It's not about you ... until it is.

Field hockey has become a faster and more dangerous sport in recent years.

Something terrible happened in a local high school field hockey game recently, and because of the unique nature of the circumstance, it has become a national story -- and a talking point for those on the conservative side of the ledger that point to this situation as an example of the decline of this country's moral fiber.

Which is bullshit, of course.

But that doesn't stop the reactionary souls that raptly absorb the daily dose of right-wing propaganda that's spewed with impunity by Fox News and other so-called conservative media organizations. Armed with very little actual knowledge and a snootful of manufactured outrage, lots of those slack-jawed Fox viewers have come forth to comment upon a story in our local newspaper and offer their unsupported opinions that hordes of virile and burly young male athletes are plotting to take over women's sports.

That couldn't be further from the truth. But it does play into the Trump-tainted Republican Party's national agenda to vilify transgender athletes that are seeking equal opportunity to compete. It doesn't even matter that there were no transgender athletes involved in this particular circumstance; the GOP has prospered by embracing the notion that you never need to confuse a good rant with facts.

Here, as far as I know, is what happened.

The Dighton-Rehoboth Regional High School field hockey team, seeded No. 21 in the MIAA Division 3 state tournament, was playing on Thursday at No. 12 Swampscott in the Round of 32. With about three minutes left in the third quarter and D-R trailing 1-0, Swampscott set up for an offensive corner, and the ball was sent out to a Swampscott player at the top of the circle, who sent an elevated shot toward the goal. The shooter was a male athlete.

The shot struck a Dighton-Rehoboth defender in the face, and the result of the impact was catastrophic. The player had several teeth knocked out and suffered other facial injuries, according to media reports.

There is a video of the play making the rounds of the Internet. It's not a close-up and it's very difficult to determine exactly what happened from it. A statement released by the Swampscott athletic director later that night claimed that the male player's shot was actually deflected off another player's stick before it hit the unidentified D-R player in the face. That is not easy to confirm from the video that is available.

Of course, this was a terrible accident, an unintentional injury that is the direct result of athletes hitting a very hard ball with sticks against athletes that are wearing no specific facial protection. But the fact that a male athlete hit the ball has unleashed a wave of outrage from those that have been conditioned to view any mixed-gender situation as a left-wing conspiracy to take away the rights of female athletes.

In a matter of a few hours, suddenly this boy became a physically mature and burly man with a linebacker's body who unleashed a fearsome slap shot into the face of the D-R girl, and then gloated about it because it is the Democrat agenda for men to take over girls' sports. All of that is absolutely untrue. I was not present at the game and can only go by the images in the fuzzy video, but it appeared to me that a tallish and slender individual took a low swing at the ball off the corner pass, followed by piercing screams of anguish from the injured player and by her horrified teammates.

Interviewing injured athletes has 
never been an easy thing to do.

I hate to see injuries. I've seen far too many of them since I started covering high school sports in 1969. I've even suffered a few of my own, and they remind me to this day of the damage they caused. I've seen people carried off fields, rinks and basketball courts and I've winced in sympathetic pain at their suffering. And worst of all, I have seen two young men playing in football games that were subjected to seemingly innocuous contact but were never again able to get up on their own for the rest of their lives. Risk is part of athletic competition, but sometimes it seems so damned unreasonable.

If there is any good news to be found, it's that the injured D-R athlete has been released from the hospital. She will need a lot of recovery time and the hard work of talented medical personnel for the purpose of restoration, and I can only hope she will find solace and strength in the support and love from her family and friends. 

As for this particular instance, it was absolutely legal for that male athlete to be competing in that game -- and it's my guess is that 95 percent of the commenting individuals aren't even remotely aware of the rules governing mixed-gender teams in this state.

The truth is, field hockey in this state has been open to male participation almost since Title IX of the federal Education Amendments of 1972 was put into effect to ensure equal opportunity for female athletes. Locally, Norton High School became the first area school to have a boy on its field hockey team in the late 1970s. That young man (not identified here because I don't feel it's necessary to involve him in a totally unrelated controversy) was the Lancers' goalkeeper and he was pretty good, although not at all dominant. And while he was somewhat of a novelty at the time, I never sensed that there were many objections to his presence.

This state codified the provisions of Title IX by adopting the Massachusetts Equal Rights Amendment in 1979, and the Massachusetts Interscholastic Athletic Association amended its own rules that same year to state, “A girl may play on a boys’ team if that sport is not offered in the school for the girl, and a boy may play on a girls’ team if that sport is not offered in the school for the boy.”

Over the 44 years since it became legal for such mixed-gender teams to exist, there has not been a flood of young boys looking to play girls' sports, or girls seeking to join boys' teams. But I do remember some notable examples.

When I worked at The Patriot Ledger of Quincy in the 1980s, I wrote about a female goalie on the boys' ice hockey team at what was then Plymouth-Carver Regional High School. She was pretty good and got regular turns in goal. I've since known of a smattering of girls on local football teams, including Foxboro High. This year, I know of girls on the roster at Tri-County and Taunton; the Taunton girl is a placekicker that has contributed a few extra points and sometimes handles kickoffs. 

There have been other, more notorious instances. Not long ago, Somerset Berkley Regional High had two boys starting on its field hockey roster and it won two state titles in a four-year period. Some schools didn't want to play Somerset Berkley because they believed the two boys created an uneven playing field. 

Some local girls' volleyball teams also had to make room for boys because their schools did not offer boys' volleyball. For a while, the MIAA tried to restrict boys on volleyball teams to back-row play because it was feared that their potentially powerful spikes could injure players on the other side of the net, but that guideline was prohibited by the provisions of the 1979 legislation.

In many cases, schools just bit the bullet and started to fund teams for both genders in a number of sports such as ice hockey, lacrosse and volleyball. Girls are still participating in football and wrestling and boys in field hockey because there just isn't the demand among athletes to field new same-sex teams.

In the wake of the tragic injury to the D-R athlete, one of her teammates wrote an essay that D-R Schools Supt. Bill Runey (the former Attleboro High principal) forwarded to the MIAA. It was a well-written and well-researched piece that offered objections to the participation of males on female field hockey teams due to the many physiological differences in the sexes. The essay also claims that 41 males are playing field hockey in Massachusetts at the present time.

That may sound like a lot, and I was hoping for more context -- such as how many athletes in total compete in field hockey. I found some figures on the National Federation of High Schools website, and I will attempt to provide some context from them.

