Walter Payton would have been 52 years old today, but, alas, only the good die young.

It's popular for sports pundits to periodically proclaim their "greatest of all time" lists.  This endeavor is nothing more than a silly parlor game.  And so it's futile to designate Walter Payton's place among the all time greats in his sport.  Comparing players from disparate eras creates problems that even the greatest mathematicians cannot solve. 

Nevertheless, I can say without reservation that Walter Payton was the greatest running back and most complete football player I've ever seen.  He wasn't blessed with the power of Jim Brown, the speed of Barry Sanders, or the agility of the double murderer O.J. Simpson.  But he excelled at every facet of the game.  And he dominated the most physically demanding of sports for more than a decade, the brunt of his career spent playing for teams that were woefully undermanned.

In rushing the ball, Payton had few peers.  He shattered Jim Brown's NFL record for career rushing yards, and remains in second place all time.  But that was just one aspect of his prowess.  He was the best at catching passes out of the backfield.  He relished - and excelled at - blocking, an almost unprecedented skill for a halfback.  And nobody threw a better option pass.

If the NFL held punt, pass, and kick competitions for its players, Payton would have won every year. 

He missed just one game in his 13 year career, a feat that belied his style of running: He seemed to prefer running over tacklers rather than trying to elude them.  In a game on a rainy field in Tampa Bay, Payton knocked unconscious two Buccaneer defenders on the same play.

Although he never shied away from contact, he played shrewdly and efficiently.  He avoided at all costs being at the bottom of a pileup where dirty play by opponents could lead to injury.  And so rather than playing the game of possum Jim Brown would play after being tackled, Payton would typically bounce up quickly after being taken down by an opponent and return to the huddle.  His high-legged style of running also helped prevent him from buckling his knees when he'd make a cut or pivot, a method which may have spared fellow Chicago great Gale Sayers from an all too brief career.

He grew up in segregated Mississippi and became an icon in the Windy City.  He is sorely missed.