In memory of the late Dallas Cowboys and BYU receiver Golden Richards.

Golden Richards was finally able to rest.

He was a true superstar, hard to believe he was an athlete.

He died Friday at his home at the age of 73. He lived a wonderful life beyond his wildest dreams. But as Job 5:7 says, “…a man is born into trouble, as a spark flies upwards.”

Most people are like this. That's how Golden lived and died.

My take on the former BYU and Dallas Cowboys receiver and return specialist may differ from many. For me, I wanted to be like him. He wanted to wear the number 22, which means speed. Golden wore that number in college. His name was Golden. Was it so cool? His distinctive blonde hair flowing out from the back of his helmet, white spikes, and his speed were all trademarks.

NFL Films produced a vignette about Golden Richards, a profile of Steve Sabol, capturing key moments of his playmaking with the Cowboys. You can see it here.

Back at Salt Lake City's Granite High, Golden Richards seemed to be part Steve McQueen, part Hercules. He could chase shadows and outrun the rising sun.

Miami Dolphins speedster Mercury Morris wore No. 22. Cowboys speedster Bob Hayes wore No. 22. So when Golden Richards showed up and picked number 22, it would have said to the world, “You can't beat me.” He briefly wore No. 22 and then No. 83 with the Cowboys.

I never wore No. 22 because corneal transplants and contact lenses weren't confused with getting hit or looking over your shoulder for a pass. They often just pop out. I had to quit football my sophomore year at Provo High School. Well, to tell you the truth, I got cut. Instead, I became a sprinter in track and field.

In the spring of 1969, I lined up in the starting blocks to run the 100-yard dash at the Snow College Invitational Track Meet. Two lanes down was Utah's fastest high school athlete, Granite High sensation Golden Boy Richards.

Now, I wasn't a super track star, but my strength was the 100 meters, and the best parts of my races were getting out of the blocks, gaining the lead, and getting my short legs close to giving up. For someone with a gazelle-type stride, it was possible to maintain 50 yards. I got lucky in some races, but they couldn't catch me.

But that day, when the gun went off and I lunged forward, I looked up and the Golden had cornered me by at least three steps. It's over. He was the fastest starter I've ever witnessed in my life.

Golden was the true and rightful owner of number 22 in the flesh.

He went on to win state titles in the 100 meter relay and 4×400 relay. He consistently recorded long jumps of 23 feet, including 25 feet at the Golden West Invitational. He recorded a jump of 23 feet, 6 inches at the state championships, which was just a quarter inch short of the record set by future BYU basketball player Neil Roberts.

Over the next few years, Golden played at BYU and set the record for most punt returns in a game with two TDs. He was so fast that head coach Tommy Hudspeth moved him to defensive back for a few games because he was the only player on the team who could keep up with the ASU and Arizona receivers.

At over 40 yards, Golden may have been the fastest in the world at the time.

One day, I saw Golden coming across from BYU to watch a Provo High School football game. He was a star who was friendly, kind, kind and had an extraordinary personality.

As the years passed and the decades turned into decades, I followed his NFL career and post-retirement life filled with health issues.

Many in this generation like to watch 49ers linebackers Fred Warner, New Orleans' Taysom Hill, and Ballitmore's Kyle Van Noy. Some people were enthusiastic about watching Steve Young play during his time as Super Bowl MVP. But in Utah at the time, you had to watch Golden Richards and Danny White of the Cowboys, two Latter-day Saint boys.

Once Golden arrived in Dallas, he ultimately beat fellow Bob Hayes in the 40-yard dash at the Cowboys' training facility.

I feel better now because Golden Richards beat me in Ephraim. Bob Hayes couldn't beat him for 40 yards in Dallas.

In recent years, Golden's younger brother Sterling has received letters from Cowboys fans asking for Golden's autograph. They didn't forget their star player and his epic TD catch in the Super Bowl against Denver.

A while ago, his nephew Tyler Richards moved into my Orem neighborhood. We started playing golf together as a group of four from our neighborhood. One day, I met Tyler's father, former BYU guard Doug Richards. I had spoken to him several times on the phone while researching the life of teammate and Hall of Famer Kresimir Kosic.

Doug really loves Golden. Shortly before his younger brother passed away, he revealed that he along with his younger brothers, Sterling and Golden's adult sons, had given his blessing to his younger brother, a tribute to a brother and sister whose lives were filled with both stardom and hardship. It was a painfully tender moment that provided comfort, she said.

At the time of Golden's death, he was physically a shell of his former self, battling Parkinson's disease, addiction and multiple surgeries after a hip fracture. He was being cared for in hospice.

Doug wanted to free his brother, who had been bedridden for some time due to declining health. A few hours later, the golden passed by. They were just one year apart and were teammates on the basketball, football, and baseball teams at Granite High School.

The Richards family had a huge front yard, and Doug remembers early days when his father would throw a soccer ball as far as he could and Golden would somehow fly onto the field and catch it. “We knew he was fast, very fast.”

Golden was a devoted brother, son, uncle and father. He was loved by many who met his path. Those who knew him saw his true colors. They witnessed the background that created his complex story as he walked this earth as an athlete and an avid hunter. He was a walking story and a legend.

Golden didn't make a lot of money as an NFL player banker today. His NFL pension was about $2,600 a month, Doug said. “But he also shared that with his sons. He was a loving dad.”

I was on the second hole at St. George Golf Club on Friday morning when Doug called me to tell me that Golden had passed away at 2 a.m. When he hung up, I told the same four men that Golden Richards had passed away.

I told them about the day Golden sucked me and it only took 5 steps to do it.

It was a quiet moment of recognition and respect that something significant had happened.

For me, it was a sobering feeling to see the idol number 22, whom I respected so much, disappear. I remember a time when wearing a letterman jacket and having a driver's license were considered the most important things in life.

Hey, I learned a lot. We both were.

Rest in peace, Golden.

You deserve a precious break from the sun you've been chasing for 73 years.