There's a picture on the wall of my parents' upstairs hallway that tells you everything you need to know about my high school football career. Under the glare of the (Friday night) lights, there I am, rolling out of the pocket in our rip-off (yet completely awesome) red New York Jets-style uniforms. My head is snapped up field, looking for a receiver to throw to but — of course — there isn't one. In the picture, I don't even have the ball in my hands. Nope, the ball is with one of our all-state running backs going the other way.

So there you have my varsity quarterbacking career in a nutshell: take the snap, hand off and run the other way.

It's pretty good work, if you can get it.

But it's also the reason my favorite memory of high school football sticks out so much in my mind. You see, it was my junior year — my first year starting — and we were playing our final regular-season game against our biggest rival. The game, which was to decide the conference championship (and would be our school's first-ever title), was slated as the Minneapolis Star Tribune's “Game of the Week,” and it was pretty hyped up.

We were, understandably, a running team, as we had three of the best running backs in the state and receivers who couldn't catch a cold if they spent a month in a hospital. Yet, we couldn't gain a yard on the ground all night and trailed at halftime.

In the third quarter, we came out throwing. On our first possession, we ran a play very similar to the one from the previously mentioned photo — except I actually still had the ball when I rolled out. Our tight end caught it on a deep crossing route and took it down to the 1-yard line before getting pushed out of bounds. One of our backs punched it in from there for our only touchdown of the game, good enough for a three-point win and a conference title.

The next morning, I couldn't wait to read the article, because, after all, it was that pass that essentially won us the game. I tore down the stairs to find it, more excited than Pacman Jones heading into a strip club. I ripped open the sports section and saw it: The reporter certainly led with that pass play ... but he mistakenly put our backup quarterback's name instead of mine.

Anyway, I bring this up for two reasons: 1) That moment, that story, had a tremendous influence on how I went about my job at the Summit Daily, and 2) That entire experience taught me a lot about sports and, in particular, its importance in our lives.

I guess this is as good a time as any to say this is the final edition of “The Breakdown,” as my family and I are leaving the county. It was a tough call to make, but similar to how Albert Pujols will soon bolt St. Louis to join the Cubs (stop laughing), sometimes change is inevitable and, simply put, a necessary part of life.

I don't want to leave, though, by simply spewing out 800 words of jokes about Lance Armstrong's latest accusers or how the Preakness is pointless or even that if Shaq comes back for another season, he'll be the first NBA player forced to wear the Manzier invented on “Seinfeld.”

No, I think I owe a little more to those of you who have actually read my columns over the last few years. That is to say, I feel I owe it to everyone who has made my time here in Summit County so great and worthwhile.

And, that brings us back to my reliving-the-glory-years-that-weren't-all-that-glorious story. I mean, I hadn't actually thought of that or the article written about it for years until one of the first games I covered up here at Summit High.

The nuts-and-bolts reason it came back up was because I remembered how it felt to have my name wrong or simply left out, and I've tried my hardest to make sure names are always correct in my stories. That's Reason No. 1 I spoke of earlier.

The more important reason (No. 2 from earlier) is that working up here has made me remember how great sports really can be, something I'd certainly forgotten through my years of trying to play college sports, then covering college sports and then pretty much only watching professional and major D-I teams.

Since I've been up here, I've witnessed many things that not only make me feel better about what I do for a living but should make everyone more appreciative of the impact sports has on our lives and the lives of our kids.

For three straight falls, I watched the SHS girls' rugby team define the word “unselfish,” as I don't think I've ever seen a team that good play with so little ego and so much class.

I remember, watching Jeff Westcott (the voice on the loud speaker you hear at every biking race) separate two junior racers who were fighting, sit them down and tell them about the importance of sportsmanship and competing the right way.

There was the time I watched the Tiger boys' hoops team — playing their final game of a winless season — giving more effort and heart on the court than you'd ever see in an NBA Finals.

There's more to sports than wins and losses, stats and scores. And really, unless you're making a paycheck from playing, none of that should ever be the primary focus.

I'm happy to have been able to witness it all up here and play my small role in making sure people realize it's going on.

I guess the thing to remember, when it comes to sports, is that we don't need those pictures on the walls or our names in the paper to remind us of everything that happened. For a lot of us, sports was an important part of shaping who we are, and I've been reminded of that every day for the last three years.

Thanks and so long.