Ronnie O'Sullivan doesn't just transcend snooker. His name travels far beyond sport too. This is a bonafide celebrity of the age.
To be up close to O'Sullivan in the last three decades - reporting on his remarkable deeds - has been one of the great privileges.
When you're beside the table and O'Sullivan is properly on song, he can almost take you into a different realm. He has a hypnotic, compelling presence. In those moments, you can't take your eyes off the man.
Of everything that is special about O'Sullivan, who has now reached his own half century, it is perhaps his longevity that has now become the most impressive aspect of his story.
When O'Sullivan turned professional in 1992, John Major was Prime Minister and George Bush (the Herbert Walker one) was in the White House. Alex Ferguson hadn't yet won the league title as Manchester United manager. Ian Botham was still playing Test cricket for England. We're not talking the week before last here.
From the moment that he burst into public consciousness when winning the UK Championship title at the age of 17, O'Sullivan has captivated the sporting public. And 33 years on, amazingly, here Ronnie still is. Not just surviving, but often thriving.
It's true that we see less of his top level genius these days, but remember it was only in August that he produced one of snooker's truly outrageous moments in Saudi Arabia - two maximum breaks in a single session.
A few months ago, I saw an online poll asking readers for what they regarded as O'Sullivan's greatest achievement.
To see all his major feats written down in one place brought home quite how astonishing his career has been.
For the record, I could have happily gone with four or five of O'Sullivan's achievements as my No.1 - not least the maximum break in five minutes - but after some reflection I voted for the Essex man winning the 2013 world title after taking the 2012-13 season off.
I still don't think any single moment has better encapsulated the outrageous talents of O'Sullivan. Swanning back into the sport and picking up the biggest prize of all. The audacity of it stuns me even now.
The classic O'Sullivan image of more recent times is that embrace with Judd Trump after winning his record-equalling seventh world title at the Crucible in 2022.
I was convinced O'Sullivan was the greatest in this sport long before that, but this was an effective rubberstamping of that status.
Of course, he still has time to win an eighth world title. But I personally don't see it as necessary. In fact, I don't mind at all if the history books of the future record that Stephen Hendry - that incredible dominant force of the 1990s - and O'Sullivan are level on seven Crucible titles each.
It's worth remembering that Hendry retired at the age of 43 (let's please discount his absurd comeback here) because he felt he couldn't win big again.
O'Sullivan will be among the frontrunners come the Sheffield marathon in the spring at the age of 50. I see no reason why that won't be the case for a fair few more years to come too.
It wouldn't feel appropriate or indeed truthful to write a reflective piece like this without acknowledging that O'Sullivan has been a right royal pain at times.
Whether it's assaulting a tournament press officer, making lewd gestures during press conferences, or just walking out of a match before it's finished, O'Sullivan has often been a law unto himself and a menace for authorities to try and temper.
Some of his excesses, although by no means all, can possibly be excused when you consider some of the savage personal blows O'Sullivan has suffered over the years and his significant mental health issues.
That said, he hasn't always been as considerate to the mental health of others as the snooker world has generally been to his.
Even lately, some of his behaviour has been beyond the pale. O'Sullivan has twice tried to undermine referees during big matches at the Crucible - on one occasion in a world final - and with a degree of aggression that has done neither him nor the sport any favours.
His words are often spoken without due care. Even last week, his comments about him retiring if he didn't play in China and Saudi Arabia were hardly tasteful.
So O'Sullivan has at times let himself down. But I don't think that should top the headlines when it comes to his life and career either.
There's a different, far softer side to O'Sullivan. I've seen his kindness first hand on numerous occasions. Sometimes, I've benefitted from it actually. He can be considerate and gentle. And for a person more entitled to be arrogant than most, he is pretty humble, often playing his considerable achievements down.
Plus, let's remember that we are ultimately talking about sport here. And nobody has ever played this one to such an amazingly high level.
Seven world titles. Eight UK crowns. Eight Masters wins. Forty one ranking event successes. His CV is extraordinary.
But ultimately, I don't think it will be the numbers that we remember O'Sullivan by. It will be how he made us feel. He could take even the biggest sporting cynic into a happier dimension with the sheer magnificence of his play.
I'm firmly in the camp that believes snooker will be just fine when O'Sullivan hangs up his cue, but that doesn't mean we won't miss him immensely when he's gone. Of course we will.
Happy 50th birthday, Ronnie. Thank you for the memories.