“Life isn’t a matter of milestones, but of moments,” Rose Kennedy said.

Left to us to decide which is which? I suggest milestones are for quiet reflection, moments are replay-worthy now-and-then.

This week, a bit of self indulgence in moments. Forty years worth.

You may turn the page now, or not.

Reflections on my 40 years in the writing profession were prompted by Frank DeFord’s just arrived autobiography Over Time, My Life as a Sportswriter, and e-mail from a fine Catholic fellow, Mike Giorgio who urged me to put aside modesty awhile and celebrate a little. Presumably, aloud.

Forty years ago this month, I penned my first newspaper column. Don’t remember the subject, but maybe Roberto Clemente.

To run the numbers, permit me a baseball tabulation.

Cal Ripken Jr. played 2,632 consecutive games; Ted Williams had 2,654 hits including a home run in his last at bat; And, Roberto Clemente had 3,000 hits before his untimely demise. An aggregate total of Ripken, Clemente and Teddy Ballgame numbers is roughly the times I’ve met a deadline since 1972 – neighborhood of 6,724 and been paid to do so.

This week, a visit, even summarized, to high and lowlights of four decades would require too much of your time. But we can have a bit of fun with it.

• On one visit to Wrigley Field, a travel companion (native of Sonora, Ky. at the time) attempted to introduce a surprised Chicago mail carrier walking his beat to a mail carrier in our party from Upton, Kentucky with: “Hey,” he said, “Since you carry the mail, maybe you two know each other?”

• In 1999 a lifelong friend and I drove to Boston for baseball’s All-Star game at Fenway Park. My pal got to witness his idol Ted Williams do something the Splendid Splinter had refused to do for all his 19-year career in Beantown, tip his hat to fans. It was a moment.

• Cooperstown, New York. Baseball’s Hall of Fame and the town are spiritual and hallowed places. Among them baseball card displays, some were so precious and pricey I had to leave lest I become nauseous remembering contents of my long ago disappeared card collection.

• Through the years I have been privileged to visit Bear Bryant’s temple in Tuscaloosa where the Bear upbraided me for asking a question.

• Chanced to examine upclose Steve Spurrier’s Heisman Trophy on display in Gainsville.

• Shoot hoops at Basketball Hall of Fame at Springfield, Mass.

• And write about Kentucky Derby winners seated next to twin spires at Churchill Downs.

• Interviews? Forgive the name drops, but some of the best (and technicolored) involved Adolph Rupp, his nemisis Al McGuire, Pat Riley and Shana Alexander, Rick Pitino, PeeWee Reese, a baseball card hero from childhood face-to-face.

• Large personalities along the way: Plato-like John Wooden and wise John Oldham, reticent Kelly Coleman, effusive Bobo Davenport, witty Cal Luther, and man of many colors, Bob Knight.

Alongside Wooden, Rupp, Mike Krzyzewski in Durham and Red Auerbach in Boston and contrary to contrarian opinions, few have meant more to basketball than Hall of Famer Knight. Since he left the sideline the product has slipped deeper into the money pit.

Winsome personalities. My list of most pleasant fellows along the way includes Willie Stargell and Henry Aaron, Mary T. Meagher, Frank Ramsey and Cawood Ledford, Marianne Walker, Tony Kubek and Corky Withrow.

Baseball’s best: Jackie Robinson first, for his still-reverberating impact. But Ted Williams’ proclivity to make hitting a baseball a science, his work of art (.344 lifetime), makes The Kid near the throne he wanted most to occupy – be the best there ever was.

• Football: John Unitas looked like a rodeo cowboy, lacked Joe Namath’s glitz and Joe Montana glam, but down to his black shoes, Johnny U. was the NFL’s Everyman.

• Basketball best? Larry Bird was The Package. Give the man four teammates one basketball and, well, you know.

• Paying homage to a kid’s magic makers, my favorites remain Jerry Harkness-Joe Dan Gold combo, then Johnny Cox, Bob Burrow, Mike Casey, Dan Issel, Larry Pursiful and Anthony Davis.

• Tennis? Chris Evert alone at the top. But, Charles Robert ‘Chuck’ McKinley rose to his right-place-at-right-time place – Wimbledon singles champion in 1963.

• Golf? Kenny Perry has pocketed more than $30 million in career earnings. Never mind The Masters.

• Best in any sport? Roberto Clemente.

The Great One, Pirates voice Bob Prince called Clemente, was all that on field and off.

Prime quality that made Clemente and Bird a cut above?

• Best writers I’ve read along the way? In their era Ring Lardner and Red Smith were clearly ahead of their contemporaries in elegance, eloquence to make sports less about games and more about people.

So, 6,724 visits to this space. Best part by a mile has been and remains the honor and privilege to write something, anything, that brings a provocation of thought to you, or, a moment of joy, a chuckle, perhaps even “gee, I didn’t know that.”

Forty years. Thank you.

And so it goes.