There'll never be another with the pure talent of Bra Cebo

It's unsurprising that since his death last week, sports broadcaster Cebo Manyaapelo has been revered as a true legend.

Many have spoken of how this larger-than-life character influenced their lives with his unparalleled knowledge of sport, and the art of radio broadcasting.

I can claim to have known Manyaapelo better as an avid listener to his shows on Motsweding FM, than as a colleague in sports reporting.

His passion and commitment inspired some of us to pursue sports journalism.

Manyaapelo was a self-taught broadcaster who didn't require a university degree to perfect the craft. He relied purely on talent.

His live match broadcasts, on the then Radio Mmabatho, would draw you in, painting a picture that made you feel like part of the game - so much so that it became the norm to mute the TV commentary in preference of his on radio.

His strong suit may have been football, but Manyaapelo was well versed in other codes, such as golf, tennis and motor racing.

Manyaapelo meticulously kept statistics of his own personal journey, such as how many Soweto Derbies or finals he covered throughout his career, which began in the 80s. Last year, as Mamelodi Sundowns faced Zamalek in the CAF Champions League first-leg final, he tweeted: "It doesn't get bigger than this, [this is] my 119th cup final."

Some of us don't even know how many cup finals we've covered.

He may have had many outstanding moments in his colourful career but, for me, one stands out. It was on a winter's night of July 1992. South Africa had just been readmitted into the international scene, but there was a big problem. The SABC was not broadcasting the Bafana vs Cameroon game anywhere, radio or TV, due to a protracted strike.

As the then Radio Mmabatho did not fall under the SABC (it was later assimilated into Radio Setswana to form Motsweding FM), Manyaapelo was thankfully at the game, giving it to us live.

He so enjoyed that moment of finding himself alone in the broadcast room that he kept reminding us, as was his wont: "this is the only voice that's giving you this historic game throughout South Africa".

I later, inevitably, crossed paths with Manyaapelo and I don't recall ever having to introduce myself to him. As usual, he had done his homework. It was an honour to not only meet him, but also to contribute occasionally to his sports programme, Mamepe.

Some years ago, while on assignment in Warsaw, Poland, I had the challenge of having to catch an early flight hours after a Bafana match. He offered to keep me company so I didn't oversleep and miss my flight. We went to the pub next to our hotel. What happened there shall remain there.

Rest in peace, bra Cebo. There will never be another one like you!