Few in the sporting world have that almost indefinable quality: majesty.
It's the combination of overwhelming superiority in play, a style that sets one apart, extended time at the top and a natural dignity or character off the field. Muhammad Ali, Michael Jordan, Don Bradman, Dan Carter, Richard Hadlee, Dennis Lillee, Irene van Dyk, Jack Nicklaus, David Campese, George Best, Steffi Graf, Michael Schumacher, Roger Federer, Richie McCaw, Martina Navratilova, Mark Spitz, Nadia Comaneci, Colin Meads, Bjorn Borg ... you get the idea.
Add Sir Peter Snell, who this week celebrated the 50th anniversary of that remarkable 800m-1500m gold medal double at the 1964 Tokyo Olympics - still probably the finest achievement, in a single Games, of any New Zealander.
David Leggat's review of Snell's triumph in the New Zealand Herald this week sparked a dormant childhood memory of seeing Snell majestically break the world record for 1000m at Western Springs an ice age ago. He seemed like a giant to a small boy, rippling thigh muscles and a Rolls Royce stride. The roar of the crowd was that same small boy's first exposure to naked nationalism bursting from the throats of Snell's countrymen.
It was also an introduction to sporting majesty. Snell, an inherently modest man, owned that stadium, the country - and the middle distance world. Not with the arrogant, look-at-me, chest-thumping clamour so prevalent among modern sporting stars keen to break through the clutter and do the job for their sponsors, but with that confluence of superiority, style and grace.