In June, I was lucky enough to go to a Tigers game with John Lowe, who covers the team for the Detroit Free Press. I went with John as he talked with players and managers in both clubhouses, and as we were walking back to the press box John spotted someone he wanted to introduce me to.

It was Ernie.

I actually didn’t even know it was Ernie at first. I was looking down at the ground as we walked, and when John stopped me I was expecting to shake the hand of another writer or maybe a Tigers official.

Instead, it was one of my heroes.

John may have begun introducing me, but if he did he certainly didn’t have to. I was busy jumping back in time about 10 years.

“Mr. Harwell, I’ve been listening to you since I was three,” I said. “You’re just the greatest …” And so on.

Ernie smiled back at me and asked about my interests and how things were going. We chatted for a few minutes. I can’t remember the exact details of the conversation—probably because I was in awe—but I can remember feeling that Ernie had a genuine interest in me.

There he was, a legend, and he took a few minutes of his time to talk with me.

Countless other people had experiences with Harwell just like that. It’s that ability to appreciate human nature that will continue to define his life and his legacy among those who listened.

As a broadcaster, Harwell’s smooth Georgia accent was unmistakable. As a man, his kindness and generosity are unparalleled.

And as far as memories go, he gave me one to last a lifetime.

Thanks, Ernie.