There are 383 schools that are members of the MIAA, but not all of them compete in all sports. Field hockey is one of the oldest offerings, but not everyone plays it; Norton has since dropped its team, while Bishop Feehan added it only a few years ago. The NFHS says that 218 Massachusetts schools compete in field hockey, with a total of 6,743 athletes participating. What I found does not offer a breakdown for varsity, junior varsity or freshman athletes.

So if 41 boys are participating, that comes out to 0.6 percent (0.006). Even if there are more boys playing at the lower levels, the percentage is still negligible. 

That's not an invasion. That's not a caravan at the border. That's not the first sign of the apocalypse. It's not an ideal situation for either gender, but it's not the collapse of Western civilization, either.

I have to admit, I'm no expert in field hockey. I do know that in some countries, particularly India and Pakistan, field hockey is a men's sport. My high school sweetheart was briefly the goalie of the Mansfield High JV team before Title IX. I took a brief interest in the sport later in the 1970s because I was dating the coach of the Seekonk High team. Neither the relationship nor the interest lasted. But field hockey was a big part of the comprehensive coverage of local high school sports that we offered at my newspaper, so I didn't ignore it.

But in the last five years, in my new role as a play-by-play announcer for high school sports on local cable TV systems, I've seen more field hockey than I had in the previous 30 years combined. And I've marveled at the changes -- and not just the fact that the kids don't wear kilts for uniforms anymore.

Field hockey is much more athletic and much faster than I remember it from the 1970s. Artificial turf contributes to that, of course, but there are just better athletes playing the sport. There are still too many silly whistles stopping play too often, but it's a far more interesting sport to watch when teams play it well -- and we're blessed to have some very good teams in our area.

It was during my announcing of two local games recently that I saw another aspect of how the game has changed -- the velocity of the shots by some of these very athletic girls. I won't mention their names here because, again, I don't want to associate them with an unfortunate tragedy. But I can recall two instances where I actually reacted with shock in my voice at the velocity of the ball as it left the players' sticks. One of those shots might have caused a similar injury to what the D-R girl suffered if the goalie hadn't seen it coming and simply dropped to the ground.

Goggles aren't enough
protection in today's game.

Even before the unfortunate recent circumstance, I found myself wondering why after all these years, field hockey athletes don't wear helmets and face masks. That ball is every bit as hard as a hockey puck, and female hockey players wear helmets and masks and much more body padding. While the rules of field hockey discourage lifted shots, they won't always prevent that one that gets away from a shooter and turns into a rocket hell-bent for destruction.

At the very least, I hope the MIAA will look at this incident and see the need for increased safety equipment. It's not simply a boy-vs.-girl thing, because there are girls that could easily shatter teeth with their shots. Had this been the case on Thursday, and a girl's shot caused the injury, everyone involved would have felt just as terrible about it -- but it wouldn't have become a national story because it wouldn't have fit the Fox News narrative.

As I said, it's not an ideal situation. There is truth to the physical differences in the sexes and how that translates to athletic competition. But at the same time, it is virtually impossible for the state to legislate in favor of discrimination. Smarter minds than mine will need to find the solution.

Another thing that irritated me is that the conservative pundits are also trying to use this situation to further their GOP-approved vilification of transgender athletes, even though there's no hint whatsoever that a transgender athlete was involved.

The morning show "Fox and Friends" tried to rope Bill Runey into that morass this morning when they had him on as a guest to discuss the accident and his player's thoughtful response to the MIAA. Runey is well-schooled in media matters, and he wasn't duped into playing along with the interviewer's prodding, but this was one of those very irritating times that reminded me that Fox News is only in the "news" business to seize upon the ignorance and gullibility of a certain segment of America and turn it into frenzied support for the ultra-conservative agenda.

I've probably said or done my share of dumb things in my lifetime, and maybe it took me the full 70 years to reach a certain level of enlightenment. But I do know I have learned to try to put myself into the shoes of others before I pass judgment upon anyone or anything. And that's why it absolutely infuriates me that transgender individuals have become, at least in the latest conservative manifesto, the new enemy. I won't even repeat the accusations and insinuations that are voiced every day in conservative media because I find them reprehensible and totally in opposition to the Constitution's promise of equality for all Americans, emphasis upon "all."

I can't claim to have personal experience in transgender matters. All I can do is think about what it means at the most elemental level -- especially to the young man or woman that has, or is considering, transitioning to a different gender. What has that person experienced? What is it like to know that your heart and soul is telling you that you are actually something you're not? What kind of personal anguish has it caused to bring one to the ultimate decision of transition? And what about the emotions that have been experienced by other family members?

I can't answer those questions. I can only listen to those that have answered them, if they care to share. Otherwise, I don't ask questions about something that's not my business. I'd like to think that I assess individuals at face value, and that doesn't include X-rays of their innards.

Years ago, I covered an athlete that played basketball locally. A biological female, she played quite well and attained her share of accolades, and then went on to college and I lost touch with her. Many years later, I got a letter at my office from someone with the same last name and a male first name. I opened the envelope and read the letter -- it was from that athlete, who had transitioned from female to male and became a writer. He sent along a copy of a story he wrote about his personal conflicts as a younger person and why he transitioned, and included in the story was a mention of thanks to me for having treated him with respect and a sense of equality when he was female, even though it was not fashionable at the time for sportswriters to treat female athletes as equals to their male counterparts.

I was touched. I was happy this person understood my intention to support and encourage equal treatment of female athletes at the time when it was more personal and meaningful for him. And I was also happy that he was going forward in life within a vessel that felt right for him.

I suspect that 99 times out of 100, I could stand next to a transgender person and have no clue about his or her transitioning or what led that individual to follow that path. As I said, it's really none of my business. And I believe above all else that it's not the business of our government to be peering into the undershorts of anyone to see what reproductive equipment exists within before they're allowed to play sports, go to the bathroom, or anything that any other American can do without interference.

And even if I do know, so what? Does it affect me in the slightest? No. Who am I to pass judgment upon individuals that have become or are becoming the persons they believe they were intended to be? They deserve to be able to pursue personal happiness, just as I am, and not to face persecution.

The Declaration of Independence states, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." We're 247 years into this quest, and still, some believe that not all Americans are due these rights, whether because of gender, race, national origin, religious beliefs or sexual identity. 

I really wish I understood why. I wish others would as well.

We wrote the check, but is it at the expense of the Hulk?

The original mural of the Incredible Hulk inside Mansfield High's gymnasium.

Well, I'm absolutely stunned.

I went to Mansfield's special town meeting on Thursday night, fully expecting a battle for the combined $7 million needed to renovate the high school's football stadium, Alumni Field, and to replace the 53-year-old gym floor. But as it turned out, there was no battle. 

