Rest in peace, Mario Danelo.

(Credit AP/Matt Sayles)

In no way am I going to pretend that I was Mario's best friend, or that I knew him better than many of us, but I wanted to take a minute to share some of my memories of Mario.

The first day I met Mario, I remember thinking, "Who the hell is #19?" My friend Carlo Godoy and I walked over and introduced ourselves to an at-the-time quiet guy who introduced himself as just "Mario," no ego, no attitude behind it. Apparently, he was going to be a kicker and his dad was allegedly a kicker in the NFL. Regardless, we walked away after a little small talk and I remember us agreeing, "Seems like a pretty good guy..." Little did we know that this "#19" would become the NCAA record holder for number of PATs attempted and made in a season. Little did we know what a good, high character guy he would become, and what a great example of a NCAA athlete he would be throughout his time at USC.

Mario came to USC as a walk-on. At USC, what that means is that you might have been recruited, but you're still paying for school, your dinner, books, and you're likely sharing a locker with other players. It takes a lot of character to be a walk-on at USC, where the student managers are often treated with more benefits than the walk-on's, but Mario was one of those high-character guys who never had a chip on his shoulder about it. I have no doubt he had every opportunity to go to another NCAA school on a full scholarship, but he decided to come to USC and earn a scholarship.

After nearly beating our former USC kicker Ryan Killeen, Mario almost earned not only a scholarship, but nearly earned a starting spot at the same time. I remember congratulating him when I read the news that he was being awarded with a scholarship. I remember the fun we would have together when practicing fake field goals, where punter Tom Malone would fire away nearly impossible to catch passes at myself and a couple other managers, and we would all laugh about it - after pretending to take the drill way too seriously. I remember standing beneath the goal post either after practice or while other drills were going on and raising my arms to signal that Mario had made the kick he was trying from nearly 50 yards out and him always thanking me for spending the extra time with him so he could make sure he made that last kick before he ran to the locker room after practice.

I remember the practical jokes the special teams guys would play with one another. I remember how for 3 years, my job on game days was to be Will Collins' (our long snapper) good luck charm. We would warm up Will's arm, get him a few practice snaps for field goals and punts, and then Will would have me run patterns all over the Coliseum (or whatever stadium we were at) field. When Mario came out, it was my job to make sure Will had the best special teams ball available so Mario could make that first field goal as he was warming up. We'd run up and down the field together in pre-games as Mario drilled kick after kick, even in the face of taunting fans. I remember during practices, when Mario wanted to warm up doing kickoffs and none of the returners were stretched and ready to receive the kicks, he'd always thank me and laugh at my enthusiasm as I ran 50 yards down the field to field his kicks, juking and faking imaginary defenders for a few yards before I hurled the ball back to him. Mario was one of those guys who never gave any of us managers a hard time. He had a scholarship. He was a record-breaking NCAA athlete, but he was always humble and always the same guy.

Outside of the field, Mario knew how to have a good time. Every now and then, we'd run into each other out on the Row and even one night, I shared a Campus Cruiser ride with all the Special Teams guys on a late night. Every time, Mario would have that ever-present (someone called it his "Kool-aid smile") smile on his face and no matter where we were or who was around, we'd be friends. It doesn't sound like a big deal, but it was always appreciated. Mario was always a player that we could come to and ask to sit next to on the bus to the hotel, or ask him about what the practice schedule was going to be for the week. He was never too good to answer or too "busy" to listen. He was Mario, and that never changed in any situation. He worked hard at practice, the weight room (Mario nearly doubled in size since coming to USC) and had fun off the field as well. He was a humble guy, a good person, and after spending 5 days a week with him for 3 years of my college life, he is missed and will continue to be missed.

Perhaps the best story I have of Mario is when I was collecting the whole team's autographs at the end of the season at our hotel in Miami. Mario had been on an absolute tear and was regarded as one of the country's most dependable kickers by the end of the year. I brought my ball to Mario, which had already been signed by a bunch of guys and asked him if he could sign it for me. Mario, then our starting kicker, looked at me and asked "Are you sure you want me to sign it?" I told him of course, that I wanted everyone to sign it. And Mario, obviously not accustomed to signing as many autographs as the Matt Leinarts and Reggie Bushes of the world, smiled, signed my ball, and thanked me for letting him sign it.

Rest in Peace, Mario. You are missed.