Have you ever run into another human who inexplicably radiated warmth, like they somehow chipped off the sun and plopped it here on earth still glowing?
Well, Rod Kimball was that kind of man. He made you feel better than you were, like you were the only one in the room, that you mattered, that what you did was something special.
Rod Kimball passed away Saturday. He was a month short of his 97th birthday. The last time I saw him was December 2003 in his assisted living apartment in Orem. I wish it had been yesterday.
Rod Kimball worked as BYU's athletic trainer from 1937 to 1975. He had bouts as equipment manager, helped irrigate practice fields and did just about anything else somebody asked him to cover.
His wife, Florence, told me, "When I married Rod, he replaced the two hot water bottles I took to bed at night. He has hands that heal."
Kimball's hands were instruments that worked the tape, gauze and ice on the biggest names in BYU sports history, prior to retiring just when Gifford Nielsen came to prominence as a Cougar quarterback.
Said Nielsen: "He taped my ankles every day and looked into my eyes, and he'd say with that little smile, 'Go your way and sin no more. Remember the NFL is the tool of the devil, but you'll be OK."'
Kimball worked on NCAA rushing leader Pete Van Valkenburg, Eldon "The Phantom" Forte, Phil Odle and all the great track all-Americans, including Clarence Robison. He's outlived many of his contemporaries on the staff — his brother Eddie (a BYU football coach from 1937-41 and 1946-48), his good friend Stan Watts, the legendary Kresimir Cosic, football coach Floyd Millett, coach Chick Atkinson and the legendary back scenes manager Floyd Johnson.
Former BYU athletic director Glen Tuckett started working with Kimball in 1959 and shared a room with him on road trips as head baseball coach.
"I have never known a better man than Rod Kimball," Tuckett said. "He was beloved and respected and will long be remembered, by all who knew him, as the heart and soul of Brigham Young University athletics.
"He could do more coaching and inspiring while taping a player's ankles than we coaches could do in a season. If BYU athletics were to create a Mt. Rushmore, the bust of Rod Kimball would be at the summit. We can never fill his shoes, but it behooves us to try to follow in his footsteps."
Tuckett said the world is running out of special people like Kimball.
He is right.
Kimball, father of 14 children, 12 still living, was an expert in the healing arts — not just sprained ankles, but souls. He was old school. He lived by example. His assignment was to fix what hurt. There are Band-Aids, then there are Band-Aids.
Athletic trainers may tend to sprains and muscle pulls, but any athlete who's had to use one will tell you they tend to do much more. Sometimes they become the one you spill your guts to about things away from bats, balls, cleats and spikes.
Rod Kimball sought to maximize performance instead of laying blame. What happened wasn't as important as what was going to happen.
There isn't a day that goes by at current-day BYU athletics that Rod Kimball's influence doesn't surface in one form or another in the training room.
Said Kevin Morris, BYU's current head football trainer: "Much of what we do at BYU athletic training include procedures that Rod Kimball instituted a very long time ago. Not only is he a legend around here, but he's a member of the national, district and state trainer halls of fame."
One of the procedures Kimball used is tobacco — that's right, tobacco — at BYU. Kimball knew the scientific value of using tobacco patches on bruises and contusions to help the injury heal faster, a practice that has been continued through the decades to help ailing players and was an ancient remedy for cattle.
"All the trainers I've worked with over the years have spoken highly of Rod, his honesty, integrity and the inspiring service he gave to athletes both on and off the field," Morris said.
Retired BYU trainer George Curtis said he was saddened by Kimball's passing.
"Rod was one of the main reasons I chose to go into athletic training," Curtis said.
On Monday, LaVell Edwards remembered the first time he saw Rod Kimball.
"He was playing (church) basketball for the Grandview Ward with Floyd Johnson," said Edwards, who was a 10-year-old in Orem at the time.
"When I came to BYU in 1962, he was a one-man operation, nothing like what they have now. Rod was a genuine great person with a great sense of humor. He always had stories to tell. I think he did more to help kids by talking to them than by treating them. He and Floyd were cut out of the same mold."
Born in St. David, Ariz., Kimball graduated from Jordan High in 1929 as the school's all-around student-athlete.
His father, Crozier, was first cousin to the late LDS Church President Spencer W. Kimball. They shared the same grandfather, Heber C. Kimball.
If those credentials don't paint a picture of Rod, few resumes would. But Rod Kimball's real resume stands out on the faces and spirits of folks he put his hands on.
He had the Midas Touch. And it didn't come with a brass band, a parade, fanfare or a wall full of certificates.
In his humble way, Rod Kimball was a master teacher of the understated things in life, little nuances that many gloss over on the way to becoming whatever they are. He knew the value of remembering names, dispensing light shoulder taps, sharing an anecdote or story that applied. He focused on the inside while tending to skin, bones and muscles.
At 96, it might have been time to return to the light that brought Rod Kimball into this world. But the warmth of just thinking of this little big man sure leaves an inner fire on this cold, bitter January day.
E-mail: dharmon@desnews.com