There wasn't even any debate. When the town moderator asked if there were any questions or comments from the 250 or so registered voters inside the MHS auditorium, not a single person went to the microphones to raise even a peep of protest over the expenditure. A vote was called, about 250 hands went into the air to vote yes, and that was that.

In fact, there was only one moment during the discussion of the article where any disapproval was even hinted among the crowd. As the assistant superintendent of schools explained that part of the renovation of the gym would include a complete re-painting of the gym walls and ceiling, he let it slip that the mural of the Incredible Hulk that has become the trademark of the James Albertini Memorial Gym over most of its 53-year life might not survive the paint brushes. An audible and unmistakable rumble of groans arose from the heart of the auditorium.

That would be a shame, although the Hulk has survived oblivion before. 

The 30-foot mural was originally painted on the south interior wall of the Albertini Gym in 1978 by Mansfield High alumnus Tom Palanza, and it survived for 36 years before repair work on the walls required new support beams to be put in place where the mural was, forcing replacement of cinder blocks and a repainting.

Former student Harrison Bateman
completed the newer mural.

.

Unwilling to surrender the school's association with the Hulk, which was the original creation of Marvel Comics head honcho Stan Lee and ace artist Jack Kirby, Mansfield High art students rallied to recreate most of Palanza's work on the opposite wall. The Hulk 2.0 was completed in 2014 -- maybe a little smaller, maybe a little less dynamic and fearsome in scope, but a worthy homage to the original, and much welcome to those that saw the character as representative of a crucial transitional period in Mansfield High School athletics.

In the 1970s, MHS sports had fallen upon hard times. Mansfield was the smallest school in the Hockomock League and was taking it on the chin in practically every sport, and the athletes needed something to rally around.

Mansfield already had a sports mascot -- the Green Hornet, chosen over "Marauders" in 1948 in honor of a very popular radio serial about a fellow named Britt Reid -- you know, the guy that fought injustice by day as a crusading newspaper publisher, and fought crime at night as the costumed hero called "The Green Hornet," teamed with his faithful Asian sidekick Kato, a master of the martial arts. There would be a later TV show on ABC that would try to capitalize upon the success of the campy "Batman" show, and an even worse movie in 2011 that made a total farce out of the characters.

But very few remember the story behind the Green Hornet of 1948. Mansfield is basically identified these days by an insect -- and only lately have they found a logo that truly represents the proper fighting spirit of Mansfield's teams without being too cartoonish. In the 1970s, however, most of the headlines about Mansfield involved phrasing that included words like "crushed," "stomped" and "squashed."

So, Hornet athletes of the time took a hard look at their plight. Palanza and his buddy, Paul Souza (of basketball and track fame) came up with a plan to embrace a new icon for Mansfield High. At that same time, CBS had debuted its "The Incredible Hulk" series based on the Marvel Comics character, and Palanza came up with an image that seized upon that show's popularity as well as honoring Jack Kirby's original concept.

At the time, Souza told Palanza he'd even spring for the paint to complete the project if the school didn't get on board with it. Fortunately, it did. 

The Hulk never really replaced the Hornet as Mansfield's sports identity, but that wasn't the intention. The school just needed an image that told opponents not to sleep on the teams playing here, or suffer the consequences. And over the next few years, the Hulk spawned several other murals across the Hockomock League. What had once been barren walls were suddenly graced with images of Rocketeers, Tigers, Bulldogs, Eagles and what have you. The Hulk blazed a trail for others to follow.

Mansfield has renewed its love for the Green Hornet as the fortunes of its teams have improved significantly in the 21st century, but I'm not sure people in town are prepared to consign Dr. Bruce Banner's alter ego to the mists of history.

This might look good on the gym wall.

Work on the gym is supposed to begin in the summer of 2024 and be ready for Hornet basketball the following December. It's going to be an extensive project because there's some asbestos in the support beams at the base of the floor that has to be removed, which drove up the price a little. It's not going to affect my tax rate, the town claims, because most of the money is coming out of surplus funds.

But if I read the room correctly Thursday night, the town may have to revisit whether "The Green Machine" should be erased by a broad brush of beige. 

And who knows? Maybe an enterprising soul might be tempted to inform Marvel Studios of Mansfield High School's 44-year-long infatuation with the Hulk. It can be argued, after all, there may be no more popular character in the Marvel Cinematic Universe right now than Mark Ruffalo's interpretation of the Green Goliath. With a couple of new Avengers movies in the works for the next few years, the studios are always looking for unusual publicity opportunities.

Maybe they'll even spring for the paint!

Time to open wallets and fix the facilities.

The floor of Mansfield High's gymnasium is 53 years old and needs to be replaced.

Tonight in my hometown, there's a town meeting that will decide a lot of financial expenditures, not the least of which are approximately $5.4 million for upgrades to the high school football stadium, and another $1 million for replacement of the gymnasium floor.

That's a lot of money. Hey, I remember that in 1971, the Patriots' home stadium in nearby Foxboro (called Schaefer Stadium after the beer) cost $6.8 million to build. It seated 62,000 people. Mansfield's Alumni Field seats maybe 2,000. Of course, translated from 1971 dollars, Schaefer Stadium would have cost about $51.7 million to build today, and it would still pale before the initial investment of $350 million to build Gillette Stadium as well as the $300 million Robert Kraft has since shelled out for improvements to the 2002-vintage successor.

Also costing a lot of money is the replacement to the gym floor. I actually was one of the first MHS students to set foot on it on a game night after it opened in January 1970, as it was my duty to set up the scorer's table for the night's basketball action. That's still the same floor. It has survived 53 years of basketball, wrestling, volleyball, gym classes, floods, auxiliary baskets falling from the wall to it, countless resurfacing and the replacement of bleachers, and it is now paper-thin. Indeed, the paint for the lines and the varnish are thicker than the wood, and it can no longer be sanded down any further.

There was a time when that wouldn't have mattered much. We were pretty pathetic in basketball for many years. But over the last three decades or so, the fortunes of the Mansfield boys' and girls' basketball teams have improved significantly. Both teams are regular state tournament participants and the boys have been to state championship games three times since 2013, winning the coveted Division 1 title in 2018.

I do have to say, and I mentioned this in a letter to the superintendent of schools recently, this town can be proud of how Mansfield High has been maintained. The James Albertini Memorial Gymnasium (named for Mansfield's only Vietnam casualty) is still a showcase at age 53, and looks newer and fresher than many gyms built much more recently. And I'd know, because I've been visiting gyms all over this state since 1969 as a sportswriter, and now as a play-by-play announcer. 

