I remember the first time I ever became keenly aware of who Sean Taylor was, as a football player. It was against FSU in a torrential downpour. I was up in Tallahassee visiting friends for the Miami-FSU game and braved the inclement weather and a brutal hangover to go watch one of college football's best rivalries. I expected to see a close, hard fought game between two powerful and talented teams. What I got was a one man show. Sean Taylor had three interceptions that day (it could've been 6) and returned one for a touchdown on the wettest, sloppiest field I'd ever personally seen a game played on. For his part, Taylor was the biggest, most physically impressive safety that I'd ever laid eyes on. Bigger than most linebackers, with the speed of a tailback, and instincts for the safety position that only the greats possess. I was in awe on his talent on that wet Saturday afternoon and had watched him (and even rooted for him) intently ever since.
Today, I'm just saddened that he'll never get the chance to see his daughter grow up or, really, to grow up himself. I'm 30 and haven't begun to figure out my life. Sean Taylor died last night at the age of 24. I don't know where he is now but, in my mind, he'll always be splashing into the endzone on the sloppy field at Doak Campbell in October.