At some point during this packed sports February, between the passing of Dale Earnhardt and the XFL's fifteen minutes of fame, between the Mutombo trade and the return of pitchers and catchers, Sergei Bubka quietly retired.

I only found out a couple of weeks after the fact while browsing an obscure area of ESPN.com. After I read the Associated Press brief on his exit, I sat back and thought for a bit. Ultimately, I came to the admittedly odd conclusion that no single athlete is as responsible for my love of sport today as Sergei Bubka, the world's greatest pole vaulter.

I have my father to thank for this. Dad used to take me to see the Millrose Games--generally considered one of the world's premiere indoor track meets--at Madison Square Garden. We'd show up after taking the 2 train into Manhattan--always late, never caring. We'd watch the sprinters and distance runners take their marks, and recognize a few names from TV.

And, at seemingly random points in the program, we'd witness moments of Bubka.

I can't remember ever seeing another vaulter. There's a good chance that by the time Dad and I showed up every year, the Ukranian had already blown the field away. By the time the competition really got interesting, Bubka's opponents were few in number.

There was the bar. There were the twenty feet that separated him from it. There was history.

And there was Bubka himself.

I lack technical knowledge with which to describe Bubka's forays into the Garden air. What I can say is that each and every jump was a perfect example of muscular coordination, and that each revealed unrivaled intensity and focus. I can also say that Bubka's jumps forever changed the way I looked at athletics.