Longtime Philadelphia Inquirer sports columnist Bill Lyon died on Sunday at age 81 after a battle with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases.

If you’re a younger Philadelphia sports fan, you might not be familiar with Lyon, who retired from full-time work in 2005 while writing only occasionally over the next 14 years. But trust me when I tell you that he was a hell of a writer, a wonderful story teller who racked up a laundry list of professional accomplishments.

Here’s a sampling of what he achieved, via the Philadelphia Sports Hall of Fame, into which he was inducted back in 1999:

  • Author of 6 books including “When the Clock Runs Out” and “We Owed You One” (with Pat Williams)
  • 6-time Pulitzer Prize nominee
  • Recipient of the National Headliner Award
  • Winner of 8 Keystone Press Awards
  • Winner of 9 Associated Press Writing Awards
  • 7-time winner of Pennsylvania Sportswriter of the Year (1977, 1979-84)
  • Winner of 2 Emmys for TV writing

Lyon covered Super Bowls, Final Fours, The Masters, Triple Crown races, numerous World Series, and pretty much everything in between. Maybe his best writing, though was the honesty with which he confronted Alzheimer’s during his later years.

Mike Sielski wrote a fantastic column on Sunday titled “Bill Lyon set the standard here, as a writer, as a mentor, as a man.”

Writes Mike:

Here’s what a mentor does once you’ve found him:

He counsels you, professionally and personally. He invites you into his home, into his family, and allows you to invite him into yours. He travels with you on road trips, jets and puddle-jumpers and long car rides to Eagles games and NCAA tournaments, always having dinner at the hotel restaurant because … well, who needs to splurge, even when you’re on an expense account?

He talks with you for hours about the craft of writing, about the ability to see the story right in front of you that no one else can see, about the sacrifices that this life requires and the joys and benefits it can bring, about the truth of this profession: that if you’re doing it right, you’re not really writing about sports. You’re writing about people, so search for and highlight the humanity in the games boys and girls can play.

He writes throughout a six-year fight against the most insidious of diseases, one that steals his mind and his memories. When you write about his Alzheimer’s and his efforts to fend off the darkness, in early 2017, he leaves you a voice-mail message that you have preserved since, because his voice and mind are clear and he tells you that he loves you. He loses Ethel, in their 53rd year of marriage, after her own struggles with cancer and emphysema, and before he dies at age 81 on a chilly Sunday evening, he will have shown more dignity and vulnerability and bravery than just about anyone you’ve ever known. He is the standard here, and he always will be. We will never find another.

Sounds like a great guy. I never met him, but had the privilege of reading his writing. If you’re looking for a starting point, check out what he wrote prior to Super Bowl 52:

Deliverance is at hand for the Eagles, who will win the Super Bowl

RIP.