I once met a man who taught me about life. He taught me how to view the world from a different angle. “Don’t watch the ball, watch the game. Don’t pay attention to the score, look at the players.

He was different and that made him great. “Keep you eyes up or you might miss it, you won’t see nothin’ digging at the dirt with your toecap” are things he probably would have said. “Close your eyes when you dream, keep them open to have something to dream about.”

He was lucky, this gentleman. He witnessed more events and achievements than I dare dream possible in my lifetime. He saw the greats and he wrote about them.

He witnessed pugilists delivering rabbit punches, along with a braggart in a jungle rumble.

He saw ice queens master the difficulty of the Salchow and be humbled by the simplicity of a choctaw.

Horses sped by him down the homestretch while long shot bettors tossed their tickets in the pail with the other refuse. Great rounds of golf were as common to him as bad rounds when I play.

He wrote about everything in sports.

He loved and lived in a world where good and bad guys each get their day to shine, and then go back and do it again the next day. A place where underdogs get a chance and dominance is rewarded with a trophy.

Any sport that was worthy of print knew this man.

Downhill skiing – he was a mogul covering moguls. Soccer – a Pele bicycle back flip got his pen a coasting. Swimming and diving got him wet. Track and field was his chance to watch Steve Prefontaine run like no human being should be capable of running.

He wrote, and he wrote with passion, a trait that is rare these days.

He even had a column about losing a good portion of his vision. He referred to his eyesight as a good friend of his, as would I, if I had witnessed as much with mine as he did with his. He was a lucky man for seeing what he did, and a generous one for sharing his experiences with us.

He wrote about what he loved and he wrote more pieces than you’ll find in a super duper deluxe puzzle box.

He saw, but we are the ones who are lucky. We can relive this man’s work any time we feel inclined to break a spine and blow dust off a cover.

He left us a gift, and all you need to receive it is a library card. The card is free, what you can get with it is priceless.

It was at the library that I met Jim Murray.

He was just sitting there, with his other sportswriting comrades just waiting to be read, yearning to teach anyone who was willing to take the time. I thought I would check it out. Good move.

Jim Murray spent most of his adult life writing sports columns for the Los Angeles Times. He is unquestionably one of the greatest sportswriters of all time. People my age tend to not read the oldies, but the oldies are the goodies. The writers of today are the “in thing.”

Michael Bamberger and Rick Reilly are the top guys in the profession these days, but whom do you think they read? Rick Reilly looked up to Jim Murray, just like many readers and writers look up to him today. History is where it’s at. It is not a classic until it has time to age.

There are a great number of people available who long to teach others about life, about their experiences, even about sports. They have a deep pool of knowledge and wisdom.

Sometimes you have to be patient enough to let them dip their net to share their catch with you.

Sometimes they have to die before you recognize their greatness.

Jim Murray had passion in his writing. In the lesser known sports, as well as the regulars like football, baseball and basketball, he always tried to look at his subject through the eyes of someone who had been born blind.

He was as much a painter of pictures as Picasso ever was.

Jim Murray is gone now. He lived a long and productive life, leaving more than a fair share of memories behind for us to cling to. If you want detail on a Don Drysdale pitching performance, a comedy about auto racing or a story of lobs and volleys for the sake of a kitchen platter, then you know where to look.

Everybody needs a hero, I haven’t found mine yet, but thanks to Jim Murray I now know how to look.

Marcus Charter is a sophomore in journalism and mass communications from Ames. He passed the EUT.