It was incredibly easy to like Jack Leaman.

He was everywhere: men’s basketball, women’s basketball, hockey, anywhere a UMass athlete was competing. If the Mullins Center was rocking, and men’s hoop wasn’t somewhere on the road, Jack was there, with a smile, a conversation, and his warm presence.

Everyone knew Jack. And in his own way, he knew everybody. Jack probably never knew my name. And that doesn’t matter, because every time I came up to him, he put his two big hands around mine, in that huge, enveloping handshake of his. He’d pat you on the shoulder, ask you how you were doing, and then launch into a conversation about UMass sports. And, for practical reasons, you didn’t even have to be there. Jack could carry on a conversation all by himself. But you wanted to be there, and he wanted you to be there, and you knew it every second.

Jack loved people. He loved talking to people, he loved being around people, he loved making people feel good. He was the loudest voice in the Mullins Center’s green room, where the media types meet and eat before games, but it wasn’t because he was brash. It was because he held court. He moved around like a politician, talking to everyone and anyone. He paced the floors at women’s basketball game, stopping to say hi to all the people he knew. For some, that would only take a few minutes. For Jack, well, it’s amazing he saw the game at all.

The first time you met Jack, he seemed like one of those gentle giant types, the kind that really don’t understand what’s going on, but keep a smile on anyway. But that wasn’t Jack. He had that big grin because he enjoyed every minute of life. He drank life up, in ways we all wish we could. Meanwhile, he was as sharp as a tack. Quick-witted, always good for a joke, and able to really understand what was going on no matter what the sport was, Jack might have seemed simple, but there was plenty going on up there.

My first experience with Jack Leaman was hearing him on the radio. And my first thought, I’m embarrassed to admit, was “wow, this guy’s such a homer, why can’t he just analyze the game?” And then I realized, thanks to more time and experience here, that Jack spoke on the radio like the Minutemen’s coach, because in many ways, he still was. He still helped out the team, he still offered advice, and it wasn’t limited to the men, either.

Jack was Marnie Dacko’s right-hand man through thick and thin, and as one of the reporters assigned to cover the Minutewomen last year, it was easy to see how much he meant to Marnie and her team. And with no disrespect intended to Jack’s daughter, Laura, the relationship that Jack had with Marnie certainly showed shades of a proud father watching his daughter at work.

While Jack would never have been mistaken for a hockey guy, he was still at every game that didn’t conflict with men’s hoops, sharing a few laughs, watching the game from his seat in section N, right on the aisle. Even though the conversation usually turned to basketball, Jack was a presence before hockey games. From the lowliest beat writer, to the highest-ranking officials, Jack treated everyone with the same great respect.

Everyone who was able to experience even a moment with Jack has been blessed. And there are more of you than you think. From the folks that listened to him coach and analyze on the radio, to those who were around when he was officially the Minutemen’s coach, to the 4,630 who got to see Jack help raise Al Skinner’s No. 30 to the South Wall a few weeks ago, if you were a UMass student, supporter, or faculty member with any interest in sports, you knew Jack.

Jack Leaman is one of those people who define this university. In a time when athletics is struggling to maintain, when budget woes and campus division makes UMass less than the bright, shining institution we’d all like it to be, Jack has always been a source of inspiration.

Jack was the biggest presence in UMass sports, whether you knew it or not. If you didn’t recognize the face in the picture today, then you didn’t follow the Maroon and White. Yes, Jack coached Dr. J, Skinner, Pitino, and many other greats. Yes, he is UMass basketball’s all-time winningest coach. But that’s not why Jack is so important. Jack Leaman was one of the best and loudest voices for this university. He made sure to uphold the traditions and pride of UMass in everything he did. He made everyone who entered this school feel welcome.

He was UMass’ greatest ambassador, its biggest fan, and its most visible icon. He will be missed by more people than can be counted, from all over the globe. Jack Leaman was UMass, and it is the hope of this writer that this school will always remain a source of pride. That is Leaman’s legacy, and I know that he will always look down on this tiny little corner of the world with that big grin, the one that never left his face, the one that made coming to games at the Mullins Center, or any other athletic event, absolutely worth it. We’re all blessed to be touched by Jack, and I, for one, am eternally grateful that I could call him friend. I hope you are too.

Andrew Merritt is a Collegian columnist. He can be reached at [email protected]