I'm sitting here at the computer, trying to find the right words to say what I need to say. It's not really goodbye. Farewell doesn't seem right, either.
So let's start with this: I am leaving the Star Tribune, which has been my happy home for 19 years. My resignation is effective Tuesday, which means this is my final contribution to this fine newspaper. I am moving on to a new career chapter.
Everyone knows the newspaper industry has been rocky. But that doesn't make the decision to leave easy. I've been a newspaper guy since high school. It's the only life I have known. The daily newspaper stops I've made sound like a Bizarro World train schedule: Des Moines, Ottumwa, Cedar Rapids, Phoenix, Minneapolis.
A word that always comes to mind when I think of newspaper people -- especially my colleagues at the Star Tribune -- is integrity. The men and women who work inside these walls are defenders of fact and truth, and it is a mission they don't take lightly. I will try to carry their integrity with me to my next stop as a member of the Minnesota State High School League staff.
The key words in that previous sentence are "high school." I've been writing about high school activities for many years now, and it is my favorite place to be. The people I have met and the stories I have been honored to write will stay with me.
I've written about young athletes who went on to big things. One evening, I phoned the home of an 11th-grade quarterback in St. Paul. His mom answered the phone and said, "Oh hi, John; Joe's upstairs, I'll get him for you." And then I heard her holler, "Joe-Joe! Telephone!" Yes, that was Joe Mauer.
Before Trevor Mbakwe was photographed as part of an All-Metro basketball team, he politely asked me if he could (in order to boost the biceps) do a few pushups on the floor of our photo studio. Permission granted.
Long before Cole Aldrich was a basketball star at Kansas with talk swirling around his future as a first-round NBA draft choice, I sat in the Bloomington Jefferson library while a giggling Cole had me watch a cartoon on his iPod. We did an interview, but we laughed a lot, too.
I watched Blake Hoffarber make a shot to tie the score as overtime ended. From the seat of his pants. In a state championship game. You don't forget things like that.
Then there were the smaller stories, the truly human stories that meant so much ...
Watching football and basketball teams from the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf giving it everything they've got. Meeting Kolby Gruhot at Shriners Hospital, where he was receiving a new prosthetic leg, and watching him the next day as he helped Stephen-Argyle win a state football title.
Watching the Red Wing football team in a playoff game during a 2002 teachers' strike, which meant the Wingers played while their coaches watched from the stands. And seeing coach Paul Schmit hold his son, senior quarterback Marcus, in a tear-filled, sobbing embrace after the boys fell achingly short of a victory.
Watching Cannon Falls first baseman Mike Spillman take ground balls and run around the bases after having a pacemaker implanted in his chest. Meeting Eden Prairie hockey player Ryan Shuman in a cancer center. He lost his hair but he never lost his smile. In Ryan's memory, his family holds an annual fundraiser for the Make-A-Wish Foundation and the Children's Cancer Research Fund, at which I have been honored to speak.
Sitting in the passenger seat as Ellsworth basketball star Cody Schilling gave me a guided tour of the town; it didn't take long. Being inspired by Armstrong multisport athlete Evan Wilson, who wasn't slowed at all just because he had Down syndrome. Getting to know Wayzata quarterback Sasha Doran, who a few years ago was living in a Russian orphanage.
Sitting in a waiting room for hour after nervous hour with Cherry basketball player Laura Griffiths' parents and grandmother while Laura underwent a heart operation; Sen. Mark Dayton paid the medical bills after reading a story I authored about Laura. Meeting White Bear Lake football player Shawn McGirl, who is just one of the guys despite having two prosthetic feet and ankles.
Some things change, but not everything. When I was a little kid, my heroes were teachers, coaches and high school athletes. And that has never changed.
I'll see you soon.
John Millea • john.millea@ymail.com