Ponderous thoughts I was pondering ...

That's me on the left, charting a football game from the old Memorial Park press box.

Ponderous thoughts I was pondering while awaiting the promised downpours that may transform my yard from the consistency of your Shredded Wheat breakfast to something that's once again green and full of life ...

**As I drove past Memorial Park in Mansfield earlier today, I noticed something was missing.

Even from the distance between Park Street and the field where the Mansfield High football team had played from the 1930s until the opening of Alumni Field behind the high school in 2001, I could see that our old press box was gone.

I'm not sure when it was demolished, but it had to be fairly recently. Indeed, just a few weeks ago I drove past the old ballyard where I once played varsity baseball and noticed how badly the press box had fallen into disrepair.

That's not the first time that had happened, however.

When Memorial Park was first built as a Work Projects Administration development at the height of the Great Depression, several stone-and-mortar structures were constructed ringing the baseball diamond and football field to serve as locker rooms and restrooms. The largest structure was a giant bandstand behind the south end zone of the football gridiron -- and all of these structures remain in place today, nearly 90 years after the park's opening.

Permanent bleachers were not part of the original plan because the field was to be used for both football and baseball. The east sideline, which served as the home side, featured assembled (and frequently replaced) grandstands built of steel and wood, while during football season, temporary stands were erected in the midst of the baseball infield to serve visiting fans, and then disassembled at the close of the football season.

In the 1950s, the park added a large manually-operated scoreboard behind the north end zone, and a small wooden press box that was elevated behind the home stands. But by the time I reached high school in the fall of 1968, the manual scoreboard had long since been abandoned, and the old press box was torn down for being both unsafe and an eyesore.

The town's recreation department, which operated the field independently of the school department, sank some money into the field at about the same time. A new electronic scoreboard replaced the rotting structure in the north end zone, and a free-standing press box was built with a cinder-block foundation and three separate rooms to house the clock operator and public-address announcer, media members and home-team coaches. And it was all painted in spiffy Hornet green.

I remember feeling great pride that, as a fledgling sports reporter for the weekly Mansfield News, I would have a chance to view the field from a brand new perch once the 1969 football season began. I was actually hoping to be the public-address announcer as well -- yes, I had the voice for it even then -- but the athletic director gave that job to his son instead. That was my first introduction to nepotism.

But it didn't take long for my euphoria over having a new base of operations to be dashed.

A few weeks into the season, a group of burnout punks -- and we had a lot of those in Mansfield back in those days -- decided to take out their insecurities on the brand new press box. They absolutely trashed it -- kicking holes in all of the particle board and plywood walls, ripping out electrical connections, stomping holes in the floorboards, pouring out the contents of several beer cans everywhere, and the pièce de résistance -- several of these sub-human slugs went as far as to defecate repeatedly in all three of the rooms.

The only thing these louts couldn't damage was the cinder-block foundation.

It was feared at first that the new structure would have to be declared a total loss and then razed, but the town bit the bullet and rebuilt it. They even used sturdier building materials the second time around to serve as a deterrent to future vandalism by the punks that roamed the town under the cover of darkness. Increased police patrols in the vicinity of the park also helped.

Eventually, I got to use the new press box before completing my high school career and heading to college. It was later named for the former athletic director that gave his son the announcing job -- and in retrospect, I wouldn't have had the ability to handle it and to chart the game for my newspaper coverage anyway -- and it served the Hornet football team and the town's youth leagues for many years. Even after the high school team departed after the 2001 season to an artificial-turf facility behind the school itself, the press box continued to serve its purpose.

Decades ago, a holiday game at Memorial Park.

There have been times over the years when I wish the Hornets could still play at Memorial Park. Like Community Field in North Attleboro, it was a relic of a bygone era, but a majestic one. All those stone structures gave it the look of something out of antiquity, although none of them were very energy-efficient and not well-insulated against temperature extremes. I always thought that it could have been re-envisioned with artificial turf and new lighting and permanent stands.

