While scrolling the web last night, I came across a piece of news I somehow missed: the legendary broadcaster Bill Mercer passed away in March at the age of 99.

If you’ve ever studied the golden age of sports and news broadcasting, then you’ve felt Bill’s presence, even if you didn’t know his name. He covered the JFK assassination. He called The Ice Bowl. He gave voice to the rise, and heartbreak, of wrestling’s Von Erich family. He even worked alongside the infamous Harry Caray before many knew who Harry Caray was. When history unfolded, Bill was often there, microphone in hand.

But for me, he wasn’t just a voice of the past. Bill was the voice that helped shape my future.

I was a kid from Pittsburgh, thick accent and all, arriving in Texas to study Radio, TV, and Film at the University of North Texas. I wanted to be a sports broadcaster more than anything. My first class? Sports Broadcasting with Bill Mercer.

He had a no-nonsense approach: hand you a tape recorder, send you to a high school game, and make you record your play-by-play. You can bet, he didn’t sugarcoat feedback. One day, he spent half a class trying to get me to pronounce the word “oil” properly. (Spoiler: I never did.) But he was patient, persistent, and, most of all, he cared.

Bill didn’t just teach broadcasting. He taught life. He mentored me, both in and outside of the classroom. He brought me in on his projects. Showed me how to shoot and edit video, how to light a shot, how to think critically about content. Back when editing meant rewinding Super VHS tapes, Bill was there walking me through every frame.

His lessons stuck. Most I still carry with me every day:

• Work hard and never stop learning.
• Stay versatile, you never know when you’ll need to pivot or reinvent yourself.
• And, of course, never order spaghetti at an all-you-can-eat seafood restaurant. (I did it once. He never let me forget it: “I took Rossi to Frank & Janey’s, and he orders spaghetti!” followed by that unforgettable boisterous laugh.)

I was lucky to know Bill Mercer. He was generous with his time, his wisdom, his stories, and even a couch when I had no furniture when moving into my first apartment.

He never held knowledge close, he gave it away freely, believing the next generation deserved to be just as prepared as he was.

We need more people like Bill, people who pass the torch, who lift others up, who make time to teach.

If you’ve got experience, share it. If you’ve got wisdom, speak it. You never know who you might inspire or what ripple effect you might set in motion.

That’s what Bill did for me.

And I’ll always be grateful.