esquire.com – Damn, it’s been a tough year for icons.

The day they bury Muhammad Ali in Louisville, Gordie Howe passes away at 88. My first encounter with him was when I was writing at The Boston Phoenix and was filling in one week for the late, great George Kimball. The Hartford Whalers (of sainted memory) were playing a game in the old World Hockey Association and, partly as a gimmick and partly because he was made of wrought-iron, Gordie was playing with his two grown sons. After the game, as I was interviewing him, he called me “sir.” He may in fact be the first person who ever called me “sir,” and I was 26 years younger than he was. They raised their kids right in Floral, Saskatchewan.