I never knew how much impact the word “was” could have on me.

From now on, that word will be used with the name Pete Taylor. The broadcasting legend is gone way too soon.

Just last fall, I met Pete personally for the first time, but our relationship began long before then.

He and I were together many Wednesday nights and Saturday afternoons ever since I started listening to Cyclone games as a 7-year-old, often clad in red ISU sweatpants with holes all over them.

Pete and I were connected by only a radio, but what a connection it was.

It’s often been said that you could switch on the Cyclone game and know in about five seconds if Iowa State was winning just by the tone of Pete’s voice.

It couldn’t be more true.

He took the losses hard, and he took a big win like a hungry man takes one of his donuts.

As ISU athletics director Bruce Van De Velde said Wednesday afternoon, Taylor was Cyclone athletics.

Pete gave me the opportunity to interview him and his Cyclone Radio Network partner Eric Heft in early September. It was just after the ISU football team came up one yard short in a furious comeback against Florida State.

But it wasn’t like an interview, it was like talking with an old friend.

During the interview, I asked him about the greatest ISU wins he’s ever seen. I felt a little jealous at the time because he’d seen all of it. At the same time, I’m the one who would turn off the national TV broadcast and its know-nothing sportscasters and tune into Pete.

He still had a glimmer in his eyes when he recalled a football victory over Nebraska in 1977. He spoke about it like it happened yesterday and you could almost feel his heart start to thump a little faster than usual. He recalled most of the players and every tiny tidbit about the coach at the time.

“Leave it to Pete. He would know just about everything Iowa State,” I thought.

In the middle of my questions, he wanted to know what I was interested in. Not for a second did he think he was anything special. He valued you just as much as he valued himself.

He didn’t have to, but afterward he asked me to join him in the booth during a football game. “Just come on up,” he said.

I never took him up on the offer. Now I really wish I had.

In my story the next day, I wrote that if I were given the opportunity to talk with Pete again or meet President Bush, I’d pick Pete every time.

I meant it.

It was a moment I’ll never forget, meeting the man that represented everything Iowa State. He was “Mr. Cyclone,” as some people called him.

Pete talked about his job like it wasn’t a job. He was an associate athletics director at Iowa State, but he told me he isn’t much for offices.

His true passion was radio and he considered himself lucky to be involved with it, he said.

I asked him how long he wanted to continue on the radio, calling the good, the bad and the ugly in ISU men’s basketball and football games.

“As long as we’re both healthy and enjoy it,” Pete said.

When you think about that statement, in a way it’s fitting that he passed away while still active with his passion — or as he put it, “the carrot in front of me to keep me going.”

You knew he’d always enjoy it. It was going to take a lot more than a stupid headache to keep him off the air. He never let go, which is the way I think he would have wanted it.

The four-time sportscaster of the year was one hell of a worker. He was an even better person.

From that time on, I’d say hello when I saw him, and he’d smile and stop to chat for a while. And that’s after a 15-minute interview.

He is irreplaceable and whoever attempts to fill his shoes better have big feet.