URBANA — It's too bad that not everyone had the chance to know John Gremer. He was that exceptional, that unforgettable, that much a character.

John died last week after a long and difficult illness that probably would have been shorter and more trying were it not for his lovely, strong and dedicated wife, Norma. They were a great couple, absolutely complementary. Norma made John an even better man than he was, and John made Norma laugh.

I didn't really know John that well, having the good fortune to meet him only because we went to the same church and he was our two sons' driver's-ed instructor at Urbana High School, one of the dozens of ways people got to know him.

He also was a football, wrestling and baseball coach, a teacher, an expert fisherman, an outdoorsman, an antique collector and fixer, a Marine, a former Fighting Illini football player, a devout Catholic and an Urbana townie, even if he didn't meet the sticklers' demand that you have to be born in Urbana. If Gremer wasn't a townie, no one is.

John also was a Cubs fan, which makes his death even sadder because not only did he never get to see those clowns win a World Series but his last months were spent watching this year's stunningly miserable team. I fear someone will say the same thing when I die; such is the lot of a Cubs fan.

But that tough old Marine had a good, rich life, as the long list of friends and the people he touched will attest.

And there are the stories. At church Sunday, friends talked about the annual fishing trips John took to Canada every June with an ever-evolving group of friends, starting out with legendary Urbana football coach Warren Smith and his staff and ending with some of the kids and grandkids of those pioneers.

Let's just say that as good a fisherman as John was, those trips often weren't without problems. Some were earned, some were just bad luck, some were because people hundreds of miles away got even and played a trick on John, perhaps swiping his best lure.

I remember him entertaining a group of us with tales of how he played at Illinois against Penn State when the Nittany Lions had the great Rosey Grier, later a member of the Los Angeles Rams' "Fearsome Foursome." John held his own against Grier, back in the days when most players went both ways, playing offense and defense. John played in the North-South all-star game in 1959, and got a tryout with the all-new American Football League's Boston Patriots in 1960.

He didn't make it in the pros, which is a blessing for all of us who otherwise never would have learned football or wrestling or driver's ed or health from him or enjoyed his stories or his gruff but gracious style.

Once I had the pleasure of introducing Big John to my father, another Big John who also had played football. To me they even looked the same, big and bald and hobbling around on bad knees and hips. Even recently, as a frailer John Gremer toughed it out and was able to come to Mass on Sundays, he'd stop me and ask, "How's your father, Tommy?" That's how thoughtful he was.

My fondest memories of John are from the days after he retired, when he would serve Mass at funerals or Saturday mornings, filling the humble role that 10-year-old kids perform on Sundays. And if he wasn't serving Mass, he would make it a point during the celebration to offer a personal prayer aloud for the servicemen and women all over the world protecting the United States of America.

John Gremer was a good man. I'm sure he had flaws and shortcomings, but he was a humble servant who left a lot of memories and a lot of friends.