To the city by the bay, to the franchise that shaped me, and to the fans who became my family,
It’s been a long time coming, and maybe I should have said this sooner. Maybe words could never fully capture what I feel, but today, I’ll try.
I came to San Francisco as a wide-eyed country boy from North Carolina, a kid with a big arm and bigger dreams. I left as a champion, as a Giant in every sense of the word, and as a man forever indebted to this city, this team, and all of you who stood behind me, rain or shine.
I still remember the first time I stepped onto that mound at Oracle Park, the energy of the crowd rolling through me like a tidal wave. I remember every roar, every chant of “Let’s go, Giants!” shaking the very foundation of that ballpark. And I remember every battle we fought together.
2010. A 21-year-old kid handed the ball in Game 4 of the World Series, asked to help bring a championship to a city starving for one. I didn’t know what I didn’t know—but I knew I wouldn’t let you down.
2011. The ups and downs of a long season, the fight through October, the Grand Slam against the Tigers, and the champagne showers that followed.
2012. The greatest ride of them all. The moments that will live with me forever. 117 pitches in a complete game shutout in the Wild Card. A Game 5 masterpiece in Kansas City. And then, of course, Game 7. Five innings. Two days’ rest. The weight of a dynasty on my shoulders. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
I didn’t do it alone. We did it together. With Buster’s steady hands behind the plate. With Boch’s unwavering faith in me. With Panda catching that final out, with Pence, Crawford, Belt, and every single teammate who made those years so special.
To the fans—my God, what can I say? You embraced me, made me your own, let me be the rancher from North Carolina who also happened to throw a baseball pretty well. You never cared about the spotlight, the headlines, or the noise. You only cared about one thing: loyalty. And I felt it every single time I stepped onto that field.
Leaving was the hardest thing I ever had to do. The game moves on, and so do we, but part of my heart never left San Francisco. It never will. No matter where I went, I carried those orange and black memories with me.
So today, whether this is a goodbye, a see-you-later, or just a long-overdue thank you—I want you to know one thing:
I will always be a Giant.
Forever grateful,
MadBum