I think it's fair to reward the kids of future teams for their hard work to give them a floor that's not going to disintegrate under their feet.

Mansfield's Alumni Field needs a facelift.

The Alumni Field renovations did raise my eyebrows over the price tag, but there's a reason. First, the artificial turf has reached the end of its lifespan after a little more than a decade. A new field will be safer, employing newer technologies that weren't available when it was first set down. The running track also needs to be replaced in its entirety, which means that it will be torn up to the gravel base and new asphalt and a running surface will be applied.

A new scoreboard is also in the works (which feels like déjà vu to me after North Attleboro's battle over an expensive new one), new LED lighting will be installed, and bleachers will be extended the length of the field (instead of just east of the 50-yard line) on the home side. It's a long story why the stands on opposite sides of the field face empty space on the other side, and I won't bore you with it.

Again, Mansfield has one of the consistently most successful football programs in the commonwealth. I can understand turning Alumni Field -- which was only going to be a practice field when first opened in 2001 -- into a better home for all Hornet teams that play there.

They aren't addressing one glaring drawback of the field, though, and that's the press box.

There is one there, but it was built as an afterthought and funded by the local cable access company for its purposes and little else. It's grown old, it's too small to allow any media other than the local cable crew, and its wooden structure is starting to rot.

As I told the superintendent, "When I worked for The Sun Chronicle (1977-2018), I was told right from the beginning by then-athletic director Margaret Conaty that the “press box” was not for use by the actual press – that it was basically the sole domain of Mansfield Cable Access and not under her control. Print media that may have needed to shield themselves from the elements could enter only if they remained in the back of the box, with hardly any access to the windows to have an adequate view of the field. And because there was no room inside the box for additional announcers or cameras – as well as a first-dibs situation in the viewing area on the roof for the Mansfield coaching staff (and maybe visiting coaches, although their access was limited) -- visiting cable access crews were basically denied the opportunity to televise games from there unless they could set up in the stands, surrounded by fans.

"I’ve been on both sides of the issue," I continued, "and I can say without hesitation that Mansfield has been the among the least accommodating schools to visiting print and electronic media – and it pains me to say that, because I understand that people at MHS have wanted to be more helpful but are restricted by the facilities."

Yes, the media has changed a lot in the years since my tenure at the local daily. Smaller papers rarely staff games, but the larger papers still send reporters when the games warrant the attention. But now, cable television has become more interested in offering coverage. Some systems will send crews home and away, and that's what we occasionally do when I work for Mansfield Cable Access in the winter doing the basketball calls. But most of my work in the fall is for North Attleborough Community Television (North TV), calling the games from King Philip Regional High in Wrentham. And we sometimes get ambitious enough to follow KP on the road.

In 2019, I almost was able to negotiate a situation where North TV might be able to put a single camera on the roof of the Mansfield press box for a playoff game between KP and Mansfield, and our two announcers could operate out of the stands if we could get electricity to our mixing board. But that fell apart because with all of the coaches up there, there would not be enough room for one lone cameraman.

In recent years, Attleboro, North Attleboro and Foxboro have renovated their fields or built new ones, and the plans included spacious press boxes that could accommodate all of the official local personnel (timekeepers, announcers, coaching staffs) as well as a healthy attendance of print and electronic media. Mansfield should investigate those structures and see if something similar might be worth considering for the future of Alumni Field.

I know that a stand-alone appropriation of a cool million or so for a press box might raise the ire of the more frugal souls that go to town meetings to complain about every penny spent by the town. I also imagine that the right-wing-leaning element in town (we do have a few) would become apoplectic over the notion that the "fake news" media should get any consideration at all. Had the press box been included in the initial renovation cost, however, I doubt it would have raised little more than a few peeps in protest.

As it is, I'm really wondering how things will go at tonight's meeting. Some might balk at the field renovations and replacement, claiming that athletes should play on the grass that God made for them. The critics will have to be reminded that the upkeep of that grass costs a lot more over a 10-12 year span than a properly-maintained artificial surface, which can take a lot more punishment. But they probably won't be swayed. It will take a lot of old Hornets like me to carry the day, I suspect.

And indeed, once a Hornet, always a Hornet. Even if it makes my tax bill go up.
 

Foxboro school board does the right thing ... sort of.

The school committee of the town of Foxborough (henceforth to be spelled here as Foxboro, which is how most people know it), took three votes Tuesday night regarding the school system's sports nickname of "Warriors" and its accompanying logo, which you will recognize as an almost exact duplicate of the Washington NFL franchise's helmet logo from 1972 through 2019.

I did not attend the meeting, but I did watch it on Foxboro Cable Access and I'm reporting on it here because I don't believe the local newspaper's current deadlines allow for next-day reporting of night meetings anymore. So, here's what happened.

The first vote was essentially to affirm that "Warriors" is the official nickname of all FHS athletic teams. It passed by a 5-0 vote. Board members believe that it was the first time in the history of the school system that a sports nickname actually received official sanction by a municipal board. 

Days are numbered for this logo.

The second vote, summarized here from the original wording because I can say it more effectively in fewer words, was to eliminate all future use of Native American imagery in any logo or symbol representing the school, and to phase out the current logo's use when items bearing it would be normally replaced. The motion also prohibited boosters clubs or other outside entities from using the logo on uniforms donated to the school -- although it was noted before the vote that the school system does not accept gifted uniforms, but would accept payment for uniforms that the school department would then design and order.

That passed 3-1 with one member abstaining, following a drawn-out discussion that was marked by a total lack of understanding of the motion's meaning by at least two of the board members, a lot of hand-wringing and agonizing by another, and frequent eruptions of pique by members of the audience, including accusations that Chair Richard Pearson was bullying his fellow members to vote a certain way. I didn't see that, but opinions tend to vary.

And the third vote was to create a committee of students, teachers, athletic department officials and other interested parties within the town to come up with designs for a new logo over the space of about a year. This motion passed 4-0-1, but not without more confusion -- and the puzzling suggestion by one particularly agonized member that said committee could still come up with designs that included Native American imagery. The previous vote clearly prohibited all future uses of ANY Native American imagery, not just the ripped-off version of the Redskins' old logo that adorned Foxboro football helmets since 1983, but that one member just didn't seem to get it.

Of course, a future school board could vote to rescind that ban -- and brother, what a can of worms that would open.