But because it was under the auspices of the recreation department and not the school department, I suppose there always would have been conflicts over its use. Alumni Field is fully controlled by the school department, and while it has its flaws -- notably, an east-west alignment that creates harsh sun angles in early evening, and its piecemeal design dictated by surrounding wetlands -- it's not subject to inter-departmental conflict. Recently, the town underwrote the final pieces of a gradual expansion of grandstands that took more than 20 years to complete, and added a modern digital scoreboard, and the resulting stadium is as good as any in the area.

But I'll miss that old green press box at Memorial Park. It was my first "home" as a journalist. More proof, indeed, that you can never go home again.

** Sad news to report, amid the nostalgia that has characterized this column so far. I have just learned of the passing of William S. Bruno, 91, who was a well-known figure around Mansfield since his high school days, and the uncle of my close friend ("brother from another mother," as I call him), former classmate and current broadcast partner for Mansfield and King Philip basketball, Alex Salachi.

Willie Bruno, MHS Class of '52.

"Willie," as he was most popularly known, was a 1952 graduate of Mansfield High, where he played baseball and football at a high level and captained and quarterbacked the Hornet football team in 1951. He worked for a while at the clothing store in town that was owned by my father and his three brothers, but he also had the "writing bug," so he started to work as a part-time sportswriter for the Mansfield News in 1952.

He only did that gig for about a year before he was inducted into the U.S. Army in April 1953, but he made it a memorable one. Willie had a natural and engaging writing style and the experience of having been a legitimate athlete. His boss at the News, Dick Yager, said young Willie didn't have much of an idea what newspaper operations were like when he first started, but that he was a quick study and became ultra-productive in the role.

One of Willie's crowning achievements at the paper before he left was a multi-part series highlighting the accomplishments of some of Mansfield's greatest football teams of the more distant past. That underscored his respect for the town's history and the past accomplishments of talented athletes whose feats of glory might have been forgotten under the shifting sands of time.

"Now, wait," you may say. "How do you know all this? You weren't even born yet!" That is true, I entered this existence on Jan. 7, 1954, a year and a half after Willie graduated from MHS. I grew up knowing him primarily as Alex's genial and sports-minded uncle. But when I started working at the Mansfield News in 1969, I made it a point to research back editions (thanks to a sparkling new microfiche reader in the office) so I'd have an idea of what came before me -- and so I wouldn't fall into the trap of writing about mundane accomplishments as if they were the greatest thing that ever happened in our sleepy little hamlet. 

Still enjoying games in his 90s.

When I saw Willie's writing and realized that he also appreciated the context of history, it indicated to me that I may have been on the right path. And knowing that he did good work as a young man fresh out of high school, he inspired me to reach for a similar level of accomplishment, if just a little bit earlier in my life. Indeed, I consider him one of the major inspirations for what became my life-long career.

Willie went from the Army to Bridgewater State College and then entered a career in education. He became a teacher and then an administrator in several neighboring communities, and served for quite some time on the Mansfield School Committee and the town's School Building Committee. He eventually retired to the coastal town of Mattapoisett, where I could always contact him if, in my later career as the 500-pound sports gorilla at The Sun Chronicle in Attleboro, I needed to dig up some factoid of local sports history that eluded my own searches.

I offer my deepest condolences to my friend Alex, for whom Willie became more than just a mentor after he lost his own father during his college years, as well as to his wife Ann Marie, daughters Julie, Beth and Maria, sons Paul and David, and the entire extended Bruno family.

** I seem to be missing the point of the change in college sports these days. The specter of "Name, Image and Likeness" (NIL) benefits certainly has changed the game, and not necessarily for the better. 

Admittedly, college athletes have been taken advantage of for many years. Their performances, fueling the rise in popularity of their sports, raked in billions of dollars for their institutions without returning anything to the so-called amateur athletes that made it all happen. Now that's no longer an issue, but probably because we don't produce too many high-level Division 1 athletes in these parts, I haven't really taken the time to measure or grasp exactly how significant those benefits are.

Recently, however, I heard that a female basketball player from a nearby community was recently recruited to a middle-of-the-pack Division 1 school, and she was given $80,000 as well as a new Jeep in addition to her scholarship. And to be honest, I'm not sure the young lady in question is that impressive of a recruit.

