Words are a way of life for any kind of journalist, whether spoken or written.
They convey what’s going on at a game, an event. They’re our way to communicate what’s going on to our respective audiences.
Most times words come easy, others difficult.
Then there’s the times they’re virtually impossible.
Especially when it comes to describing the influence a longtime friend and colleague has had on you.
Friday morning, I was awoken by a text from co-worker Larry Peterson. In it, he said he wanted to do a column on our colleague and friend Jim Sullivan of the Waterloo-Cedar Falls Courier.
That text caught my attention.
Immediately my eyes were wide open.
I jumped on Facebook and Twitter to see what was up.
What I saw left me a mess.
‘Sully’ as those who knew him called him had passed away early Friday morning of a heart attack.
He was 61.
It hit home.
Hard.
Sully wasn’t just another journalist.
As a kid reporter in my days in Charles City, Sully always welcomed me with a friendly hello when our paths crossed somewhere in the Cedar Valley, usually at a University of Northern Iowa event.
We always had friendly conversations.
I sat in many a postgame press conference deep in the bowels of either the McLeod Center or the UNI-Dome with Sully.
I always learned something from him, particularly from the line of questioning he took with Panther football coach Mark Farley or basketball coach Ben Jacobson. There was a way he asked those questions that I couldn’t help from learn from Sully.
His way with words and his sense of humor is legendary up in the Waterloo and Cedar Falls area. Having worked at the Courier since 1984, he’d built up quite the rapport up there.
There were other times our paths crossed, such as at state track or the Drake Relays. We were there putting our tape recorders in the face of legendary Charles City middle distance ace Isaac Wendland after another one of many state championships.
I’ll never forget overhearing conversations in the press box, usually some deadpanned remark that left the Drake Stadium press box roaring.
But beyond his quips and sense of humor was a friend.
In this business, we often seen our colleagues more than our family, particularly in my case in my days in northeast Iowa. I seldom made it home to Stromsburg more than twice a year in those days, so my colleagues at the Mason City Globe Gazette, KIMT television in Mason City and the Courier became like family members. I saw them more than my own family.
You can’t help but become friends with colleagues like that.
Especially with someone like Sully.
He always treated everyone equally. You could be a young reporter coming down for a ‘fun’ assignment, such as Northern Iowa football or basketball, and he still treated you the same if you were a beat writer from Fargo or Wichita.
I always enjoyed reading his quips on social media. He loved his Vikings and Twins, and Gophers too. There was always an insightful quip about the latest blunder coming out of Target Field or the Metrodome. He loved when they were winning and lamented when they were stinking up their respective buildings, which has been more the latter lately in downtown Minneapolis, especially with the Twins.
Besides being a talented journalist, he took great pride in his son Pete. He was a proud, devoted father, and that came through, whether in the Courier or on social media. Pete had just bought a house and there supporting him was a proud father.
He was also a devoted husband to his wife Kim. You could see that through various mediums how much she meant to him.
He had a great big heart, always giving whether through stories or a friendly conversation.
I recall many a conversation we had in the UNI-Dome or McLeod Center. Often they weren’t about the day’s game, but about such subjects as the Twins and Vikings or what was going on in our lives.
Sully’s passing added to what’s been a joyous, but at the same time difficult summer. As exciting as things have been with my blossoming relationship with my girlfriend April, there’s been quite a bit of death as well.
Sully was the fifth person I’ve known from my days in northeast Iowa that’s died this summer.
He was the oldest too.
It doesn’t make sense for all this death, especially so young.
Sully’s the same age as my father, so I looked up to him as a surrogate dad. He became a father figure for me in those years when I didn’t see my own father all that often.
When the news came over, it was hard to not start crying. I did later in the afternoon a couple of times and Friday night after I finished my tasks from the first Friday night football games of the season.
Hearing of Sully’s passing was like losing my father. I hope and pray it’s a long time before I have to say goodbye to my own father.
But the impact was similar.
Whether he knew it or not, he mentored me quite a bit. I always learned something from him when we interacted, always left our interactions knowing I was better for it.
Sully, thank you for your work, your friendship.
The press box, press row won’t be the same without you there.
God’s speed to Kim and Pete, your colleagues at the Courier.
You left an indelible impact on the Cedar Valley, your colleagues in this business and your many, many friends.
Thanks for the memories Sully.
You definitely won’t be forgotten.
Take care old friend. See you on the other side.