I will refrain from too much personal comment here for several reasons, not the least of which include the fact that I haven't been a Foxboro resident since 2015, and that I still work for Foxboro Cable Access, occasionally announcing girls' basketball games. But I will say without hesitation that I believe that from start to finish, the Foxboro school board has handled the issue very poorly -- and on Tuesday, the members' inability to express themselves clearly and understand the actions they were in the process of taking achieved little more than to further infuriate those in attendance that weren't going to be satisfied unless the board totally capitulated to their demands to keep the Redskins' logo.

Maybe they felt intimidated. I believe at least three members of the board (no names here; no need to point fingers) were clearly intimidated by what they must have perceived as a hostile crowd. But it still amazes me that two members clearly did not understand the votes they were taking and how each vote affected the others in turn. 

As it stands, I believe Foxboro has done the right thing. The board essentially voted to disassociate "Warriors" from the Native American imagery. That is important, because if the state legislature ever passes a bill banning all native imagery for school nicknames, mascots and logos (as New York and Maine have), Foxboro can argue that "Warriors" is merely a name and not a characterization of the indigenous peoples.

This could suffice for a while.

The plan is not to rip the logos off the helmets of the football team before Friday's game against Stoughton. Logos would be replaced as the items upon which they appear need to be replaced or refurbished. The helmet logos would remain through this season, and then disappear before next season. The athletic department has already been using a stylized blue and gold "F" to represent itself in just about all necessary uses of a logo, and that could be slapped on the helmets (decals aren't too expensive) until someone comes up with something better.

The logo on the gym floor would probably be removed during that floor's next refinishing. And at present, as it was said during the meeting, the hand-me-down uniforms of the JV girls' tennis team are the only FHS uniforms that still have the logo on them. Signage around the schools will be replaced as needed. And the championship banners in the gym might not be replaced for a very long time, if ever -- after all, most of Walpole's old banners still say "Rebels" on them (except field hockey, as those teams are called "Porkers"), and there is no move afoot to replace those banners. New ones in Walpole will say Timberwolves. New banners in Foxboro can still say "Warriors." 

And yes, it is a good move to get the community involved in designing a new logo -- if residents remain up in arms about losing a logo that wasn't of their own design in the first place. But under no circumstances should that committee dare to consider anything remotely related to Native American culture. That's just a one-way ticket to further division in the community and possible punitive action by the state down the road.

I'll say it again, the Foxboro school board should have done exactly what King Philip Regional High School did. They simply made the decision to sever ties to Native American imagery and remove all semblance of it from public view. And that's not easy for a school district that was named after the late-1600s chief of the Wampanoags, Metacomet, who changed his name to "King Philip" to appease English settlers.

This year's KP football helmets no longer have the feathered spear logo on the sides, and hardly anyone noticed. I still think KP might eventually be in a world of hurt at some point if the legislature comes down upon any form of Native American imagery, because nothing is more native than naming the entire school district after a tribal chief. And I won't even bring up King Philip's War.

I guess you can say that in KP's case, it seemed like a good idea back in 1958. 

So was it for Foxboro in 1983 when Jack Martinelli chose the Redskins' logo as a way of dressing up his football team's helmets. But times change. This is 2023. And despite all the crying and gnashing of teeth over lost logos that will characterize the community in the weeks and months to come, it won't change the march of time.

In the meantime, and hopefully for a long time to come, "Go Warriors!"

Farewell to the Summer of Bunnies.

One of my backyard bunnies uses my camping chair as shade during a hot summer day.

I have never claimed to be a tough guy, a rough-and-tumble woodsman that can wrestle a grizzly bear into submission, level a forest of sequoias with a rusty, dull axe and make a mighty river change its course with merely a disdainful glance.

No, I'm a creature of the suburbs. My exposure to nature has been limited at best. We had a cat once during my youth, but I was so allergic to it, I got nosebleeds. My parents had to put the cat down, although they told me it ran away -- and they didn't tell me until I was in my 40s what really happened. I wasn't pleased.

My home is too close to the center of a busy town for there to be deer or coyotes wandering about. But I have become content in my golden years to watch nature's more innocent creatures frolicking in my yard. Last year, I had more squirrels calling the yard home than I knew what to do with. I've had a woodchuck claiming residence out there as well, but that goofy thing is too skittish in the presence of a lone human to provide much entertainment. Chipmunks, raccoons and the usual contingent of blue jays, cardinals and crows serve their purposes (and relieve me of the storehouse of stale bread that accumulates in the house of a single guy that doesn't always finish the loaf).

But this summer was special. This summer was the Summer of Bunnies.

Eastern cottontails made my yard their home.

I've always had a warm spot in my heart for the little fuzzbuckets, ever since I stumbled upon a nest of baby buns in the backyard when I was a mere tyke and my parents cautioned me to leave the nest alone, so as to not scare the mama bunny away and thus interrupt the development of the little ones. I respected the instructions, although one day I returned to the nest to see if the little buns were growing and found instead that the nest had been vacated. They had grown up and went off to find their way in the world. I was heartbroken.

I also have a close friend who is a bunny person. She used to keep a pair of domesticated white rabbits, and she loved them dearly, but upkeep became a problem as her job kept her away from them for long hours. Bunnies that become pets are very dependent upon their owners for not only food and shelter, but also for love and affection. It was a very sad day for her when she had to give them up. And yet when we used to go down to the Cape for vacations, she would always make a point of scheduling a daily drive to the beach to see all the bunnies running near the shore around 5 p.m., and she would shriek with joy when one would appear.

This summer, a lot of people noticed that there were more bunnies than ever before in the backyards of New England. It's been a banner year for our two predominant local breeds, the New England Cottontail and the Eastern Cottontail. The latter was not native to the region originally, but it has thrived and I'm of the belief that my backyard buns are Eastern Cottontails. 

Around April, before the grass turned green, I started to see the bunnies hopping around the backyard and foraging in the still-brown grass for their meals. But as the grass greened and the weather turned warmer, the bunny population began to resemble rush hour on the Southeast Expressway. There were days where I'd see six of the little scamps doing their thing in the backyard, and maybe another couple running in front of the house or crossing the street to the neighbor's yard.

Always wary, but the buns accepted me.

Of course, I wanted to start interacting with them somehow. More than anything else, I wanted them to recognize me as just a big, goofy guy and a friend that posed no threat to them. So I would try to be as stealthy as possible when leaving one of my house's two doors to the backyard, and I'd make my way to a camping chair in the middle of the yard and just watch.

Some of the bunnies would run for the hills. Others would look up from their dinner patch and be vigilant for a short while, then go back to munching on the grass. And a couple of the more courageous ones, once getting the hint that I was parked in the chair for the long run and not going to leap out and chase them, might extend their dinner table range to about 6 feet from me.

