Warren Sapp made it official here the other night. Affirmed that he was hanging up his football pads after a wonderful time in the sport, at Apopka High, with the Bucs and the final curtains at Oakland, just right for goodbye-playing years. Sapp went out in style with a party at just the right place: the Seminole Hard Rock Casino and fun places in east Tampa.

The invitations were scarce, but the moments to remember, especially if you have been a Warren Sapp historian and chronicler these years since he came among us a wonderful football player who kept the game a sport and kept it fun.

Throughout the years of the Bucs, Sapp was a favorite of mine, surely of yours and most who embraced the team as their own, no matter what the result. It was notable that two of the best-ever Bucs, as players and men were Warren Sapp and safety John Lynch, were released at the same time, too early. They were so good and they were so smart.

But this is a reminder — there will be fewer and fewer — of Warren Sapp and his take-charge days as a Buc, as a defensive lineman of such abilities, and a tormentor of quarterback Brett Farve of Green Bay. Will anyone forget the countless times Sapp broke cleanly through the Green Bay front and cornered Farve alone in the backfield? Will anyone forget the big deal he made of it, too, the antics, the demonstrations, the dancing, and the skipping?

Skipping, that was a Sapp specialty. He loved to come out at a game ahead of time and skip all over the field, noticeably among the opponents trying to warm up. It was fun for Sapp, fun for his fans. He’d wave his arms in encouragement to fans, until officials said no more.

That stopped, Sapp would run the pre-game sidelines in support of his Bucs. He was a showman, a cheerleader, a needle in the gut of the enemy team throughout. He loved Buc fans and wanted them to help his team win.

In Buc locker rooms, there was no better interview than Warren Sapp, particularly after a loss. Anyone can handle a win. Team effort, that’s what it was. A loss, well, Sapp would cite the reasons, the fumbles, the other turnovers, the plays called, or not called. He’d single me out: “Come here, little fellow. We lost and I’ll tell you why.” And he would.

He was original, too.

After a close loss at Seattle, he said, “We’ve mastered how to lose, now we have to master how to win.”

After a win at Oakland, after the Raiders missed a short field goal, Sapp said, “Divine intervention. That’s pretty much what happened. They gift-wrapped it for us.”

And after a third straight win, Sapp said “Even in Florida, it is pretty much the snowball effect. The snow ball is still rolling straight ahead.”

Sapp never wearied of playing the game — not at Apopka, the University of Miami, with the mighty Bucs, or at Oakland.

I’ve watched him through it all, and chronicled most of it.

I can say with certainty Warren Sapp was never closer to moments in heaven than when he had broken free and clear and into Packer backfield and was going to get his solo shot at Brett Farve in the open field. You could almost hear Sapp snorting as he bore down on the luckless, but not helpless all-world quarterback, ball pulled down for a minute, shifted into crouch and not about to let Sapp have his way, so he could tell me and you about it later in the locker room.