The corner of Chamique Holdsclaw Drive and Lake Loudoun Boulevard on the University of Tennessee campus seemed like the right place to be Sunday afternoon. So I ignored the 90-degree heat, sat down on the concrete and looked across at the nearby statue.
The great thing about statues is they don't change. The Pat Summitt statue looked as strong and commanding as ever.
The only thing different was the vase of flowers at the base of the statue. I don't know who placed them there, but there were thousands of candidates.
Another sportswriter showed up. A television reporter interviewed a couple of students who happened to pass by. But there was no afternoon vigil in response to the widespread news that Summitt's physical condition had worsened.
You didn't have to be at the statue or on campus to be thinking about her. Nor did you have to be a Tennessee fan.
Summitt's fanbase outgrew Knoxville and Tennessee a long time ago. She became the most famous face in her sport while winning 1,098 games and eight national championships in women's basketball.
Those fans have been pulling for her even harder since she was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's disease in 2011 and was forced to retire a year later. I have pulled for her, too.
As a columnist, a certain degree of detachment from your subjects is a necessity. But you couldn't write about a coach as long as I have about Summitt and not have strong feelings.
You meet plenty of famous people in my line of work. You don't meet that many exceptional people. Summitt is exceptional.
I didn't recognize that the first time we crossed paths. I was a sports columnist at the Jackson (Miss.) Clarion-Ledger, and her Lady Vols were playing Maryland in an AIAW tournament in Cleveland, Miss.
Sometimes, when you're at a strange venue covering unfamiliar teams, you scan the bench in search of the head coach. The person in charge isn't always as obvious as you would think.
But it was obvious on the Tennessee bench. Summitt had a presence about her. Little did I know.
Her presence would grow to a national level over the years. So did my respect for her. It wasn't that she won so much, but how she handled winning so much.
The Lady Vols beat Virginia in New Orleans for their third national championship in 1991. They were extended to overtime before pulling out a 70-67 victory.
Moments after the tense victory, as the celebration was cranking up, Summitt told me about how much graduate assistant Angela Lawson had contributed to the victory.
Such contributions are easily forgotten in the heat of championship revelry. You think about a player who made the winning shot, a clutch steal or a clinching rebound. But Summitt also lauded a graduate assistant who had figured prominently in the scouting report and ultimately the game plan.
Summitt didn't just give credit. She made players accountable. And most of all, she made herself accountable.
She never developed a sense of entitlement as the most prominent person in her sport. She kept pushing her staff and players as though their next national title would be their first. She also kept promoting her program as though she feared there was a possibility no one would show up when the arena gates opened on game night.
She has done more than anyone to push and pull the sport right along with her to today's heights. She has been a wonderful role model for female basketball players and women in general.
So many times when I was traveling, people brought up Summitt if I mentioned I was from Tennessee. Some weren't even basketball fans. They were just Summitt fans.
If you could have lined them up Sunday, they would have stretched all the way from her statue to her bedside in support of a coach who has won a lot more than games.
John Adams is a sports columnist for the Knoxville News Sentinel, part of the USA TODAY SPORTS NETWORK.