As the summer progressed, I'm convinced that most of my buns grew comfortable with my presence in their midst. They might only pause in their eating for a few seconds upon my appearance, and they felt more at ease in running closer to the chair as they basked in the summer sunshine. And gradually, I started to recognize them from their coloring or their mannerisms.

One particular bunny, for instance, took a liking to a worn-out camping chair that I left close to the side of the house. He (or she, I never knew which) scraped out a little depression in the ground below the chair, and used it as a cooling spot during the warmest days we had in July and August. The bunny would lay flat in the little depression, legs extended straight back, and the shade and the coolness of the exposed earth underneath the chair must have felt like a little slice of paradise during those steamy days.

Seriously, how cute is this?

There was one smaller bunny that was particularly fearless. It would hop to maybe just 2-3 feet away from me and sit up on its hind legs, front legs dangling down in front, just checking me out for a while as if to say hello before resuming its quest for a tasty meal of fresh grass.

My garage has doors that open to both the front and back yards, and I would open both and encourage the buns to use the shade and cool cement floor as shelter or a respite from the heat, as well as a quicker access to the front yard. It was just so much fun to see them responding to the invitations I left without trying to impose my will on them. I didn't feed them; bunnies are notoriously picky about what they eat under just about any circumstances, and I thought it was better for them to embrace their wildness and not become dependent upon me for their dinners -- although I must admit, I considered planting some lettuce and other veggies for their consumption. So many people whine and moan about bunnies and other animals eating their gardens, but I'm perfectly happy with the produce at Stop & Shop. Sadly, I did not inherit my mother's green thumb, but maybe I'll read up on backyard agriculture before next spring and maybe they'll enjoy the wider menu options.

There was one moment during the summer when something happened to tell me that I had indeed made some sort of connection with at least one of the buns. I was sitting on the stoop of my porch's back door, just watching the fearless bunny chowing down with no fear of me and nary a care in the world. But suddenly, a formation of Canada geese appeared in the sky above my yard, honking away and making quite the racket. The little bunny was immediately fearful of the noise and the large flying animals above. 

I don't believe geese are predators of rabbits. But I imagine the rabbits are instinctively fearful of the possibility of death from above from large winged creatures. I have a variety of hawks that call the nearby pond their home, and I've had bald eagles perch in the larger maples briefly before going on their merry way. Both are always looking for tasty bunny snacks.

The little bunny started to run away, but then suddenly stopped, looked at me, and made a quick sprint to within a couple of feet from me -- as if to show an awareness that it would be safer next to the big human than running out in the open.

Gradually, their relaxation became my own.

Of course, I talked to the little bunny. I told the poor thing it would be safe with me, that I wouldn't let anything happen to it. Silly of me? Well, there is no evidence that the Eastern Cottontail understands English. But maybe, just maybe, the bun felt a little sense of reassurance in my voice before the honking geese disappeared into the distance.

As the weeks passed, I began to notice that the number of bunnies in my yard was starting to dwindle. There are a variety of predators wandering through the yards at night, including a couple of feral cats that roam the underbrush to service their primal hunting urges. The bunny population went from six, to five, to three and then just two. And one of those had two very obvious talon wounds on its neck -- and I may have seen the crime committed. One recent afternoon, I saw a hawk swoop out of a tree and take to the air again with a small animal in its grip, but I couldn't tell at the time if the prey was a rabbit or a squirrel. When the second bunny returned to feed close to my house a few days later, the wounds were obvious. But the bun was undeterred in its quest to chow down in preparation for the coming winter.

In the last week, there has been just one bunny in the yard. It's my courageous little bun, still happy and comfortable to nibble on the grass close to the house where it feels most safe. The bun's fur is poofed out more than before, obviously preparing a winter coat. It still recognizes me, even though I'm busier now and I don't make it out to the backyard before sundown as much as I did during the longer days. But soon, I'm sure, the little fuzzbucket will disappear into a hiding place.

A special summer has come to an end.

Our wild bunnies don't live very long. They are under constant attack from natural predators and man-made ones as well. My spirits sink each time I find one on the side of the road that didn't make it through the traffic. But of course, these precious little animals reproduce at an amazing rate, and the photos I may have taken six years ago of frolicking bunnies might be photos of the great-great-great grandparents of the ones that charmed my heart and soothed my soul this summer.  

 

A few weeks ago, I posted a photo of one of my bun chums on Instagram, and the first comment under the photo was from someone I didn't know who called me a "fag." Now, I have no idea why that individual chose to refer to me with the British slang for cigarettes, but I did get the notion that the poster felt that my love of bunnies somehow represented a flaw in my masculinity.

As if it's anyone's business, I have no doubts about my identity, sexual or otherwise. If anything, the comment was indicative of that individual's own shortcomings as a human being. If I cared enough about that unknown person's opinion of me, I might be compelled to understand why he is so miserable an individual to want to mock me for my love of these precious creatures. But I don't. He can go fuck himself with a cattle prod for all I care.

The Summer of Bunnies brought me happiness and inner peace -- and after 70 years on this planet, a lot more than the bunnies get to enjoy, I am thankful that they chose me as a participant in their wonderful, precious lives.

Time for Foxboro to decide.

The proverbial feces is about to hit the fan in Foxboro, where the debate over the use of Native American imagery to identify its high school athletic teams will be debated this week, and then decided next week.

The School Committee will have a forum Tuesday night at the Ahern School for residents to offer three-minute presentations on the topic. Then on Oct. 2, at the committee's regular meeting, the issue will be put to a binding vote.

The current Foxboro High sports logo.

There are many ways this can go. Either the town will stop using the logo that was formerly the intellectual property of the NFL franchise in Washington, D.C., or it will also drop the nickname "Warriors," or maybe it will keep "Warriors" and cease any connection to Native American imagery -- something recently done by the King Philip Regional High School athletic program.

The open forum has been limited to Foxboro residents only, although an exception was made for those in the METCO program which brings inner-city youngsters into the Foxboro school system. Would-be speakers had to register to speak, and the School Committee intends to keep a tight rein on the proceedings.

I would have loved to put in my two cents' worth on this issue. I've covered Foxboro sports regionally since the late 1960s and then post-college at The Sun Chronicle and The Patriot Ledger of Quincy from 1977 through 2018. Today, I do occasional work for Foxboro Cable Access, having called several girls' basketball games for Cable 8 Sports including last season's Division 2 state championship game. And I lived in the town from 2002 through 2015. But this is my only forum for personal opinion now, and while I may be as knowledgeable on the subject as anyone that will speak on Tuesday, it's not my place to ask to do so.

