Here's all you need to know about what made former University of Tennessee sports information director Haywood Harris arguably the most unforgettable, irreplaceable athletics department figure in school history:
Asked to comment on Harris, who passed away Wednesday at the age of 80, UT golf coach Jim Kelson said this during a rain delay at the NCAA men's championship at the Honors Course:
"He was a vivacious guy who sure loved Tennessee. He was so nice to me, personally, and so nice to so many people. He was a joy to be around, and I never saw him in a bad mood or say a bad thing about anybody."
Granted, any UT employee might say the same of a man who became General Robert R. Neyland's final hire in 1961, then served the athletics department in one capacity or another for the next 49 years.
But when UT released its official obit of Harris early Wednesday afternoon, it contained the following quote from his great friend and fellow employee Gus Manning: "Haywood played golf but said it was a waste of time."
So even a sport Harris wasn't wild about was apparently crazy about him. Indeed, as Kelson also noted, "Haywood had a lot of integrity and a lot of class."
The concrete example of that integrity was his singular marriage to the wonderful Carolyn Jo, which ultimately produced three children, four grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.
Examples of his class ran from the button-down shirt, coat and tie he always wore to football and basketball games, to the right hand he always extended when greeting you, to the phone calls he always promptly returned. And always with the understated grace and dignity of the consummate Southern gentleman.
All of the above led Pat Forde of ESPN to sweetly describe Harris as "courtly."
A UT fan on one Vols message board wrote: "(Harris) might question a man's political beliefs, or his sports affinity, but never his character. And in a culture where curse words are thrown around like commas, I never heard him utter a single vulgarity. Not even H-E-double toothpicks."
Yet that wasn't necessarily why so many folks loved him.
Stranded in the rain at The Honors Course, current UT football sports information director John Painter recalled hiking up Mount LeConte with Harris just three years ago.
"We started out and Haywood was carrying this backpack that must have weighed 50 pounds," said Painter. "He lasted about half a mile and then we had to divide it up. It ended up being a long, long day and by the time we got back to the bottom it was dark and Haywood's family was really worried about him.
"We got in the car to head home and he looked at me and said, 'That was so stupid ... I could have died up there.' But he loved to walk. He'd walk all over that campus, up and down those hills. He walked more than anybody I ever knew."
He walked and he talked, especially on Saturdays, when he and Manning hosted "The Locker Room" radio show, which celebrated its 49th season in 2009.
"Haywood was smart, smarter than the rest of us," said John Ward, the retired Voice of the Vols. "Perhaps more times than we'll ever know, a smart suggestion from Haywood to the higher-ups helped create the positive image UT enjoys today among people from all walks of life."
His own life took a turn for the worse when he suffered a stroke on the morning of the Vols' football game against Memphis last November. He never quite recovered, though as late as three weeks ago Painter recalled him, "Making plans for what we'd be doing in August and September once football started back."
For a lot of us, our fondest memories of Harris will be those Saturday afternoons inside the Neyland Stadium press box, his raspy, east Tennessee voice delivering the play-by-play.
Most of the time his calls were perfect, the right ball carrier, the right tackler, the right yardage. But pronouncing Auburn receivers Devin Aromashodu and Ben Obomanu during a 34-10 loss at Neyland in 2004 probably tempted Harris to mutter H-E-double toothpicks.
And then there was the afternoon former UT coach Phillip Fulmer threw his cap in disgust and Harris briefly announced, "There's a flag on the play," before correcting himself to note, "No, it's an orange cap."
Yet those were rare, rare exceptions in a career that landed him in four Hall of Fames, including the Tennessee Sports Hall of Fame in 2005.
Said Manning, using words surely seconded by every Big Orange backer who ever crossed Harris's path, "I have lost an incredible friend."
E-mail Mark Wiedmer at mwiedmer@timesfreepress.com