Dikembe Mutombo of the Houston Rockets

Maybe it was the name, all six of them, that seemed to stretch for eternity.  Maybe it was the face that looked like it was carved from Easter Island stone.  Maybe it was the elbows sharp enough to break the Sphinx's nose.  Maybe it was the laughter deeper than any ocean, or maybe it was the heart, beating like a star, into the dark places of humanity, bringing light; but I thought you were beyond age and limits, Dikembe.  I thought perhaps your journey from the Congo to America had found you younger, like a successful Ponce de Leon, but even great stone walls in Zimbabwe eventually crumble; so it comes to an end here, on the same end of the floor where your finger wagged like the second hand to Father Time's clock.  You were one of a kind, and you will be missed.

Journeys over maps are not far when one's heart encompasses the globe.