Near the end of a painfully long day, 9-year-old Christian Lundy asked me who would write the story about his father's death.

"Steve Ahillen," I told him.

"Will you write something?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I'm too upset."

I have suffered many losses through the years, but most of them have come with a warning. Age was a factor. Or there had been an extended illness.

Gary Lundy was 49. He was healthy enough to throw a football Saturday with his nephew and healthy enough to write a column Sunday night.

The next morning, he drove to work, walked into the office and suffered a massive heart attack.

I was sitting in the hospital waiting room with Gary's wife, Cindy, and friends when a nurse came in and told us compassionately but firmly "to prepare for the worst." That's a hospital's version of a two-minute warning.

So I was too upset to write. Upset that I had lost a friend. Upset that Cindy had lost her husband. Upset that Christian had lost his father.

I looked at Cindy and imagined how my mother felt when her husband and my father died of a heart attack. I was 2 years old, too young to comprehend the tragedy of that moment. Christian will be 10 Saturday, and often seems wise beyond his years.

I spent the early part of the afternoon alternately grieving Gary's loss and wondering what I could possibly say to Christian.

But he made it easy for me. He called several hours later and asked who would replace his father on the picks panel.

"No one," I said.

"I can do it," he said.

That was the best moment of an awful day.

I won't write too much about how well Christian has handled the last few days or what a great kid he is, because his father wouldn't want him getting too much publicity. Gary put as much thought into parenting as he did his writing.

His minister, Richard Edwards, reminded us at the funeral how seriously Gary took his religion, family and work. But he also reminded us that Gary didn't take himself seriously at all.

Not only did Gary laugh at himself, he allowed others to laugh at his mishaps and misadventures. Remember the book, "The Accidental Tourist"? Gary could have written "The Accidents of a Tourist."

There was nothing funny about the incidents as they unfolded. The humor came later when Gary - at our prodding - recounted his latest embarrassing or nearly disastrous trip.

While on assignment in San Diego, Gary ventured into Tijuana, Mexico. On his way back, a Mexican border patrolman held up a small bag containing a white powder, which wasn't sugar or salt.

He offered Gary a couple of options: (1) Go to a Tijuana jail for possessing the illegal substance that the twisted arm of the law was about to place in his car; (2) Give the agent all his money.

In one of the smartest decisions of his career, Gary chose option two.

If you're thinking: "What's funny about an American citizen almost being whisked off to a Tijuana jail?" you didn't know Gary.

The thought of Gary negotiating for his freedom with an unscrupulous border patrolman still makes me laugh. So does the thought of Gary fighting with an invisible assailant in a Seattle hotel room.

He woke up in the middle of the night and was on his way to the bathroom when he was struck in the head and knocked down. In this moment of crisis, Gary reasoned quickly and decisively. Obviously someone had broken into his room and attacked him; Gary was ready to fight for his life.

On second thought, maybe he had walked into a cabinet door that extended outward from the television set.

Following the 1997 football season, I assigned Gary to cover the Rose Bowl. By the time he tried to reserve a rental car, the major rental companies were booked up. He settled for a "rent-a-heap" agency near the Los Angeles airport.

Gary was on the freeway for several minutes when he noticed a driver in the adjacent lane waving wildly at him. He thought "carjacker" and immediately pulled off an exit ramp. The driver followed him off the freeway and moved up beside him again.

That's when Gary recognized the rent-a-heap agent, who had placed someone else's luggage in the trunk of Gary's car.

I only worried about Gary getting to and from an event. Once there, he was as good as anyone.

He was at his best on human-interest stories. And as I struggle for the right words, I only wish I could ask - as I did so many times - "Gary, could you help me with this ending?"

But without Gary, there's no good ending.

Sports editor John Adams may be reached at 865-342-6284 or adamsj@knews.com.