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A Departing Giants' Fan's Last Request

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A Departing Giants' Fan's Last Request
(Photo by Jamie Squire/Getty Images)

I am one week away from leaving the Bay Area. That's right. This girl's hittin' the road and starting a new life in the dirty south. 

While I couldn't be more excited about returning to New Orleans, it's hit me recently that I'm not just leaving a mere noun behind. Not just the place I grew up, the place that's always been home. 

I only have one question for myself: What the hell am I going to do next spring?

I have barely lived my life without being able to see/hear about the Giants or baseball in general. When I applied to colleges, I made sure my potential new home had a baseball team somewhere near it. All except one city: New Orleans.

Long story short, I ended up there. Of all places. And totally fell in love. Of course, the one place I applied with no Major League Baseball team within 400 miles. What was a girl to do? Become a Braves fan? Astros? Marlins? Not bloody likely.

I survived. Only because I came home for the summer, during the peak of it all.

Now, I find myself in the same pickle. I'm torn between the city I need to be in, and the city I need to leave. I didn't ever think the hardest thing to leave would be my boys. My park. My fries. Especially after this season.

Sure, we missed the playoffs. But for the majority of the 2009 regular season, the Giants embodied the tale of "The Little Engine That Could". Sure, they frustrated me beyond belief, but no one ever thought they'd get as far as they did.

I can't recall a season that has been more fun to watch. I thank the baseball gods that the it ended on a high note. 

And what made it the most fun? Bleacher Report, of course. What makes the move more comforting is the fact that I can take all of this with me. The nurturing community of my peers and fellow sports fans.

So here I am, packing up my belongings. What in my baseball shrine is going to make the cut? My JT Snow and Rich Aurilia bobbleheads, my Brooks Robinson autographed baseball, my JT/Kruk/Stan Javier signed baseball cards, my worn out JT and GO GIANTS! posters.

I have washed and packed at least a dozen orange/black/white t shirts. That does not include the sweatshirts and jackets as well. I'm taking it ALL. Picking and choosing which would go would be far too painful. 

And my roommate is a Red Sox fan, go figure.

So, fellow Giants fans, I must say farewell. I can't ever forsake the men in black, nor would I ever want to. I'll do my best to spread our fan base.

Here's what I ask of you: help me soak it all up. Come next season, I know I'll be homesick for it all. Link me to all your articles. Make me feel like I'm in two places at once. 

And while you're at it...

Give every Dodger fan hell like you know I would, blow JT multiple kisses for me, tell Nate Schierholtz that I'm saving myself for him, get all misty eyed when you hear "Night Moves" (because it reminds you of me), and get all bundled up for those breezy July nights at the park. 

I know I can count on you. And if you're ever in New Orleans...

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