Paul Allen will find it difficult to replace Tod Leiweke

RENTON — Tod Leiweke forgot to make his own announcement.

Sure, it was a formality; the news of his departure as the chief executive officer of Paul Allen's sports teams already had been released. But here was his chance to make an event of his decision. He declined. Typical.

He showed up for his farewell news conference wearing a Seahawks polo, sat down and offered a nervous "Well, hello." His voice cracked. He nearly cried several times. He reflected on seven quality years of service and fought off the perception that Vulcan Sports — aka Allen's toys — is in a complete dysfunctional free-fall. He couldn't muster enough "me" to make his goodbye compelling. Typical.

That's why I like Leiweke. He's an understated, unpretentious, unwavering leader. The Seahawks, Sounders FC and Portland Trail Blazers will miss him. The past eight months for the Vulcan Sports franchises, particularly the Seahawks and Blazers, have been a whirlwind of tumult. Change has been rampant: firings, resignations, high-profile hires, infighting, restructuring, calamities, retirements and, sadly, Allen's battle with cancer.

Leiweke oversaw it all without losing his mind — or himself. He accepted blame for the messy manner in which Jim Mora was unfairly ousted as the Seahawks coach to make room for Pete Carroll, even though it was clear Leiweke wasn't making those decisions alone. He took all that "LIEweke" name-calling, never whined and kept fulfilling his boss' wishes.

And despite the turmoil, Allen's teams remain on solid footing because Leiweke managed them in a financially-responsible manner and did his best to inspire collaboration in a company full of egos that can turn misguided quickly.

Now, he's gone, back to his hockey roots, off to be the CEO and part owner of the Tampa Bay Lightning. Leiweke has vowed to stay until his replacement has been found, but when he leaves, the transition won't be as smooth as he thinks it can be.

To use sports vernacular, Allen is losing his glue guy.

Who created this connection that Allen's teams now have with their fan bases? Leiweke. Who served as the cartilage that kept Mike Holmgren and Tim Ruskell operating long enough to make the playoffs three times and go to a Super Bowl? Leiweke. Who jumped in front of angry Seahawks fans to shield Allen from heavy criticism during the past two hapless years? Leiweke.

Allen can replace Leiweke's talent, as difficult as that will be. But he will have a hard time finding an executive to commit to the cause with as much humility, sincerity and flat-out toughness as Leiweke did.

When Leiweke told Allen he was leaving for a hockey team in Florida, the owner's response was simple.

"Are you sure?" Allen asked.

He should've exclaimed, "Don't leave me, brother!"

It seems like a peculiar move for Leiweke. He goes from running three teams to trying to rebuild a misplaced hockey franchise that resides in a largely dispassionate sports town. Nevertheless, Leiweke is adamant that this decision wasn't born of a desire to escape Vulcan.

"I think that's part of why the sports page has its own section," Leiweke said when asked about the perception of Vulcan dysfunction. "People like to speculate in the sports world. It's just part of it. I don't think there's been anything dysfunctional about our operation at Vulcan. If there was dysfunction, Mr. Allen wouldn't have been able to get Qwest Field built, or brought an MLS franchise here, or figured out how to make it work at the Rose Garden. Those are not feats of dysfunction.

"I will be the strongest advocate of this job for the next CEO. I think this is a grand opportunity."

It's grand if you have superior people skills. You have to be strong enough to make tough decisions, but flexible enough to make sure plenty of people feel involved. That's how it works with Allen and his crew. Complete autonomy is a pipe dream. But Leiweke learned how to acquire the influence to transform Allen's passion into a stable sports business.

Of course, at the end, portions of the Leiweke model were blown to bits. The "Holmgren Part II" pursuit was wishy-washy. Mora-for-Carroll was clumsy. The Blazers firing general manager Kevin Pritchard was silly. Still, there's Leiweke, unabashedly positive, hoping to sell enthusiasm one last time. He refers to what the Seahawks have built with the 12th Man as "the essence of this franchise" and calls it "bigger than any one person."

"I've given this place everything I had, and we built something special here," Leiweke said. "Walking away from that is something that keeps you awake at night."

Well, not anymore.

"I'm going to finally get a good night's sleep tonight," he said.

It's not because the nightmare is over. It's because the decision has been made. Leiweke never really said farewell, but he's gone.

In a year of goodbyes for Vulcan, his understated departure quietly threatens to be the most significant.

Jerry Brewer: 206-464-2277 or jbrewer@seattletimes.com, Twitter: @Jerry_Brewer