Hello, all. In explanation, I took a decidedly less prominent role after my tenure as Sports/Executive Editor ended last year. But I contributed three years of my college experience, several points off my GPA and countless hours of sleep to this newspaper, so I will have my say, damn it!

I honestly can’t believe it’s over. I haven’t left yet, and I miss N.C. State already. I love this university. I love every little thing about it. I loved almost getting plowed over by skateboarders every time I tried to walk back to Metcalf. I love the character the uneven bricks provide. I love the weird, smelly steam that emanates from those vents on the Brickyard side of the Free Expression Tunnel. I love the Court of the Carolinas, Tucker Beach and the Crafts Center. For reasons I don’t quite understand, I named my dog after Winston Hall. Some of the best free concerts I’ve been to have been at Stewart Theater. Some of the best memories I’ve made include the people I met while being all but one vending machine dinner away from living on the third floor of Witherspoon.

Thanks to all of that annoying text that surrounds your daily crossword puzzle, I was threatened by a volleyball player as well as guy in my friend’s math class who said he wanted to come after me with a pellet gun after reading a column I wrote. While reporting what I felt to be accurate and justified, I’ve been lambasted by parents, coaches, PR guys and self-ordained internet sports gods alike. And you know what? It was pretty awesome.

And all right, State’s revenue sports teams, by and large, struggled during my four years here. When I applied to be Sports Editor, I had all these ridiculous, romantic notions of being the one on the field interviewing Tom O’Brien at the ACC Championship; of being ten feet away from Tracy Smith as he went for a lay-up in the Final Four; of road tripping to Omaha to watch our baseball team finally live up to the hype. Obviously, those things didn’t happen. Instead, it was more firing and hiring, more mediocrity, more heartbreak. You’ve read all sorts of testimonials this week from some of my former co-workers about how our athletic teams are headed in the right direction. They may be, but I think it will take time. When our major sports finally start clicking, the fans – the real ones, who’ve stuck it out through rain and shine, through the Sweet Sixteen and the NIT – will be there, ecstatic and ready, faces painted with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other.

I’ll be leading the charge. Because I am, and will forever continue to be, in love with this place.

Sincere thank-yous go out to all of the coaches and club presidents that allowed me to cover their teams, especially Keith Miller of the rifle team and the talented group of guys who call themselves the BassPack. It came as no surprise that the most overlooked and underappreciated organizations at N.C. State are also the nicest and most accommodating.

Thank you, most importantly, to my dad, for guiding me through this entire process with unwavering support and generosity, as he has my entire life. And now, time for the obligatory shout-outs to the Technician Sports “boy’s club.” Thanks to Josh Harrell for bringing me on board and Clark Leonard for making sure I stayed. Thanks to Taylor Auten for being one of the coolest mentors anywhere, ever. Thanks to Tyler Everett and Taylor Barbour, two of the greatest guys you’ll ever meet, for repeatedly saving my tail last year. Thanks to Saja Hindi and Ty Johnson for being great bosses and to Lauren Blakely and – oh, jeez, this stings a little – Russell Witham for helping to keep this paper afloat last year. Thanks to Kim Rochester and Lindsey Hall, the best roommates I could have possibly dreamed up, if I somehow had the foresight to do so. To Technician’s writers, designers and photographers… I adore you all. I suppose we wouldn’t put up with flaky writers and cranky N&O night staffers and Bradley and all of that aforementioned crap if we didn’t love it on some level.

Lastly, thank you, Pack nation, for making this place what it is. To the seniors, best of luck and see you in the “real world.” Underclassmen, make the most out of every second you have left. Peace. Go Pack.