A tribute to Houston Rockets legend Dikembe Mutumbo

This will be my least favorite article I've ever written.

Some Houston Rockets fans will remember Dikembe Mutumbo fondly. Younger fans may not associate him with the franchise. Mutumbo played with the Rockets in his 40s, not his prime. Although, it's worth noting that he picked up where Yao Ming left off when he got injured during their historic 22-game winning streak in 2007-08.

I want to write about basketball sparingly in this piece. Granted, writing about Dikembe Mutumbo's legacy is impossible without talking hoops. The man was a mountain. Mutumbo was one of the most formidable rim protectors in NBA history.

It's just that he was also so much more than that. Mutumbo was goodness personified.

We lost him far too early.

Basketball world mourns the loss of a legend

Mutumbo was a philanthropist. The Dikimbe Mutumbo Foundation built hospitals in Africa. After he retired from basketball, Mutumbo set out with a fundamentally simple goal:

Help people.

That's what Mutumbo wanted to do. When he was at Georgetown, he studied medicine. A profound love of humanity drove him. For Mutumbo, basketball felt like a foray. As a 7'2" behemoth, why not spend a couple of decades swatting shots - and wagging fingers - before he got on with his real purpose?

Although, nobody could accuse Mutumbo of playing without passion. The finger wave. The iconic celebration after defeating the SuperSonics with an eighth-seeded Denver Nuggets. Mutumbo wove himself into the fabric of basketball culture just by being himself.

That's what we'll miss the most

Mutumbo was more than a basketball player

Yes, Mutumbo's charity work is endlessly deserving of praise. On a deeper level, that's not the biggest loss here.

That would be Mutumbo himself. His smile. His infectious energy. If you're a guy my age who loves basketball, and you're not a Sonics fan:

You loved Dikembe Mutumbo.

How could you not? Mutumbo was a joy to watch. There was something in his mere presence that illuminated your TV screen. He was larger than life. Mutumbo was 7'2", but he might as well have been 30 feet tall.

A gentle giant. Mutumbo wasn't one to take a loss lightly, but he wasn't a sore loser. Tragically, he lost his fight with brain cancer at 58.

We're sure he fought. We know Mutumbo was wagging that legendary finger in the face of his fate, taunting it.

Maybe the fight isn't over yet.

Young NBA players could take a page out of Mutumbo's book. Basketball is a means to an end. It's what you do after basketball that matters. Fight poverty, fight injustice - if you want, fight cancer. Mutumbo may be gone, but his inspiration should live for generations.

It will hopefully lead me to write a happier article someday.