I'm not much of a crier, but the tears certainly have been flowing lately.

There comes a time in every athlete's life when he (or she, because admittedly 99 percent of the female athletes at this school are more athletic than me and could beat me in a fight) realizes that it's over and that his life will never, ever be the same again.

The pain of defeat and the joy of winning will be trumped by the pain in my back and the joy of sleeping in. Payday will be more important than game day and teamwork will exist only in a corny motivational poster on my boss's office wall.

I'm hanging up the cleats and turning in my jersey: the Bowdoin Men's Rugby Team played its final game two weekends ago. I'm as shell-shocked and in denial as I was when the Devil-less Rays vanquished my beloved Sox, and I'm sure I won't recover any time soon.

In sports, the best teammates are always the first ones to get to practice and the last ones to leave. But in college you don't just play with your teammates, you often live with them.

I've eaten hundreds of meals with teammates. I've partied with them dozens of times. We've played close to 40 games and been to over 100 practices. I've gone on road trips and bus rides, had all-nighters and sleepovers, been on field trips and movie nights. I know who will have my back in a fight, and who would give it a little massage too.

Absence may make the heart grow fonder of a loved one, but I'm pretty sure sweat, blood, and tears make the heart adore its teammates. I can remember every disagreement, every fight, every time I wished they'd just shut up and let me play, but I wouldn't trade any of them for the world. Maybe, just maybe, I would cash all of those memories in for one more game with them, but not for much else.

Some of us spent four years together. We've grown from scared little first years to strong and confident seniors. We've learned from our coaches, our opponents, ourselves, and each other. We've pushed ourselves to the limit because we knew that the guy next to us deserved nothing but our full effort. We've supported each other in good times and bad and we've seen the highs and the lows of college life.

I was lucky enough to be at the New Garden for the first game of the 08-09 NBA season when the New Big Three and friends raised a 17th banner to the rafters as the reigning world champions. We stood and cheered as the captain, Paul Pierce, took the Larry O'Brien trophy and raised it toward the ceiling in triumph?tears streaming down his face.

Obviously it was an incredible moment for Celtics fans?years of fidelity to terrible teams finally paid off, a franchise had been restored to former glory, and beloved superstars had finally added the final piece to hall of fame type résumés?but for fans of sport as well. Pierce cried, just as I did, because he knew that the team reached a higher level than he could have by himself.

College is a time for exploration. I'm grateful to Bowdoin for allowing me to grow in so many ways, and for supporting me in becoming the person I am today.

Although I may not yet be done, I've matured into an adult and learned about the world. But perhaps I'm most grateful for the school because it let me hold onto the most fundamental of passions: the bond between people working together toward a common goal and giving more from themselves than they have ever given before.

It's hard to describe how I felt as I left the field after the final whistle of my final game blew.

It's impossible to sum up the emotions that were tearing my body apart in a race to reach my mouth first: sadness at the end of an era, gratitude to teammates, fear of the future, appreciation for all that the team has given me over four years.

I couldn't find the words to express my conflicted brain, but I don't think words were necessary.

I just stared out onto the field as my best friends were collecting pieces of themselves that they had strewn about over four years, and I cried.