Returning from New Hampshire with friends on Saturday evening, I listened to Jack Leaman call his final game.

Speaking in his trademark gravely voice with that seasoned tone that always made you think he had marbles in his mouth, the ol’ coach was in his element in the hours prior to his passing.

Leaman was cursing Richmond star Mike Skrocki’s shooting ability, praising UMass coach Steve Lappas for protecting young Rashaun Freeman from picking up his fifth foul and light-heartedly commenting on how the Minutemen were lucky to have Spider guard Reggie Brown leave the game with an injury after playing well all afternoon. He maintained the on-air combination that has allowed him to become a top-notch color analyst in his 10-plus years on the job: that of unparalleled basketball insight and a burning love for everything UMass.

The Minutemen eventually fell to the Spiders 69-65, to conclude what has been an extremely disappointing season. Nonetheless, Leaman, always the optimist when it came to his beloved Minutemen, preached about what a great time he had watching this young team grow during the season and, that while fans were calling for Lappas’ head, he wouldn’t be surprised if it snuck up on the rest of the Atlantic 10 in the post-season tournament and won a few games.

It was, without a doubt, classic Leaman.

In 40-plus years of involvement with the University of Massachusetts, there has never been an individual more dedicated and passionate about the school’s athletic department than Jack Leaman. The university’s all-time winningest basketball coach, Leaman’s devotion to UMass extends well past his days behind the bench and well into what he called his “retirement.”

UMass athletics exists as it does today because of Jack Leaman. He lifted the men’s basketball program from the doldrums of ineptitude to eight Yankee Conference titles in nine years while making Julius Erving “Dr. J” and helping both Al Skinner and Rick Pitino become award-winning players, and then coaches.

Since then, his rock-solid support of Minuteman athletics as a whole never waned. When he wasn’t broadcasting games or on the road, you could almost always find Leaman at the Mullins Center, perched behind the south goal watching over the Mass Attack or on press row examining the Minutewomen, or spending his Saturday afternoons in the McGuirk Alumni Stadium press box watching the gridiron intently while soaking up the atmosphere he loved.

Even for those outside the UMass athletic family, Leaman’s refreshing personable nature engulfed him. A commanding figure with a reverberating smile, those who made a point to say “Hi coach” when he passed were guaranteed a “hello” and a pat on the back if he was in a hurry – whether he recognized your face or not – and a fully-engrossed conversation about anything from hoops to your academic workload if he wasn’t.

As an aspiring journalist, I loved talking to Coach Leaman because he always viewed me as a legitimate writer, yet recognized that I was still just learning.

The first time I ever asked him for his general thoughts on a matter, he looked at me, told me to shut off my tape recorder, smiled and said:

“You’re going to have to ask me a more specific question than that, son. I’ve got a lot of thoughts and a lot of time, and it’s your job to avoid having to sit here with me all night, because I don’t mind.”

In a nutshell, that was Jack Leaman. He accomplished enough in his 71 years on this earth to earn legend’s status, and if he chose to he could have easily gotten away with being arrogant and distant. Instead, he was gracious, forthcoming and personable – always willing to go the extra minute or the extra mile to make sure whatever you came to do that involved him was done right and done well.

Coach Leaman will never truly be recognized for all that he brought to UMass athletics, because it is immeasurable. A father and grandfather figure to so many men and women over the years, his absence will sting painfully for those, including myself, who were so used to seeing him arrive at Mullins or McGuirk or the Cage with his usual stroll and overflowing brown briefcase.

So as UMass Nation mourns its patriarch, it is time to honor Jack Leaman in a way that would have made him smile from ear-to-ear, and burst from his sweater vest with pride. It is time to make ol’ coach’s name ring true for generations of UMass fans that will never be able to truly appreciate how influential he truly was to a program he dedicated a lifetime’s worth of hard work.

It’s time to name the Mullins Center hardwood “Jack Leaman Court.”

Mike Marzelli is a Collegian columnist. He can be reached at [email protected].