For a presentation at the Black Archives of Mid-America in 2018, Pellom McDaniels' biography described him first as "scholar, author, historian, activist, poet ..."
And that was just the start when it came to the modern-day renaissance man whose intellectual curiosity and sheer humanity knew few bounds.
As it happens, McDaniels also was a backup defensive lineman and linebacker for the Chiefs from 1993 to 1998.
But he became the rare NFL veteran whose legacy and influence were less defined by that phase of his life than what he went on to do and become with his doctorate and creativity and goodwill.
"In my opinion, he epitomizes what an athlete is supposed to be," said Bob Kendrick, president of the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum who knew McDaniels as a board member (and eventual chairman of the board) dedicated to the NLBM and other causes. "He was a tremendous human being with a caring soul and caring heart who understood what a sense of community was all about."
That's why he is being mourned so intensely in the wake of what the family has called his sudden death on Sunday at age 52. No further details were known as of Monday afternoon.
A "force of nature" wrote his friend and mine, Craig Prentiss, professor of theology and religious studies at Rockhurst.
A "powerful and noble soul," Dianne M. Stewart, his colleague at Emory University, tweeted.
"An amazing player, an amazing participant in this community," Kansas City mayor Quinton Lucas said at a news conference on Monday. "What he has done in his professional and professorial career has been inspiring."
As such, McDaniels was the curator of African-American collections at Emory University and just as passionate about being a humanitarian, husband, father and friend.
Before that, he was a professor at UMKC who served as a board member of the National World War I Museum. He was a painter of profound portraits who dabbled in broadcasting ... among too many other talents to list.
Among his many causes and contributions, both subtle and more grandly known, he was a leader of the Robotics Club at Academie Lafayette and with his wife, Navvab, started the Arts for Smarts Foundation and the Fish Out of Water Writing Club to inspire art in children.
Oh, and he held a patent, No. 6660776, seemingly in another universe entirely and described thusly by JUSTIA Patents:
"Abstract: A composition and method for lubricating and protecting the oral cavity generally and specifically the teeth, gums and tongue using a flavored petrolatum. In the preferred embodiment, the composition contains about 96%-98% (w/w) of petrolatum and about 2%-4% (w/w) of flavoring.
"The composition is liberally applied to the affected areas of the oral cavity to lubricate and protect those areas during dental or medical procedures having an aesthetically pleasing flavor without leaving an undesirable aftertaste."
He was better known as an author, including "So You Want To Be a Pro?" in 1999, as described in an Emory profile, "to help young people understand not only the odds against reaching the level of their sports heroes (roughly 10,000 to 1) but the value of shaping athletic skills into job skills."
He also published a volume of poetry called "My Own Harlem," exploring the culture of the 18th & Vine District.
His books included "The Prince of Jockeys: The Life of Isaac Burns Murphy" _ who was born into slavery and became the first three-time winner of the Kentucky Derby.
Tellingly, he researched that for seven years before its release in 2013 and found enormous purpose in the pursuit of telling a story he aptly called significant to American history despite so little being known about Murphy.
"If I don't do this work that I'm doing, who else will do it?" he said in a 2015 interview. "I have a unique perspective. And if I don't do it, these stories will ... never get told."
All of which is why the story should be told again now of someone who created his own canvas after growing up with his grandparents in California and playing football at Oregon State and starting in the work force on a managerial track at Procter & Gamble.
From there, he saw a flier in a Gold's Gym in Sacramento advertising the World League of Professional Football, which ultimately led him to the Chiefs.
A fine footnote to a life that could have gone about anywhere, it turns out, in part because he applied the same intense rigor to academia and all his other endeavors that he had focused on football.
Maybe this story he once told another Emory publication about his need to keep creating helps explain how his journey went so many wonderful different ways.
"Someone once told me you have to sell your work because your wife's not going to like having all this stuff around the house," he said. "Another wise individual remarked that some of these things (ideas developed through the works you create) you have to let go.
"Because if you keep them next to you, you never grow beyond that."
And so, hard as it is to let go for so many now, he grew into someone to cherish and embrace and celebrate even as we mourn.
