The greatest athlete I've even known

On Saturday, I said goodbye to the greatest athlete I've ever known.

A three-sport star in high school, he was a local celebrity in the small town of Farmington, ME. He didn't play past college, and he never made a dime for stepping onto the field.

He excelled in basketball and baseball, and dabbled in track and field, but his true passion was football. And after his senior year of high school, he agreed to attend Bowdoin College to play the game, at the behest of the then famous Adam Walsh. He was recruited before recruiting existed. And he didn't disappoint.

At Bowdoin he starred as a center and a defensive back, making weekly headlines in local papers, and being named to myriad all-star teams. In his senior year at Bowdoin, he was named to the All Maine Football team as the best center in the state, and went down (in my mind at least) as one of the best centers in a storied Bowdoin history.

My grandfather never played sports for money, fame, or glory. He played because he loved to. He played because it made him happy.

And happiness was always a top priority in his life. He was, to quote my father, a man who "abhorred unhappiness," and he did anything he could to make himself and everyone else happy.

After his Bowdoin days, he attended Cornell University School of Medicine, but was too in love with the woman who would be his wife to stay away long enough to finish.

He was drafted shortly after getting married, and following his service in World War II, he renewed his relationship with football, and began officiating high school games every Saturday in Rockland, where he made every call as fairly as he could, even if it meant being chased out of town by home team fans.

He was a die hard Dallas Cowboys fan, going back to the days of Tony Dorsett, and he loved to watch Notre Dame. In his later years he came to enjoy watching Tiger Woods dominate the golfing world with dignity and class, and he was an avid fly fisherman for much of his life.

He was the best athlete I've known, but of all the things he taught me, sports are at the bottom of the list. He was never rich, and indeed never had much money to speak of, but you would never know it to meet him. At first encounter you'd probably think that he was the richest man in the world, and I think that in his opinion, he was.

He was in a loving marriage for 59 years, had four children, 11 grandchildren, and seven great grand children, all of whom adored him. In a world where money can buy you anything, his currency was happiness.

I look at the world, in sports, entertainment, and our college campus, and listen to people talk about what's fair and what's unfair, what's right and what's not right, and what should and shouldn't be. I listen to complaints and accusations, and I feel sorry. I feel sorry for every person on earth who wasn't lucky enough to meet my grandfather, and see what it really is that makes you happy. I feel sorry for everyone who didn't get to shake his hand and hear him laugh and see him smile. I feel sorry for everyone who can't seem to understand how well off they are; who waste so many of their days complaining about things that aren't fair that they don't even have time to laugh.

Because what's really not fair is that the man who, as far as I can tell, led the happiest life out of anyone had his whisked away from him. What's not fair is that after 59 years of a loving marriage, my grandmother now lives alone, and has her own battles with cancer. What's not fair is that nobody else will ever get to meet my grandfather and get to know him, and learn just how trivial everybody's little grumblings really can be.

He was a great athlete, but he realized better than anyone that sports aren't everything. He realized that being happy, and making other people happy can be the greatest thing in life.

I firmly believe that everybody who met him during his life is a better person for having done so. He probably wouldn't have approved of me writing this, and making such a big deal. He would have preferred to keep quiet about it.

Even during his final days he refused to complain about anything, not wanting to bother anybody else with his troubles. And when he was too weak to get out of bed, he would still greet you with a big jolly "hello," and offer you something to eat. It was just his nature to be happy, I guess.

He may have been a stellar athlete, but he was a far better grandpa.