“Surprise me” Yogi Berra told his wife when she asked him where he’d like to be buried. How wonderful it would be if the choice turns out to be the home town of the Yankees who handed him up to glory. Or was it the other way around? Berra was a member of the 1961 Yankees, a contender for the greatest team since Major General Doubleday’s epiphany in the cow pasture at Cooperstown. Berra was 18 times an Allstar and 13 times a World Series champion. He caught Don Larsen’s pitching (and raced out to hug him) in the only game in the history of the World Series that was perfect.

That might have been enough to make Lawrence Peter Berra one of the most beloved figures in all of sport, but it is only part of the story. Starting with his way with words. His obituary was still crossing the newswires when Americans, no doubt by the millions, started reminding one another of their favorite Yogi-isms. It’s no small thing for any person to have his sayings enter the national argot, as Berra did with such lines as “It ain’t over ’til it’s over” and “It’s déjà vu all over again.” Our own favorite is his answer when he was asked “What time is it?” and replied: “You mean, right now?”

And then there was his character. Yogi Berra had a modesty — and physique — that endeared him to Everyfan. He was a role model with few peers. During World War II, he interrupted his baseball career to serve in the United States Navy, and was a gunner’s mate aboard United States Ship Bayfield during the Normandy Invasion. He boycotted Yankee Stadium after the team’s owner, George Steinbrenner, sent an intermediary to fire him as manager. His show of principle led Steinbrenner to express his regrets, calling he failure to confront Berra personally the greatest mistake of his career.

Berra also set an example of character with his 66-year marriage to Carmen and with their family. We wouldn’t want to make too much of this; there are a lot of wonderful people in baseball. But with the fast-living and impermanent romances that mark so much of American sport today, Berra was a standout. If we don’t yet know where he will be buried (Montclair, near the Berra Museum, St. Louis, where he came from, or New York?), we’re confident he’s not going to Hell. It’s not just his virtue. As he once said in another context: “Nobody ever goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”