The International Olympic Committee (IOC) may not realise it, but they owe an immense debt to David Coleman.

For it was the BBC's master of the microphone who brought the Games to life for millions through three decades, humanising the athletes, interpreting the intricacies of the sports and vividly conveying the true joys of Olympism.

Coleman, who died at the weekend aged 87, cut his teeth on the Olympics, covering 11, vividly capturing the essence of them all from Rome 1960 to Sydney 2000.

Great is the most overworked word in the sporting lexicon, but Coleman was truly that, a colossus of the commentary box who bestrode his profession with a consummate expertise unlikely ever to be replicated.

As a commentator and presenter, he cut his teeth on the Olympics, whose disciplines - notably athletics as a former keen middle distance runner for Stockport Harriers - he appreciated far more than football, which he had also played at a decent amateur level.

Of the Games he covered, Munich 1972 was his finest hour - though actually it was several hours, a marathon stint from dawn to dusk at the microphone during which he so professionally reported the tragic events of that Black September day as they unfolded from a shocking dawn in the Athletes' Village to a dramatic dusk and the massacre at Fürstenfeldbruck airfield.

"The Olympic Games stand still," he intoned. "The flags in the stadium at half-mast, the citizens of Munich, the thousands of competitors and officials bewildered and appalled."

No-one said it better.

Working from scant information and a closed circuit television monitor, he held together the coverage of those unfolding horrors as Palestinian terrorists held hostage, and then killed a group of Israeli athletes.

It was a supreme example of broadcasting at its best, illustrating that here was no mere sports hack but an experienced journalist of the highest calibre.

David Coleman's commentary of David Hemery's victory in the 400 metres hurdles at the Mexico City Olympics in 1968 has entered in folklore ©Allsport

But even Homer occasionally nodded. In 1968, at the Mexico Olympics, Coleman was recorded at 200 words per minute while commentating on Davbid Hemery's win in the 400 metres hurdles. After the finish he could only identify the first two and famously exclaimed: "Who cares who's third?" The bronze medal winner turned out to be another Briton, John Sherwood.

Regrettably, thanks to the latter-day policies of the BBC, ITV, Sky and now BT in turning from the pros to the pundits, preferring to employ current or former sports personalities as front men and women, we have no longer see or hear the likes of David Coleman.

Some, like Gary Lineker, Gary Neville, Michael Atherton, John McEnroe, Steve Cram, Sue Barker and Gabby Logan are good, as was Cliff Morgan; the majority range from the mediocre to the downright embarrassing.

Not least the legion of blonde bimbos who mouth words off the Sky autocue while giving the impression they haven't a clue what they actually mean.

They may have a passion for something, but it certainly isn't sport.

John Motson, Barry Davies, Des Lynam, Sir Peter O'Sullevan, Frank Bough, and Harry Carpenter were DC's accomplished contemporaries; Jim Rosental, John Rawling, Mike Costello and a handful of other well-trained journos among his respected disciples, but alas these are a dying breed.

This is the age of pseudo-intellectual celebrtity in the commentary box; of tyros on the touchline and in the studio.

What chance a young journalist like David Coleman being given the opportunity to become a top athletics commentator by the BBC today? ©BBC

These days the BBC probably would hire a David James rather than a David Coleman. Come to think of it, BT actually have.

It is true that Coleman was something of a martinet. Many perfectionists are. Some colleagues found him rude, abusive and difficult to work with. But, as the former BBC head of sport Jonathan Martin, himself more than once the object of a loud and fruity Coleman tirade said, that was because his standards were so high.

Yet the father-of-six could also be generously supportive of young talent and was always a marvellous and amusing travelling companion. Especially if those sitting alongside him on long haul flights liked a drink as much he did.

His vowels have best been described as classless, framed as they were in his native Cheshire, where he was a grammar school boy who learned his journalistic craft on local newspapers, rising to become a young editor.

It was this incomparable newspaper background which taught him the value of research and fact-checking.

He joined the BBC in Birmingham in 1954 as a news assistant and made his TV debut on Sportsview on May 6, 1954, the day Roger Bannister broke the four-minute mile.

During more than 40 years in broadcasting, he presented a range of top-rated shows, including Match of the Day and Grandstand, as well as fronting coverage of events such as the Grand National and BBC Sports Personality of the Year, and was awarded an OBE in 1992.

Colemanballs - the gaffes and one-liners importalised by the magazine Private Eye became part of his inimitable psyche. Many were legion. These are just a few:

"There you can see her parents- her father died some time ago."

"Don't tell those coming in the final result of that fantastic match, but let's just have another look at Italy's winning goal."

"For those of you watching who do not have television sets, live commentary is on Radio 2."

"That's the fastest time ever run, but it's not as fast as the world record."

"The Republic of China: back in the Olympic Games for the first time."

Colemanballs remains a popular feature in satirical magazine Private Eye to this day ©Amazon

But he is always erroneously credited with one of the best-known. When the Cuban runner Alberto Juantorena "opened his legs and showed his class" it wasn't another Colemanballs but the words of his great friend the late, and also great, Ron Pickering.

Coleman covered six World Cups, his perceptive football commentaries and interviews conducted with a frankness sadly absent from those pundits who worship at its altar today, afraid of upsetting managers, sponsors or TV's own financial interests.

This was how he introduced highlights of the notorious "Battle of Santiago" between Chile and Italy in the 1962 World Cup:

"The most stupid, appalling disgusting and disgraceful exhibition of football possibly in the history of the game.

This the first time the two, countries have met .We hope it will be the last. "

He never shirked the difficult question. What a change from the cap-doffing microphone-thrusters of today timidly enquiring: "How pleased are you with that, Sir Alex?"

"One-nil!" and "Quite remarkable!" are two succinct sporting summaries with which we will always associate him.

David Coleman loved Question of Sport, which he appeared alongside the likes of England cricket and rugby captains Ian Botham and Bill Beaumont ©BBC

For all the historic occasions he covered, Coleman once told me that the most enjoyable phase of hs career was as the chuckling host of A Question of Sport, a role in which could relax and have fun.

This came after his final Olympics in Sydney, when he was clearly past his best. "But he was still better than anyone else," recalled one of his colleagues.

We have not heard His Master's Voice of sport for some years because a crippling illness confined much of his retirement to a wheelchair.

Towards the end, he was something of a recluse.

Despite his demanding demeanour he was not a vain man and made it clear he never wanted any fuss. He surely would have hated all the plaudits that have been penned or spoken about him these past few days,including this tribute from Lord Coe: "He was so incomparably better than anyone else. He brought cutting-edge journalism and gave some of the top administrators in sport a right going over, being brave in the way he did it."

If the IOC, like boxing, had a Hall of Fame with a media section, David Coleman certainly would be right up there on the rostrum, gold medal around his neck.

Simply the best.

And quite remarkable.

Alan Hubbard is a sports columnist for the The Independent on Sunday, and a former sports editor of The Observer. He has covered a total of 16 Summer and Winter Games, 10 Commonwealth Games