John Roddick, the blond, brash captain of the Georgia tennis team, walked slowly into the Bulldogs' small clubhouse Thursday. As older men slapped him on the back, apparently trying to buck him up, the rarely soft-spoken star muttered to no one in particular, "That was the hardest thing I've ever done."

Georgia coach Manuel Diaz had hoped that Thursday's memorial service for Rafael Jordan would be a "celebration" of the outgoing, enthusiastic 20-year-old's life. He wanted it to be a happy occasion through which Jordan's friends, fans and teammates could remember him. But Diaz broke up just after he spoke his first words to the crowd gathered at Henry Feild Stadium:

"We have lost a teammate; we have lost a friend; we have lost a son."

Thursday, it was clear the Bulldogs were also without their heart, their source of joy. Their smile. Diaz and the team had a hard time bringing smiles to their faces, but the word kept escaping their lips.

Kevin Sessions, who closed out a successful four-year career under Diaz in the spring, had hoped to return to the stadium under happier circumstances. But as he struggled to hold himself together, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, the first thing he remembered about Jordan was what everyone else remembered: "He always had this huge smile on his face."

That was the kind of person Jordan was. His teammates, Diaz and assistant coach Jack Frierson all offered anecdotes Thursday, attempting to heal themselves while also spreading the emotion most often associated with Jordan, joy, to those who might not have known him as well as they did.

Roddick's story perhaps told the most about Jordan's selfless personality, the inclination to look out for others that remained a trademark until the abrupt end of his life.

Roddick recounted something that happened a few years ago, before he and Jordan were even teammates at Georgia. Roddick's little brother, Andy, was involved in a national tournament in his age group, 12- and 13-year-olds, in Palm Springs, Calif. Jordan was there to watch, and he saw Andy suffer a heartbreaking defeat early in the tournament, sending the young player into a state of depression.

Jordan drove Andy out to the mountains that surround the desert area of Palm Springs, and the kid from Puerto Rico and the kid from Boca Raton went sledding for three or four hours.

"I know to this day, my brother still talks about it," said the elder Roddick. "I want to thank him now for that, because I never did."

"Rafa," as he was known to all, was all but a surrogate son to Diaz, whom he strongly resembled, and a brother to his teammates. His doubles partner, Australian Steven Baldas, spoke of the pain he felt, knowing he would never again join his soulmate from the Caribbean island on the court again.

"Having another year without him, not only as a doubles partner, but as a brother...it's just not right." said Baldas. "I look at the front row out here, and I see my family. I'm a long way from home, and these guys are my family, and one of them's missing."

And Georgia tennis will not be the same without him, especially this season. Diaz said that Jordan's parents had recently flown up from Puerto Rico to visit, and Diaz had shown Jordan's mother her son's newly mounted picture in the Collegiate Tennis Hall of Fame at UGA.

"His parents were so proud," Diaz said. "His mother told me how much Rafa loved this place, how he wanted to stay in Athens after he was done (with school)."

Jordan was a Bulldog. And the Bulldogs were without their heart Thursday. The players will, of course, take the court again. And when they do, Jordan will be with them. He will be a Bulldog forever.

Rafael Jordan was buried in his Georgia tennis uniform.