<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8601070586
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
860213
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Thursday, February 13, 1986
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1E
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>
Photo
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1986, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
WOULD-BE LOAN OFFICER IS PAYING OFF FOR WINGS
</HEADLINE>
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</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
I get around. I hear stories. I have heard of a one-legged skier and a
midget baseball player. I have heard of a boxing promoter with electric hair.
I have heard of The Chicken. I have never heard  of a hockey player whose
career almost ended because his agent died.

  His agent died?

  "What happened?" I ask.
  "Normie was pretty old," the player says.
  "Normie," I repeat.
  I am  hearing some strange things. I am hearing stories too weird to be
lies. I am sitting with Jim Leavins, age 25, and he is telling me how he came
to be a Detroit Red Wings defenseman.
  I am nodding  my head. But I'm not sure why.
  "After Normie passed away there was nobody to contact the teams about me,"
he says, "so I just went home. To Dinsmore." 
  "Dinsmore?" I ask.
  "Saskatchewan,"  he says.
  "Saskatchewan," I repeat.
  I have seen a few places. I have seen Texas. I have seen Yugoslavia. I
have seen New Jersey from every exit on its turnpike. I have seen Green Bay. I
have  never seen Dinsmore, Saskatchewan. No. I would have remembered that one.
  "A big town?" I ask.
  "Only 450 people," he says. "We have a cafe. The Dinsmore Cafe. And a
hotel. The Dinsmore Hotel.  And a credit union."
  "The Dinsmore Credit Union?" I say.
  "That's right," he says. "I applied for a job there last September."
  "A job," I repeat.
Got the call at YMCA 
  We are talking  about Jim Leavins, aren't we? The hockey player? The guy
who set up a beautiful  goal by Reed Larson Tuesday night against Edmonton?
The guy Red Wings coach Brad Park calls "the best puck-handling defenseman  on
the team" ?  That's he,  right? That Jim Leavins?
  "What kind of job?" I ask.
  "Loan officer," he says. 
  "Loan officer," I repeat.
  I have heard of a pitcher who plays the saxophone.  I have heard of a
football player selling flowers. I have heard of a heavyweight champion who is
now a priest. I have never heard of a hockey player as a loan officer. I am
hearing it now.
  "Did  you take the job?" I ask.
  "No, that's when I got the phone call," he says.
  "The phone call," I repeat.
  The phone call was from Bill Dineen, who coaches the Adirondack Red Wings
in the  American Hockey League. They needed a defenseman. Dineen remembered
Leavins from the latter's college days at the University of Denver. 
  Leavins -- who still lacked an agent outside the spiritual world -- signed
for a 15-game tryout.
  "I wasn't doing anything anyhow," he says.
  "Right," I say.
  He stayed with Adirondack a few months. He got $225 a game. The players
traveled by bus.  Played in Hershey and Glens Falls. He was happy. Then the
Red Wings called. They wanted to bring him up. It was a big moment. A thrill
of a lifetime.
  "Where were you when they called?" I ask.
  "In the YMCA," he says.
  "The YMCA," I repeat.
Found a healthy agent 
  I have heard of schoolyards. I have heard of street corners. I have heard
of Hollywood and Vine, where they discover  the actors. The YMCA?
  "We were playing basketball," he says.
  "Basketball," I repeat.
  He took the call in the gym. Four hours later he was on a plane to
Detroit. The next night he started  for the Red Wings against New Jersey.
  That was a month ago. He has been here since.
  He has played well. He has found an agent. A younger agent. In good
health. The Red Wings are negotiating  a new contract for him.
  "How are the negotiations going?" I ask.
  "I don't know," he says. "I hope OK."
  "You hope OK," I repeat.
  I have heard of quarterbacks in panty hose. I have  heard of Dinka
tribesmen playing basketball. I have heard of a boxer named Willie the Worm. I
have heard of Refrigerators and Spuds. I have heard of The Iron Sheik.
  I have never heard of a would-be  loan officer from Dinsmore,
Saskatchewan, who went from his living room to the best puck-handling
defenseman on the Detroit Red Wings in less than six months. That is, until
now.
  "This is quite a  story," I say. 
  "Thank you," he says.
  "A real Horatio Alger tale," I say.
  "Never heard of him," he says.
CUTLINE
 Jim Leavins 

olumn; Jim Leavins; DRedWings; biography; hockey
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