Shatel: Greg Sharpe's burning passion for life will be his defining legacy

Farewell, Big Eight Brother.

Greg Sharpe was my friend and my colleague.

And he would become so much more than that in ways I could never have imagined.

But even more than that, he was my Big Eight Brother.

I affectionately called him that and we laughed at the idea.

But we had an undeniable connection that I cherished.

We both hailed from Kansas City Greg from Olathe, Kan., me from south Kansas City, Mo.

We both grew up with a love for sports.

In our case, college sports.

And the Big Eight Conference was king.

The first basketball game Greg attended was a Nebraska-Kansas game in the 1971 Big Eight Holiday Tournament.

And I wouldnt be surprised if I was at the same game.

We had parallel dreams of being in the press box.

Gregs heroes were broadcasters, the men behind the mike calling Big Eight games.

My heroes were a level below, typing on press row.

We both went to Big Eight schools, graduated with journalism degrees and worked our way up the press box ladder.

Our parallel lives extended to the home with loving wives and three daughters each.

Luckiest guys in the world.

But perhaps our strongest connection was the fire that burned to do a profession that neither one of us ever called a job.

We looked at it as a passion.

An honor.

Greg once told me that he often thought about the audience who he was reaching.

The man in a rocking chair in McCook.

Or the farmer listening to the game in his cab while working the fields.

He loved the idea that he was speaking to an entire state, painting the picture of a football game that meant so much.

Man, I could relate to that.

Those are my initial thoughts today, and I hope you dont mind if I stop to wipe a tear or two from my keyboard.

Greg Sharpe has left us.

I heard the news on Saturday, the weekly holiday for college sports fans.

And I wondered, did God need a veteran voice to call a football game in heaven? Id known Greg since the early 90s, when he was a sports anchor at WIBW in Topeka, Kan., and later as the lead play-by-play man for his alma mater, Kansas State.

He called both Wildcat football and basketball games and any voice that does that isnt just a broadcaster to a fan base.

Hes family.

Greg had a heart and talent big enough for two families.

The pressure to deliver to fan bases as large and passionate as Nebraska and K-State is incredible.

Greg handled both with ease.

He was the Natural, playing the role he was born to play, living the life he always dreamed.

When the light came on and the producer threw it to him to speak to the world, the passion took over.

It was in his voice.

A lasting image of Greg for me will always be at the 1998 Nebraska-Kansas State game at KSU Stadium, a night when Greg couldnt have known his two worlds were colliding.

In the KSU Stadium press box, the writer's area and the broadcast booth were separated by glass.

As K-State was winning the biggest game in its history, I remember looking over at Sharpe and his partner, Stan Weber.

Greg was animated, pumping his fist, his voice booming as he punctuated the previous play.

But in the last year, I have many more images that I will remember Greg by.

And many lessons, too.

It started last spring, when I called him up to interview him about his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer and his upcoming fight.

His voice was strong, his sense of humor intact, his tone matter of fact.

He was, well, Greg.

And why would I expect anything different? As he entered the fight of his life, his appearance changed.

He lost over 20 pounds.

His arm was in a sling from the treatments.

But Greg did not change.

You could tell people werent sure what to say to him.

But Greg disarmed the situation by being Greg.

Over the years, we would always talk about what was happening in the Big 12, or at K-State, or Husker baseball or football.

I remember making sure to do that whenever I saw him in the last year.

To be honest, it was more for me than it was for Greg.

I think about him meeting his goal to be at last seasons Nebraskas football opener.

When Greg walked into the press lounge, his smile lit up the room.

I sadly think about him missing another important goal, his daughter's wedding next week.

But the caring and doting dad's presence and spirit will be felt.

Greg will be there and he'll be proud.

I think about the embrace between Greg and Nebraska baseball coach Will Bolt last May after NU won the Big Ten Baseball tournament at Charles Schwab Field.

Love, admiration and respect were written all over Bolts face.

I think, too, about the wonderful day when NU named the press box radio booth after Greg, including a large display with words from one of his calls.

You could see and feel the joy and pride in Greg with his family next to him.

And the uneasiness; Greg never wanted any moment to be about him.

But I couldnt help but think about the courage, too, in that moment as Greg knew he wouldnt get the chance to set foot in that booth again.

For guys like Greg, the real awards and honors are always the next time you get to step into the press box and share your passion with the world.

As I read the countless social media posts and comments about Greg on Saturday, from Kansas State to Purdue and everyone in Nebraska, it struck me that these were the ultimate tribute.

I believe a mans legacy is how he made people feel.

Starting with his family.

But also anyone he came in touch with.

We are seeing what we already knew, that Greg Sharpe made a lot of people feel good.

He made them feel excited, sad and all the other emotions of a fall Saturday afternoon.

When some think of a special Husker game, they'll think of his voice.

He provided memories they will carry on forever.

Mostly, Greg Sharpe, up in that booth, made a lot of people fall in love with college football.

I think he would really feel good about that.

He was my friend.

My colleague.

But in the last year, Greg became my inspiration.

My hero.

I'm going to miss those talks.

I'm going to miss those times when I felt cynical about the game or the job and his attitude would snap me back into place.

But now, whenever I see his tribute in the Memorial Stadium press box, Ill think about courage, dignity, professionalism and how to treat people.

And, of course, passion for doing what you love to do.

Godspeed, my Big Eight Brother.

Its been a privilege.

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