fencer isn’t injured wouldn’t be prudent. Morehouse, 26, seems to find comfort in the shade, viewing the Olympic debacle as the beginning rather than the end.

“It was an honor just to be here and walk out with them,” he said.

Morehouse added that the team came here expecting to medal, and much as they’re trying to enjoy themselves on the dance floors of Athens, they still feel a little deflated. He said they’re trying hard not to lose sight of the fact that by winning the World Cup this year and by placing fourth here they’ve done better than any American team in years past.

But fourth is awfully close to come with no cigar, no? “It’s much harder to come closer and not get there,” he said. “It definitely hurt when we missed it. There were a lot of what ifs.”

Before arriving here, Morehouse and his teammates went through media coaching, where they were instructed to present a good image. So how would his media adviser want him to speak of his nights partying at nightclubs near the beach? “I was out with my teammates, enjoying the, uh, ambiance of Athens,” he said with a playful giggle.

He spends his few daylight hours here working out and eating healthy grub (teammates who went to the 2000 Sydney Olympics put on some weight, and he’s trying to avoid doing the same). “I’ve been kind of a vampire here,” said Morehouse. “But I haven’t really had a vacation since high school.”

Morehouse grew up in the Riverdale section of the Bronx, and attended Riverdale School. He dabbled in fencing throughout high school, but when he arrived at Brandeis College for his freshman year he devoted his extracurricular energies to hosting “Alphabet Soup,” a 5 a.m. children’s radio program.

The allure of fencing won out during his sophomore year, and he tossed out the Raffi tapes. After graduating Brandeis in 2000, he spent his first three post-collegiate years participating in the Teach for America Program at I.S. 90 in Washington Heights. When he talks of his years at the inner-city school, he’s at his most charismatic and serious.

Morehouse used to have the numbers of all his students’ parents in his cell phone. If a student was truly struggling he’d visit the parents at their home. He kept a journal during his first year there, jotting down passages on everything from stopping hallway fights to watching principal upon principal parachute in and try to fix the school. He’s already started editing his journal and he’s thinking of submitting it to publishers.

This past year he’s been focusing on training, and has been teaching fencing part-time at Riverdale. Morehouse says he’s still trying to promote fencing as a sport, especially among the students at Riverdale. “My students tell their friends to avoid me,” he adds.

When he gets back to New York on August 30, he says he’ll take some time to figure things out. Training costs him about $25,000 a year, and he needs to come up with a way to swing it.

He must also figure out what sort of job would give him the time to train up to six hours every day and travel extensively with the U.S. fencing team – last year he visited 10 countries.

Down the road he’d like to be a high school history teacher-or even start up a school and be principal. “I’ve seen really good schools with strong principals that get a lot done. I’m motivated to try to do that.”

As for fencing, if Morehouse manages to slide up one notch in the U.S. men’s rankings by 2008, he’ll be no. 3 in the country and will be upgraded from his alternate position. Four years is plenty of time to become an even better fencer, but Morehouse remains cautious. Ask if he’ll make the Olympics not as an alternative, and a gentlemanly “I hope so” is all you’ll get.