Mohegan — It would be an otherwise inconspicuous concrete wall, except for what’s written on it: Autographs of virtually every musical act and athlete to play Mohegan Sun Arena. You know the deal: Springsteen, Buffett, the Eagles … pick a headliner. That’s why first-timers to the wall just outside the tunnel rarely let the moment pass without mouths agape and iPhones iPhoning.

This would be quite the legacy to leave. You are the guy whose vision brought the world to Uncasville, Conn. Think about that one for a second. The world comes to Uncasville. And it’s because of Mitchell Etess.

But that’s not the man’s legacy.

His legacy, too, wouldn’t be shabby if he owned the title, “brought major professional sports back to Connecticut.” Seven years after the Whalers left, Etess’ persistence delivered the Connecticut Sun, a member of the WNBA, the country’s biggest stage for female professional athletes.

But that’s not it either.

Nah. It’s much simpler: Mitchell Etess, the face, voice, conscience and biggest fan of Mohegan Sun, did Herculean work here as a damn nice guy. Somewhere in our anonymous society of lost manners, the words “do unto others” still resonate. That’s Mitch. There is no finer man in his particular vocation.

Think about the stereotype of the corporate CEO, the person heading a multi-million dollar monolith. A cross between Gordon Gekko and Thurston Howell III, right? Not Etess. If you didn’t know he was The Man at Mohegan, you’d have him pegged as the guy next door. Affable, unassuming, earnest.

We learned a lot about Etess this week in Brian Hallenbeck’s magnificent story in The Day about Etess’ impending retirement. Etess will miss his beloved Sun’s preseason game tonight to be presented the Chamber of Commerce of Eastern Connecticut’s 2015 Citizen of the Year Award. Those of us otherwise occupied can raise a glass now.

And yet he’s so much more than Citizen of the Year. I believe Etess is the single most influential person in the history of Connecticut sports and entertainment.

Yes: The Celtics, Whalers and a million concerts have played Hartford.

Yes: Foxwoods got a few biggies before Mohegan Sun existed.

But the Sun — specifically the 10,000 seat arena the Mohegan Tribe had the foresight to build — has become the home office. They all come here now. To Uncasville. Fancy that particular thought 25 years ago. And it was Etess who began his time here in charge of sports and entertainment. They’re still coming here all these years later. The concrete wall says so.

And when they come here, they’re in lockstep agreement: Dang, that Mitchell is a nice guy. He really runs this behemoth? You mean there are people left in his position who talk to people and do things for people who can’t really do anything in return?

He teaches us a great lesson. People are going to think what they want about you. But when they meet you, nice counts.

It’s been a privilege celebrating and commiserating with him after many wins and losses. Maybe the happiest I ever saw him was Feb. 25, 2005, the night his daughter, Maxie, and the rest of the Old Lyme High girls’ basketball team finally defeated nemesis Morgan to win the Shoreline Conference title.

Don Bugbee, Old Lyme’s terrific coach, snipped the final glorious snip of the net. Maxie cradled the trophy as if her first born. And the look on Mitchell Etess’ face was complete euphoria. (It should be noted that Etess was in charge of the scorebook back in those days to keep him from assassinating the referees).

And his facial expressions at Sun games, watching them from the tunnel with vice president and general manager Chris Sienko: Think credit card commercial. Priceless.

Etess is on record saying he’ll retire sometime in the fall. Selfishly, I hope he stays on as president and CEO of the basketball team. He has been the Connecticut Sun’s biggest fan and WNBA’s greatest advocate. The league needs him. We all need him.

Otherwise, here’s hoping the night with the Chamber of Commerce goes splendidly. And a happy retirement to the man who personifies of one of Mark Twain’s best lines: “Kindness is a language the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro.

Twitter: @BCgenius