A half century ago, one of the most respected sports writers in the country was Red Smith, an intelligent, insightful scribe who penned beautiful prose for the New York Times.

Now, with the passing of Al Oerter, 15 words written by Smith resound as the ultimate tribute to the Kansas University grad who became world-famous because of his uncanny ability to throw a platter.

“It is inexact to describe Oerter as a discus thrower,” Smith wrote. “He is THE discus thrower.”

He is indeed. Still is, as a matter of fact. In track circles, Oerter is to the discus what Henry Ford is to automobiles, Bill Gates is to software and Wilt Chamberlain is to basketball.

Neither Ford nor Gates nor Chamberlain invented his specialty, but their names are inextricably linked with the auto, the computer and roundball, respectively.

Oerter and the discus. The discus and Oerter. Unless you’re a hardcore track fan, it’s doubtful you can name another notable discus thrower.

Oerter won his first Olympics gold medal when he was 20 years old, the summer after his sophomore year at KU. Amazing. He won his second when he was 24 years old. Surprising. He won his third was he was 28 years old. Stunning. And he won his fourth gold in a row when he was 32. Astonishing.

Wait, there’s more. In the spring of 1987, when Oerter was 50 years old, he announced he was going to attempt to win a fifth gold medal. What???? Get serious, Al. But he wasn’t kidding. In fact, he turned up at the Kansas Relays in the spring of ’87 as part of his training program for the ’88 Olympic Trials.

Needless to say, never before and never since have so many people surrounded the discus area northeast of Memorial Stadium as on that April day 20 years ago.

They came to see an anachronism, a 6-foot-4, 270-pound grandfather – he had a 1-year-old grandson at the time – try to beat Father Time.

“I have daughters much older than some of my competitors,” Oerter had mentioned before the meet. “You know, it’s a little strange when they call you Mr. Oerter.”

I wish I could tell you Oerter won the Relays discus that day. He didn’t, but it wasn’t because of his age. He was forced to withdraw because of back spasms, an ailment that can strike anyone, regardless of age.

Oerter’s first toss in the preliminaries was slightly out of bounds in the left quadrant. His second toss, however, landed in fair territory and was measured at a respectable 174 feet, 11 inches.

He wouldn’t make a third throw. When it came time for him to step into the ring named in his honor, instead he took the microphone on the portable public-address system and apologized, saying he was suffering from back spasms and didn’t want to do anything to his back “that would take two months to heal.”

Then he walked away to a noisy round of applause.

Oerter would not qualify for the 1988 Olympics in Seoul, Korea, but he continued to flip the platter in Masters competition until he was 52. Then he shifted his attention to – of all things – painting.

His days at the Olympics weren’t over, however. In 1996 in Atlanta, Oerter was accorded the honor of being the last torch bearer to carry the flame into the stadium.

Never has there been a more classic example of an icon holding an icon.