In many ways, Jim Leahey was the ultimate local guy. But he impacted people far beyond the islands.
“If you were following the Rainbow Warriors from outside the state, Jim wasn’t just the voice of athletics in the state of Hawaii. He was professional, enthusiastic and always somehow radiated kindness and aloha. Very sad.”
Those are the words of my college roommate, Neal Steinken, who still lives in the Chicago area, where he is from. I have nothing to do with him becoming a UH fan. One reason he did is he’s a night person. Another is Leahey, who died Monday at age 80.
“Very sad. The guy was very special,” added Neal, who started watching UH games via satellite and now streaming when he can find them. “I know you know that, but it’s not just in the state.”
I certainly do. Jim’s voice helped me make two of the best decisions of my life — one of them when I was physically nowhere near Hawaii.
It was actually Jim and Pal Eldredge, the longtime UH baseball TV broadcast pairing. They were Scullyesque in their ability to turn even the late innings of a blowout loss into an enjoyable experience for their audience … without losing track of the game.
“I respected him because he always respected the game,” retired Honolulu Star-Bulletin sports editor and Honolulu Advertiser sports writer Paul Carvalho said of Jim. “A lot of sportscasters get caught up in the talk-show aspect. He would embellish and make it colorful, but it was always in deference to the game.
“I’m envious of his students at Campbell (the high school where Jim taught before becoming a full-time sportscaster). Can you imagine what it must have been like to be in the classroom, with him expounding on whatever the topic of the day was?”
It would have been great. There are plenty of smart people; Jim had the additional gift of making everyone around him smarter.
In early 2000, I was in Florida, and had to choose between returning home for a job at the Star-Bulletin — which was believed to be shutting down very soon — or remaining at the Gainesville Sun, the hometown paper of the University of Florida, where I was promised a promotion to assistant sports editor.
While mulling this on my couch in front of the TV late one night, I found the Gators baseball team’s second game of the season, at what was then still called Rainbow Stadium. (It would be the legendary Les Murakami’s last year as the UH coach, but no one knew that yet.)
UF had lots of money, but not enough to send its own TV crew to Hawaii. That meant — you guessed it — Jim and Pal were working the broadcast shown in Florida.
The game was never close after a grand slam in the top of the first, so there was plenty of time for banter about things like how rain was guaranteed because it was the weekend of the Punahou Carnival. Jim described the malasadas so magically I could smell them, and that was the clincher; a couple of weeks later I was home, wondering how long I’d have a job before the paper shut down.
Things somehow worked out fine for me, and there are no reasons to regret leaving Florida, personal or professional. I don’t believe much in coincidences, so Jim and Pal are partly to thank.
The second time Jim’s voice influenced my life in a big way, it was directed only at me — not a TV or radio audience — and it was very firm … in control, but angry. We were in Reno for a UH football game when he asked to speak with me alone.
“I never want to see you with a cigarette again,” he said, loudly but out of earshot of anyone else. “I watched my father die from emphysema, and it was horrible.”
I’d rarely been shouted at in the 20-plus years since Army basic training. I was stunned, and don’t remember what else he said, or if I said anything in response. But I remember thinking, Who the hell are you?
Later, I realized what a huge favor he’d done me. I never smoked in front of Jim again, and thought about what he told me any time I did light up — often resulting in a barely smoked cigarette.
Eventually, I did quit completely. He smiled when I thanked him.
Maybe I would have stopped at some point, anyway. But Jim Leahey may have saved my life, or kept it from becoming completely miserable. I am prone to sinus infections, asthma and bronchitis symptoms, but they are preventable and treatable, and I’m sure would be much worse if I’d continued smoking.
In life there are many more people who will tell you what they think you want to hear than those who tell you what you need to hear. I will always remember Jim as the latter — in his work as a great sportscaster, but, more importantly, as a person who truly cared about everyone around him.
