I spent many nights at his house as a child. I went on road trips with his family. I saw him make one of the greatest throws from right field to nab a runner at home plate that I’ve ever witnessed.

I also witnessed that same throwing arm nail many unsuspecting cars on South Eleventh Street with deadly accurate snow balls.

Later, I watched him follow his passion as a golfer….even having the privilege to write about his impressive accomplishments a few times.

Now, he’s gone and I struggle to believe it. I’m kicked-in-the-gut stunned. I guess the good really do die young.

Ricky Fannin, he of the ever-present ear-to-ear smile, the very picture of a perfect gentleman, has prematurely left this world at the age of 41.

Tears do no good, but they come because of the memories. Ricky left many memories in my heart, not just because he was my friend, but because of his continually positive demeanor. Warmth flowed from him. You actually felt like he genuinely cared about you as a person when you were in his presence.

Interviewing him about his monster drives in various national golf tournaments, I remember the humbleness he instinctively defaulted to when describing his feats. I also remember leaning over a putt on a par 4 hole at the Ironton Country Club and hearing his tee-shot land and roll onto the green. The incredulous laughs of those in my party simply said, “Fannin’s behind us.”

I remember him sitting beside me in Central Christian Church as we took in, as much as young kids do, the message of the pastor.

I remember whiffle ball games, basketball tournaments and back-yard football games. I remember all night games of Kick-the-Can and Capture-the-Flag.

I remember a kid who grew up more affluent than I did, but never once made me feel inferior.

Mostly, I remember that the caring heart he had as a child followed him into adulthood.

This is so sad because people like Ricky Fannin aren’t supposed to leave so early.

During our late ‘70s and early ‘80s childhood, Ricky, John Lewis, Bobbi Horn, Danny Webb, Bill Thomas, Billy Triplett, Ricky Heaberlin, Steve Turner, Mike Stormes, Mark Haas, Chris Donahue, Jeff Smith, Eric and Ty Barnes, Randy Hall, Rick Johnson, Todd Miller and I spent countles days terrorizing our neighborhood.

I’m certain I inadvertently left several people out. Ricky’s house was our crashing pad. His parents, Mike and Carolyn, always made us feel at home. Ricky’s attitude mirrored his mom and dad.

Sometimes we teased him because his family was affluent, calling him Ricky Rich. Sure, he saw the differences. But he never acted as if he was better than any of us. He was always smiling, always listening, always too busy being a friend to notice anything other than you as a person.

Few things bother me anymore. Life happens, for better or worse, and then it goes on. But this really hurts.

If I’ve accomplished only one thing with this article, I want Mike and Carolyn Fannin to know that their son made a great impact on me and countless others.

God bless the Fannin family.

Billy Bruce is a freelance writer who lives in Pedro. He can be contacted at hollandkat3@aol.com.