Why the death of John Saunders rocked the sports world so hard

If you grew up male in America -- and the same goes for many women, but particularly if you grew up male in America -- sports were likely among your first portals to the world at large.

Sports -- or more accurately, the personalities and narratives that spring forth from these arbitrary games -- were an introduction to what's possible in life, to what dreams are, to what defines character and decency and the darker parts of human nature.

If you happened to grow up in America during the 1990s or 2000s, your consumption of sports was defined largely by ESPN, the broadcasting behemoth. The storylines and personalities ESPN beamed out everyday contributed to shaping your notion of the world, at least for a while. Stories of seasons saved or tragic downfalls became parables as much as news. Anchors, analysts and athletes became archetypes.

That's why the unexpected death of venerable ESPN broadcaster John Saunders on Wednesday morning rocked the sports world so hard. Saunders, as he appeared on TV, was an archetype of the Good Man for many of us. He and others, such as Bob Ley, who still works at the network, were the ESPNers who wore the grown-up pants. They represent the most respectable and thoughtful of what ESPN has to offer.

Stuart Scott, who passed away last year after a long battle with cancer, showed so many kids of my generation that you could be a dorky sports nerd but also as cool as the other side of the pillow. Saunders -- especially through his thoughtful coverage on studio shows such as The Sports Reporters -- showed silly games to be infused with depth and meaning if viewed through the right lens.

For kids who saw the world through sports, and for some of us adults who still do, Saunders was a guide, an illuminator, a figure of almost parental stature. And we can't forget that his play-by-play work was top-notch as well; the man had as much versatility as he did gravitas.

Saunders was just 61 years old when he passed; his cause of death was not initially revealed Wednesday. Immediately after the sad news broke, media colleagues from all corners poured forth with digital remembrances and condolences. That's an almost perfunctory reaction on some level, but pay special attention to the words these professional communicators use in recalling Saunders -- they are rare honorifics that speak to his influence.

Then there's this story from SportsCenter anchor Scott Van Pelt, who apparently learned of Saunders' death while at a gymnastics event for his young daughter. Saunders had two daughters of his own.

That's not a tribute to a colleague or a sports broadcaster -- that's a tribute to a man, to a human being. It's a story only a close colleague like Van Pelt can tell, yet it speaks to the class and humanity Saunders emanated to millions more through backlit screens.

But everyone has layers they keep hidden from the broader world, which can so often be cruel and unrelenting. Saunders was ready to publicly share something very personal, something about which most fans had no clue.

The man so many associate with confidence and polish wrote a book about his lifelong struggle with depression. It's called Playing Hurt: My Journey from Despair to Hope. It is, or at least was, scheduled for release next April.

"His story unfolds as so many of our lives do -- among family, friends, and colleagues -- but it also peers into places we don't often discuss openly -- psych wards and hospitals," the book's description reads. "Here is the honest story of a public figure facing his own mental illness head on, and emerging far better off for his effort."

For those of us who only admired Saunders from afar, perhaps that's the biggest tragedy in all this. He was prepared to use his trademark grace and wisdom not just to illuminate the world of sports, but to help people with depression. Then, abruptly on Wednesday morning, he was gone for reasons that are as-yet unknown.

Whatever the cause, Saunders' death leaves a gaping hole in the world of sports media. His presence often reminded so many of us why we entered this business in the first place, of both the height and depth sports journalism can reach when done right and done with human decency. Now his absence is one that won't be filled any time soon.