Had I the opportunity, however, I may have opened by telling the School Committee that they really botched this process. 

For at least a couple of years prior to the current controversy, Foxboro was already phasing out the Native American imagery. They've done it quietly and without calling attention to it. In most correspondence regarding the athletic program, the former logo of the Washington Redskins, which the NFL team adopted in the early 1970s and didn't appear on Foxboro football helmets until 1983, had disappeared in favor of a stylized blue and gold F. Gradually, the logo also disappeared from the few athletic uniforms that previously had an embroidered version of it. About the only place where the logo was still in use was the football helmets.

This also identifies Foxboro sports.

I have a feeling that an order could have been issued quietly from above to remove the Redskins logo and to replace it with the same logo being used on school correspondence, and no one would have been the wiser. There may have been a few grumbles at first when someone actually noticed the change, but eventually, everyone would have gone on with their lives and dealt with far more pressing issues, and it wouldn't have become a public bitch fest -- which it has already become, given the petitions circulating around town and the signs touting "Warrior Pride" on front lawns.

But no, the school committee brought this up several months ago and had a series of meetings, and public pronouncements of angst attracted the Boston TV stations' cameras to chronicle yet another battle over political correctness brewing in the commonwealth. It now has a life of its own.

Even my former newspaper has chimed in. They've suggested in different editorials to drop the logo, to drop "Warriors," and even to rename the Foxboro teams after the professional football team that calls the town home. Personally, I don't believe there's a lot of sentiment in favor of the latter -- especially now that the Brady-less Patriots can barely beat the New York Jets. 

The fact is, this could have all been handled quietly and with sensitivity to Native American culture by dropping the Redskins logo that was ripped off Washington's helmets in 2020. They could have kept "Warriors," as King Philip has, without the triggering imagery.

I imagine the oratory will be emotional on Tuesday. There will be townies that will decry wokeness and blame Communists and so on, and there will be well-meaning individuals that will try to point out that the younger generation of Foxboro students are rejecting the old stereotypes and trying to show more respect to other races and other cultures.

Foxboro, after all, is changing. Once one of the whitest communities in the commonwealth, the student population (currently about 2,500) is 74.6 percent white, 8.6 percent Hispanic, 7.5 percent African-American and 5.2 percent Asian. The numbers from the state Department of Education also indicate that Foxboro's student population is 0.2 percent Native American. The kids don't do the tomahawk chop at their games and they probably don't have the same feelings for the old logo as their parents did -- or maybe even their grandparents.

Now that this has become a full-blown issue, I don't see a happy ending for those that want to embrace the current logo, and maybe even the nickname. Natick, Barnstable, Nashoba Regional, Taconic High of Pittsfield and several others have either changed their nicknames or dropped Native American imagery, or both. Walpole dropped "Rebels" and Westford Academy altered "Grey Ghosts" to simply "Ghosts" because their nicknames carried the hint of Confederate taint. Stonehill College and Bryant University made clean sweeps of old nicknames and imagery. Others like Tewksbury, Braintree and Dartmouth have battled tooth-and-nail to keep theirs.

My compromise for Foxboro, because it has increased visibility from the Patriots' presence in town, would be to drop the logo and keep Warriors -- and then hope that some attention-seeking lawmaker doesn't again file a bill in the state legislature seeking a complete ban of nicknames and logos with even a hint of Native American imagery. It's already happened four times in the last decade, and one of these days, one of those bills may make it out of committee and force everyone to adopt non-offensive monikers such as "Screaming Turtles" or "River Rabbits."

I feel for Foxboro. I really do. Nobody likes to be told to do something. But maybe we should remember that "Redskins" was a slur from the very beginning, and its sports use originated right in our own backyard, with the Boston Redskins NFL franchise that adopted the name in 1933 and kept it when it moved to Washington in 1937. I would not want the former logo of that team to be associated with my community solely for those reasons.

This Hornet offends no one.

But then again, I don't have to worry about that in my hometown. In the 1940s, one of the more popular serials on national radio was "The Green Hornet," stories of a crusading newspaper publisher named Britt Reid that fought crime at night as a costumed hero, with his trusty Asian sidekick Kato at his side. When Mansfield High School students were polled to adopt a nickname, they voted overwhelmingly for "Green Hornets," with "Marauders" a distant second. 

To date, nobody I know has been offended by "Green Hornets" or the accompanying insect imagery -- although the students of the 1970s embraced The Incredible Hulk as an alternate mascot (well ahead of the curve of Hulk's current popularity) without changing the nickname. But fortunately, the students of the 1940s were wise not to create a mascot based on the Kato character. We'd be in a world of hurt over that, I suspect.

I wish my friends in Foxboro the best of luck in settling this without too many ruffled feathers. I'd have a hard time thinking of the Foxboro Warriors as anything else. And I think there's still time for the art of compromise to preserve "Warriors" for a long time, no matter what the state legislature does. I'll probably tune into Foxboro Cable Access to see how the battle is waged.

Sad to be losing 'Winning Time.'

Larry Bird, Red Auerbach, Magic Johnson and Dr. Jerry Buss in "Winning Time."

Yes, I know it was basically pro-Los Angeles Lakers propaganda.

Yes, I know it was highly dramatized and that it played fast and loose with the truth.

Yes, I know that it was intended as entertainment, and not as a documentary.

I still very much enjoyed "Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty" on HBO. And I'm sad that the network I first paid to see as Home Box Office in 1976 has decided to cancel it with so much of the story untold.

HBO has not been kind to my favorite shows of late. Most recently, they decided not to renew the grittier take on "Perry Mason" that was a tour de force for Welsh actor Matthew Rhys (late of "The Americans") in the role that Raymond Burr originated on the late-1950s CBS show of the same name. And now, they've blown up "Winning Time," based on the book by former sportswriter Jeff Pearlman about the emergence of the franchise under the frenetic "Showtime" ownership of Dr. Jerry Buss.

The show got two seasons, but it may have gotten off on the wrong foot right off the bat by changing the name from that of the book -- after all, "Showtime" is the name of a competing, CBS-owned premium cable network. And in many ways, the cable Showtime has been kicking HBO's ass with quality programs for a while now, so the Warner Bros./Discovery empire was not about to give CBS free publicity. 

Kind of like the Lakers and the Celtics. But I digress.

