Indigenous feelings protruding into a good-bye

I once figured happiness came from pleasing as many people as possible.

I have since changed that philosophy to derive from pleasing those who are willing to be pleased. And, once again, I have changed that philosophy too.

I don't know much about good-byes because I have tried to avoid them as much as possible. There is the awkward feeling of telling so many people that they have meant so much when much of those feelings don't really exist.

The look of someone saying good-bye could easily be avoided and to see a tear streak down someone's cheek is not for me. Not that I am a heartless lunatic void of the ability to feel — it's just the lumps in the throat, the pains in the heart and memories flooding the brain I want to avoid.

I have had chapters written and closed in my life and now I pull the pen off the paper of one last chapter and go to grab another stack of parchment to begin another.

For some, this news is like watching the sun rise over the Gulf Coast on a cool morning day with the sounds of birds chirping in the distance and the fragrance of flowers tempting the nose. I agree.

My adventures are my own, created for me, by me, and the occasional outsider.

To those outsiders who have found a way into the inner workings of my mind, I say good-bye. You have come through a door that many people never have a chance or the opportunity to enter, let alone find.

You've come to know me and for that I am blessed.

The last two and a half years have been ones that bring pains, laughs, deep thoughts of confusion and simple matters of avoidance all together.

I have made friends, enemies, acquaintances and many memories of being a sports editor in the middle of a state where I have spent the majority of my life.

Now I am doing something for myself, my wife and my kids.

To steal some words from Billy Joel: "I never said you had to offer me a second chance/ I never said I was a victim of circumstance/ I still belong, don't get me wrong/ And you can speak your mind/ But not on my time/ I don't care what you say anymore, this is my life/ Go ahead with your own life and leave me alone."

My life belongs to those who have a rightful share in it and I have tried my whole life to keep it that way. And for this fleeting moment that the space in the newspaper is mine, let me say good-bye.

Good-bye to foul balls, late nights, field goals, complaints, injuries, conspiracy, early mornings, jubilation, pin falls, photo finishes, fired coaches, angry parents, jealous teammates, college signees, baseball draftees, spring training, fall ball, last second shots, winners and losers.

Once again, to the outsiders who have found their way to the inner workings of my mind, you know who you are and I will never forget you. I won't forget those memories of late nights and early mornings, laughing and inspiring. I won't forget those golf course shots or the philosophies that made sense, or little to say the least.

I won't forget those stories I shared of others that brought meaning to being a sports editor. I'll never forget because there are parts of this chapter worth footnoting, highlighting and bookmarking.

Brad Redford leaves his position as the sports editor for the Columbia Basin Herald today. Now, he is a sports fan once again. Thanks.