Today, we somberly remember one of the greatest baseball players of all time. Yogi Berra, the Yankees catcher for almost 20 years, holder of double-digit World Series rings, and one of the greatest and most humble human beings to ever play the sport, passed away Tuesday night in West Caldwell, New Jersey at the age of 90.

Lawrence Peter Berra is considered one of the greatest, if not the greatest, catcher of all time. His career average of .285 and 358 homers rank near the top in history at his position, one that is consistently considered the most grueling and demanding in baseball. Not only was he a force at the plate, he was one of the most durable backstops in baseball history, despite all of the wear and tear on his knees. Berra led the American League in games caught 8 times and 8 times in putouts by a catcher, as well as numerous other defensive categories. He was known to handle his pitching staff well, and even caught the only perfect game in postseason history in 1956. He was an 18-time All Star in 19 seasons (most by a catcher ever), a 3-time MVP (most by a catcher ever), and won 13 World Series titles: 10 as a player and 3 as a coach.

I could go on and on about his modest beginnings from an Italian neighborhood in St. Louis to his meteoric rise through the minor leagues, but Yogi Berra transcends that. His statistics are legendary, but what his rapport with others and what he did in the clubhouse and off the field are what makes him the American icon that he is.

Berra loved people. As his career progressed, he honed his special craft of storytelling. By all accounts, when he spoke, whether it was about baseball or about life, everyone listened. He had a magical aura about him that he carried with him throughout his 40+ year career in baseball. That aura attracted the attention of everyone near him, giving him the feeling of a sort of sage later in his career and well after he retired. Berra told stories of conversations at the plate with Hank Aaron, then helped out Jorge Posada during Spring Training. He played against legends like Stan Musial and coached and mentored players like Craig Biggio and Derek Jeter. He transcended generations, making players, fans, media, and coaches of all ages feel like they can relate to him.

Most importantly, Yogi Berra was one of us. He didn’t have a superiority complex about him like many superstars of his day did (and many today as well). He was of average height, standing at about 5’8″, and didn’t come from a privileged family. He is a true definition of the American work ethic; Berra wasn’t blessed with great size or strength, but he used the natural tools he did have to his advantage to give himself the opportunity for success. His reputation as a great “bad-ball hitter,” hitting pitches well out of the strike zone, is emblematic of the kind of life he lived. Berra didn’t care if it was over his head, if he could reach it, he wanted to hit it, plain and simple.

Of course, his “Yogi-isms” are what he will be most remembered for. Many call him the “Dumbest Wise Man in History,” but I take it differently. Berra did not try to disguise himself under a shroud of fake ingenuity like many athletes do. When he said some of those famous quotes, he meant them, and he didn’t try to disguise or cover up his malapropisms with circular explanations. Berra’s naiveté brought these sayings to life and his genuine character allowed them to stay.

Death is never an easy thing, especially in sports where a single person can effect the lives of thousands of people. Yogi Berra’s passing, though, is a reminder that it is a very real thing for the legends of our nation’s pastime. Although he is smiling down now with the likes of Musial, Phil Rizzuto and Don Zimmer, he will forever be immortal in the lore of baseball.