There are some moments in life that you just… avoid. For weeks, I’d been staring at a blank screen, the cursor blinking mockingly, a silent dare to put words to paper. Laundry piles grew, errands were invented, anything to postpone the inevitable. But time, as it always does, marches on, and with it, the need to finally say what needs to be said.
It wasn’t a “goodbye letter,” though that’s what I almost typed. It felt more like a thank you. A profound, heartfelt thank you to Mississippi State and to Starkville, the place that has quite literally been my entire world for the past six years. Tomorrow marks my last day writing for MSU, and soon, Starkville will be a memory I carry with me.
I know, I know, I can be a bit dramatic. But if you’ve read my stories, you’re probably used to it by now. This decision wasn’t made lightly. I’ve loved almost every single second of my time here. There’s truly no place like Starkville, no community quite like the one that surrounds Mississippi State. And while Dave’s Darkhorse Tavern might proudly sport “NEVER GRADUATE” on their shirts, for me, it’s time. Time to graduate, even if it feels as bittersweet as it sounds.
Am I leaving for greener pastures? Not exactly. I’m searching for different ones. I don’t have a grand plan, just a gut feeling that it’s time to take a step. And if this rambles a bit, well, I’m more accustomed to telling other people’s stories than my own.
I remember back in the summer of 2012. I was sitting in the Athletic Director’s office, a fresh-faced kid barely a year out of college, mostly paying the bills by slinging coffee and tweeting about State athletics. Scott Stricklin wanted an in-house reporter, and Joe Galbraith, bless his heart, had apparently been my biggest advocate. Mike Nemeth was there, I suspect, as a failsafe. I’ll never be able to truly express my gratitude to them for taking a chance on someone so green. It was a proposition that had my journalism instincts buzzing, even if some friends in the industry thought it was a bit of a gamble.
Saying yes? Best decision ever. It took a while to find my footing, but I distinctly recall a moment in Omaha, the summer after my first year. It was the morning after a College World Series game, and I was holed up in a hotel lobby, the only place with decent Wi-Fi. I wrote about Hunter Renfroe’s towering home run, a moment I’d witnessed firsthand from the dugout. My audience was small then, but I was proud of that story. It was then I realized how much I loved writing about baseball.
And then, the magic happened. I posted it, shut my laptop, and went about my day. Later, I saw a tweet that stopped me in my tracks. Rick Cleveland. THE Rick Cleveland. The legend. He’d tweeted a link to my story. The person I, and so many other Mississippians, had grown up reading. He didn’t say much, didn’t even tag me, but that simple act, that quiet endorsement from a giant, meant everything. It was a moment that solidified my path, a moment that whispered, 'You're in the right place.'
