Levins: My Dad had a profound influence on my life and my career

Twenty-two years ago, my sisters — Jane Williams and Julie Levins — and I laid our mother, Mary Alice (Perry) Levins to rest. She died of ovarian cancer at the far-too-young age of 58.

On Saturday, my sisters and I laid our father, Russell James Levins, to rest. He died Tuesday from complications from a stroke he suffered on April 29.

It was a day I knew was coming eventually, yet I still wasn't ready to say goodbye.

My parents had a big part in who I am today. Without either, I wouldn't be embarking on my 32nd year in the newspaper business.

I credit my mother for inspiring me to become a writer. From the early days of watching 'The Waltons' on television — we only had four channels to choose from back then — I wanted to be a writer like John Boy. I still have a couple of the old Son of Big Chief writing tablets here at the house.

While one of my middle school teachers at Horace Mann once said I would be a comedian — I was the class clown — I always knew in my heart I wanted to be a writer. I have never been good at expressing myself verbally, but always have seemed to have a knack for writing.

While my Mom inspired me to pursue writing, it was my Dad who sparked my interest in sports at a young age.

I remember watching the 1971 World Series with my Dad, asking questions during a thrilling series at the age of seven.

My Dad and I used to stay up late on weekends watching UCLA basketball games together. I became a loyal Bruins fan, watching Bill Walton and gang roll up 88 straight wins. I remember crying when they lost to Notre Dame to end the streak, and to North Carolina State in the 1974 semifinals. My Dad was right there to comfort me.

Back then, we lived in a big house at 1515 Aetna Street in Burlington. I remember my Dad buying me a Nerf basketball set which we hung in the hallway. We would plays games all the time. Somehow, I ended up winning most of them at the very end.

We also played a lot of games at the basketball hoop in the alley on the Myatts' garage.

In the fall, my Dad and I would toss the football around. We were big Notre Dame fans and watched all the Fighting Irish games. I still have that little red football in our family room. My Dad used to toss that little red football to me while he reclined in his chair and I would run pass patterns through the living room into the hallway, pretending I was Dave Casper.

I will forever remember the trips my Dad always took me on every year to Busch Stadium to watch the Cardinals baseball games. We would ride the bus with the Knights of Columbus. I always got to invite a friend along and we would play card games, drink pop and eat sandwiches on the way down while the adults imbibed in other libations.

I got to see my favorite team, the Chicago Cubs, numerous times. Don Kessinger, Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, Rn Santo, Glenn Beckert, Randy Hundley and my all-time favorite Cub, Jose Cardenal.

We also watched the 1976 Cincinnati Red and the 1977 Los Angeles Dodgers, each of whom went on to play in the World Series.

One of my fondest memories came in 1974 when my Dad took me to St. Louis to see my favorite pro football team, the Dallas Cowboys. While the Cowboys lost, the real fun came after the game going back to the bus. Some of the guys in our group got into it with some other fans and they followed us to the bus. We all climbed aboard and the other group started rocking the bus to and fro. My Dad put an end to that, opening the valve to the toilet and dumping toilet water all over the guys outside. It's a good thing the bus driver had a lead foot.

My Dad got me involved in Little League — the 1972 Eagles won the Western Division title and I still have the trophy on my desk. He also helped coach me in flag football — I have the 1973 Burlington YMCA first-place blue ribbon hanging in my den.

My Dad also taught me how to fish and play golf. He used to take my friend, Matt Brinck, and I fishing at my Aunt Jean's or Matt's Uncle Lawrence's. We would spend hours reeling in one fish after another.

My Dad was a pretty good golfer in his day. I used to think he looked a little like Jack Nicklaus. Heck, back then I thought he played like him, too. We played in many tournaments together growing up at Indian Hills Golf and Country Club in Morning Sun, where we were members for several years.

My Dad used to take me and my cousin, Dave Levins, golfing with him and my uncle John, who was a fantastic golfer. Once, my Dad put an exploding ball on the tee and let my cousin Dave take a whack at it. The look on Dave's face was priceless. Then there was the time he got onto the green and let me putt. Little did I know, he put a lopsided ball on the green, so went I hit it, it went every which direction except where it was supposed to go.

Back in the early 1970s, my Dad used to take me to Iowa City for the Amana VIP Tournament. Even though I got sick every single time from the smell of bratwurst and sauerkraut — eww! — those were some of the greatest times. I got to see two of my all-time favorites — Johnny Miller and Tom Weiskopf — up close and personal. Of course my Dad's greatest thrill there was seeing George Lindsey, better known as Goober Pyle from The Andy Griffith Show.

When I got to high school and my family moved to West Burlington, my Dad used to take myself, Tom Haring, Roger Waterman and David Wagner up to the high school and hit fly balls to us. We had fun hot-dogging it, trying to make spectacular catches on every ball.

My Dad and I drifted apart for about 20 years after my parents got divorced just after my sisters and I graduated high school. Those were years I will never get back, memories that were never made.

I eventually forgave my Dad and in 2007, thanks to Ed Larson, we got to go to a Notre Dame home football game against Navy. While Navy won in three overtimes, my Dad and I were awestruck being in that stadium, the Golden Dome in the distance. That was the thrill of a lifetime. After all the games my Dad had taken me to growing up, I was able to return the favor and take him to see his favorite team play in person.

Was my Dad the best father in the world? No. Nor was he the worst.

But he was my Dad, and I will forever remember him and be grateful for him helping me become the man I am today.

My Dad and I had a nice conversation on the phone about a week before he died. That was the last time I will ever talk to him. And the last words I said to him were, "I love you, Dad."

Farewell, Dad, until we meet again in that big ball field in the sky.

Matt Levins is a sports reporter for the USA TODAY Network in Burlington, Iowa, who has covered local sports for 31 years. Reach him at mlevins@thehawkeye.com.

This article originally appeared on The Hawk Eye: Russell Levins helped me develop a love for sports that has flourished