The fictional LA Lakers of 1984

"Winning Time" opened on March 6, 2022, with Earvin "Magic" Johnson (played admirably and endearingly by newcomer Quincy Isaiah) learning for the first time of his HIV diagnosis inside a hospital examination room. That was certainly enough to pull me in from the start -- but little did I know that we'd never revisit that moment despite its importance to the entire Lakers saga because the series would end abruptly on Sunday night. As I said in a social media post, that left an extinction-level crater in the plot for all time.

As the series unfolded, we were introduced to quite a few compelling, if exaggerated, characters -- John C. Reilly (whose gifts as a likeable character actor keep him working steadily) as the flamboyant team owner whose intricate comb-over must have been Donald Trump's inspiration; Jason Segal as the out-of-his-element coach Paul Westhead; Adrien Brody in a steadily more appealing portrayal of player-turned-announcer-turned-coach Pat Riley; Jason Clarke as a foul-mouthed and wound-too-tight Jerry West; DeVaughn Nixon (Laker guard Norm Nixon's son) as his father; Solomon Hughes as the gruff, aging Kareem Abdul-Jabbar; Sean Patrick Small as a surprisingly believable Larry Bird; Michael Chiklis as Red Auerbach (a great villain for this tale if ever there was one); and Hadley Robinson as Jeanie Buss, the owner's daughter, who was starting to emerge as the heir apparent to the Laker legacy before the premature demise of the series ended the storyline.

Jason Clarke as the fictionalized Jerry West.

Almost immediately upon the show's debut, the critics started chirping with their all-too-pious nitpicks over the accuracy of the subject matter. At the top of that list was the portrayal of Jerry West, whose lawyers demanded apologies and retractions regarding the over-the-top portrayal by Clarke as the ex-Laker star and eventual general manager. I've seen more than my share of sportswriters that covered the Lakers -- even the great Bob Ryan, whose coverage of the Celtics of that era is the stuff of legend -- offering testimony that the "real" Jerry West was not the cartoon figure he was portrayed as in "Winning Time."

Well, I'm sure that's so. But once I got the feel of this show, I didn't much care. I wasn't looking for a Ken Burns documentary. I was looking for something to make me laugh and keep me watching -- and listening to the Jerry West character unleashing megaton-level tirades against coaches, players and even Dr. Buss kept me coming back.

Besides, seeing that incorporated into this long, lingering wet kiss to the Lakers of the early 1980s helped me to forget the indignities heaped upon Boston and the Celtics in the name of dramatic license.

Of course, the show portrayed the Celtics and Auerbach as entitled and condescending. Given that the franchise absolutely dominated the NBA in the years before anyone really cared about pro basketball, perhaps it was deserved. It certainly served the narrative.

Yes, I quibbled with the portrayal of Boston basketball fans and all Bostonians in general as racist assholes. That's just too familiar and too easy a stereotype that screenwriters use to set the scene of anything involving Boston. We're either all hoodlums from Charlestown or the bastard sons of Whitey Bulger, and we all speak with the flattest R's and all extend the word "there" to two or three syllables, and I'm just fucking sick of it. By the way, all Italian-Americans are mafioso, as well.

But again, it was just a story. I didn't lose any sleep over it. I may have been more upset that they absolutely blew the rare casting and use of Celtics play-by-play legend Johnny Most during the narrative. Johnny was a unique character in real life, no getting around that, but what "Winning Time" presented was unrecognizable to me.

Sean Patrick Small and Quincy Isaiah as Larry and Magic.

At the same time, I thought as the show progressed into its second season and matured in its narrative, it took great pains to present a more balanced and relatable version of Larry Bird to its Laker-friendly audience. One of the episodes this season compared and contrasted the personal and private lives of Bird and Johnson as they faced both triumph and tragedy on the road to an eventual battle-of-the-titans showdown that they both wanted and needed to legitimize their legacies.

Dyed-in-the-wool Angelinos probably still hated Larry Bird after that episode, but I have to believe they may have respected him more after getting a glimpse of what made him what he was. And even if it was fictionalized, it was still worthwhile to watch.

After two seasons, I really came to appreciate that "Winning Time," while intended to lionize the Lakers of the 1980s, wasn't afraid to show a few warts as well. There was a lot of in-house tension both on the court and off it, and the off-court stories (even if wildly exaggerated) are what fueled my continued interest in the narrative. I particularly enjoyed John C. Reilly's frequent breaking of the fourth wall to converse with viewers about Dr. Buss' occasionally slap-dash motivations. But at the end of the day, learning that the show had been canceled left me feeling like waiting all day to hit the free shrimp at the end of the press box buffet line, only to find they're run out by the time I got there.

The series ended happily for Celtics fans, with Bird & Co. winning the 1984 title and leaving the Lakers to sulk in the old Garden's locker room. (And as an aside, how about that CGI? The old scoreboard, the tiered upper balconies, the banners in the rafters ... they really made it look as if the old Garden had been reconstructed and used for filming the basketball scenes. Kudos!)

But that clearly wasn't where it supposed to end.

Season 3, I'm told, was supposed to be about the Lakers' redemption. But there are other topics I'd have wanted to see. For instance, it's now well-known that Bird and Johnson left their personal animus behind when they filmed a commercial for Converse shoes in the 1984 offseason. They later wrote a book together (with former Globe writer Jackie MacMullan) about the formation and strength of their friendship. Would we have seen that reach the small screen? I also wonder if the show would have reached Dr. Buss' losing battle with lung cancer and the eventual groundbreaking succession of Jeanie Buss as the team's owner.

And of course, there was that opening sequence about Magic's HIV diagnosis. We never will see how "Winning Time" would have treated that.

And that's a damn shame. 

The whole thing may not have been entirely true, but then again, Donald Trump was our president for four miserable years. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction. But at least fiction is still more entertaining.

The Owner's Box, Ep. 49

Norwood hoop coach Kristen McDonnell makes her fourth appearance on the podcast.

A good podcast is usually the result of having good guests. So it is for Episode 49 of The Owner's Box, in which I welcomed Norwood High School girls' basketball coach Kristen McDonnell to Fulton Pond Studios (virtually, at least) for her fourth appearance on the show.

It was the first time in 53 months that we've been together on the podcast, so we had a lot to talk about. We discussed her transition back to coaching girls from a successful stint with the boys' team, during which she led Norwood to a state title game. She also explained her innovative summer program of "pickup basketball" for high school girls, and she even offered me a few tips about what to expect if I get a knee replacement.

It's always a pleasure to talk hoops with Kristen, who is as successful and knowledgeable a coach as there is in Massachusetts these days. I hope you'll enjoy listening to it as much as we did recording it.