Come with me, please, on a walk through sad. C'mon, I need the company. I don't want to take this trip by myself.

Start by crossing the entrance to the Diamond's home team clubhouse. Ever since April 22, 1966 -- in one form or another, first at Parker Field and from 1985 on at the Diamond (at the time a jewel) -- it's where the Braves' Triple-A ballplayers have changed clothes, gotten treatment, gobbled a postgame meal, set their GPS for Atlanta, daydreamed.

There's an iconic "A" above the doorway to the equipment room, a "Braves" slapped atop the opening to the laundry room, two posters in the players' lounge conjuring memories of Atlanta's 1995 World Series title. A framed No. 23 Aaron jersey hangs on a wall -- Tommie Aaron, Hank's brother, having been the league's MVP in '67 and the guy for whom the R-Braves' team MVP award is named.

Dale Murphy and Chipper Jones have been among the recipients. We all can say we knew them when.

The stadium's supports are decorated with blown-up photos of R-Braves from the past -- Murph, Chipper, David Justice, Phil Niekro. A Braves logo adorns the bat rack in the dugout. The ushers wear Braves-imprinted shirts. You can't walk far in the joint without spotting a tomahawk.

"This is a Braves town," manager Dave Brundage was saying a couple of days ago. "There's a reason why they've stayed here for 43 years."

There are reasons why there won't be a 44th year, but we've been round and round on that one, and I'm not in battle armor today, I'm in mourning. I mean, we're talking 43 years of baseball here, 43 years of Ralph Garrs and Tom Glavines, 43 years of Jim Beauchamps and Tony Brizzolaras, 43 years of ups (five championships) and downs (last in the league standings and attendance this gloomy campaign).

Forty-three years of a relationship.

Listen to this: In the history of minor-league baseball, only Bluefield, W.Va., and the Orioles -- at 51 seasons and counting as an Appalachian League couple -- exceed the link that's paired the Braves and Richmond. Now, come the last out Sept. 1, that marriage will dissolve and a franchise that's been ours since before Super Bowls and a man on the moon will head for Gwinnett County, Ga., and out of our lives forever.

You don't need to be a Braves rooter to lament that.

"The thing that bothers me is all the people who have grown up coming out here," said Bruce Baldwin, the team's GM the past 22 seasons. "Almost daily, I get a father with his kids who says to me, 'You know, my dad first brought me here,' or 'My grandfather took me to Parker Field.' That's sad. That's very, very sad."

Baldwin shrugged.

"To me, it's not about the wins and losses, it's not about the game. It's about the community. It's about coming out and participating and having fun, having a night out with the family. With our departure, I think it leaves a big hole in the fabric of our community."

He's right. Sure, we can survive without the Braves, without baseball even, without diversions. But music, art, sports -- they colorize our world. Have the Braves been consistently high-grade? Uh-uh. But they've been a perennial for 43 seasons, and that counts for a lot in my book.

"Part of this is embracing a community and being embraced back," Baldwin said. "I have days when I'm deeply saddened and I walk around this place and it makes it worse."

I know how he feels. Anyone got a tissue?
Contact Bob Lipper at (804) 649-6555 or blipper@timesdispatch.com.