I’ve seen so many incredible things. I was at Yankee Stadium for games three, four and five of the 2001 World Series. Saw the President throw a strike. Heard the “Paul O’Neill” chant with my own ears.

I was on the field mere moments after Luis Gonzalez’s historic hit in Game Seven.

I was there in Dallas when the Cardinals beat the Cowboys in the playoffs a decade ago.

Was exhilarated by my first ever Coyote White Out.

But I’ve often told people that the most fun I’ve ever had covering one team over the course of one season, was the 1996 Arizona State University Sun Devil football team.

The journey was incredible, the moments unforgettable, the highs exhilarating and the lows indescribable. A magical story. Someone described that season as one of the best in the history of ASU. No. One of the best in the history of Phoenix sports.

Its author was Bruce Snyder and today he is gone.

Coach Snyder was 69-years-old and succumbed to the cancer he was diagnosed with back in June.

He and I weren’t friends by any stretch. But some of my favorite memories of my early days as a broadcaster came in covering his Monday press conferences. Listening to him talk about football, I was hypnotized. Listening to his passion about his team, I was inspired.

I mean, my gosh, I went to the U of A. But because of Coach Snyder I rooted for ASU.

Watching the goal posts come down after the Nebraska game, calling my wife to say I’d be late for a wedding we were supposed to go to because I just had to stay and watch the USC game. The sight of someone sticking a Rose in Snyder’s pocket after the Cal game. Listening to him tell the world his team was the best in the land after beating the Wildcats. Seeing the pain in his face after the Ohio State game.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Charles Dickens had it right.

In December, on a tribute show I hosted on Sports 620 KTAR honoring the late Tom Dillon, Coach Snyder was a guest. When he informed all of us that the cancer had spread to his brain, without even thinking about it, I murmured “oh coach…”

But he stopped me right there. There was to be no pity for him, instead, a promise from him. To fight. To not quit.

Today he lost that fight. But with his family by his side and his dog at his feet, Coach Snyder gave me yet another lesson:

On how to live a life.