My balls don't itch anymore. I've been cured. What was once a raging inflammation on my loins is now just an unpleasant memory. No more scratching, biting, rubbing, bleeding, or picking. My pubes are starting to grow back. And, poignantly, the disappearance of my old friend the fungal infection coincides quite conveniently with the disappearance of this very column. This is Jock Itch's farewell!

The promise I made to myself when I started writing this column almost 13 years ago was that I would, to the best of my abilities, transform the dialogue about sports in Seattle from the benign banality issued daily by the Seattle Times into a radical malignancy that would help fund programs for pregnant teens. The Jock Itch Foundation created Physical Education for Pregnant Teens, or PEPTalk, which created the Late Term Push-up/Sit-up Program that has helped millions of pregnant teens stay physically fit. History will judge whether Jock Itch has helped reduce the number of unfit pregnant teens, so I urge all of you to tell your friends to get pregnant, join PEPTalk, and exercise!

We here at Jock Itch Central, while trying desperately to avoid producing actual sports coverage, witnessed many historical sporting events. During my live coverage of the 91st Tour de France, when Lance Armstrong became the first person to win 6 times, I described the French as "fucking Brie-burping bastards." During the Olympics, I criticized the torch relay by saying, "Maybe a thousand years ago it made sense for a few falafel-farting Athenians to run from one olive farm to the next, but these days it only represents everything that is wrong with everything people do when they try to unite humanity." When statistics showed that kids across America were losing interest in playing baseball I wrote, "Kids being forced to play baseball by their fat loser dads would be happier pooping in a jar." And this year, when the Boston Red Sox ended the Curse of the Bambino by winning the World Series, I reported that the "curse" was "proof that baseball fans are as dumb as a turd in a cup of grapefruit juice." Funny, funny stuff!

Okay, so that's it. No more Jock Itch! Stop whining about it and go run around the block, you fat fuckers.