We're all going to hell in a handbasket.

** OK, I gave in and went to see "Fantastic Four: First Steps" at the theater even though I never really had much interest in that Marvel franchise during its heyday. I bought a few FF comic books in the 1970s and only recently benefitted from the experience by reselling them for about $100. 

Kirby and Pascal: Bor-r-r-ring.

The best thing I can say about the movie? I won't have to see it again.

Sure, it was a novel idea to make it a period piece in a parallel universe, but that wore thin quickly. The increasingly overexposed Pedro Pascal (Reed Richards/Mr. Fantastic) spent the whole movie either looking concerned, or brooding, or basically playing a wimpy second fiddle to Vanessa Kirby (Sue Richards/Invisible Woman). The Thing and Human Torch had their moments, and they turned the Silver Surfer into a hottie, but the little robot was a pain in the ass. And what did Natasha Lyonne’s character have to do with anything? Waste of a quirky talent.

To me, the movie was just one big gimmick. Both this one and DC's James Gunn-authored "Superman" have turned to the so-called Silver Age of comics for inspiration, when stories were far too exaggerated to be even remotely believable. I'll give props to MarvelStudios for creating an alternate universe in which the kitsch of the 1960s was merged with elements of science fiction that the FF's presence might have influenced, but having grown up in the '60s, I found it too unreal to be relatable.

But hot damn, that product placement! Too bad they don't serve Canada Dry in the Showcase Cinema's drink dispensers. Or maybe they do. I was too pissed off to look when my Cherry Coke Zero button malfunctioned halfway through my cup and I had to complete the choice with Pibb Xtra. Ugh.

All in all, I have yet to see any reason to believe that the FF will be any better as a lasting film franchise this time around, although the desperation move of turning Robert Downey Jr. into Dr. Doom will draw some suckers into the next movie. 

I understand John Malkovich’s scenes were cut from this, and my guess he won't be terribly upset as long as the check clears.

**OK, time to shuffle off. I've got a very important missive in the works for next week, so keep an eye out for that. In the meantime, let's get those Epstein Files out there once and for all!

MARK FARINELLA wrote for 42 years for The Sun Chronicle of Attleboro, Mass. Feel free to contact him at theownersbox2020@gmail.com.

The Owner's Box, Ep. 59.

Here's the new "album cover" for my six-year-old audio podcast.

Sometimes, and I really don't know why, I get away from my podcasting duties. Such was the case over the past seven months; part of the reason was my work schedule through late May, but I've had plenty of time to sit down at the microphone and transcribe my thoughts for global consumption.

I finally got around to it on Saturday afternoon, but in a novel way. 

Thanks to some new equipment I've procured over the past year -- a new headset, a new and more portable mixing board and a new laptop computer that is compact enough to use remotely but powerful enough to record my audio podcasts -- I took advantage of a beautiful day in the neighborhood to set up an outdoor "studio" and record Episode 59 of The Owner's Box.

It went off seamlessly ... save for the fact that I kept referring to it as "Episode 57" throughout (I edited out those references after discovering my error). I have a whiteboard in my home office on which I record the current number of both my audio and video episodes, but I forgot to update the audio number last December for the two podcasts I recorded then. Shame on me.

It's a solo episode, in which I talk about the summer basketball leagues going on in our area, my thoughts on Patriots training camp and the Red Sox, and my current efforts to turn old comic books into cash by selling them to collectors. I also mention that many of these old books have relevance to the spate of new superhero movies being released this summer.

Here's a link. Hopefully it will be the harbinger of many more to come -- including some in which I can take the show on the road, as was my original plan for this summer.

Ponderous thoughts I was pondering ...

Foxboro's Alaysia Drummonds, left, will be returning to the Warriors' lineup.

Ponderous thoughts I was pondering while bemoaning the transition of my backyard from a lush, green carpet to an expanse of Shredded Wheat in just the short span of two hot, dry weeks:

** It's July, and that means the return of one of my favorite summertime activities -- summer leagues for the local high school basketball teams.

Over the last few years, I have gravitated more to the girls' basketball league at Franklin High School run by the Panthers' long-time head coach, John Leighton, because most of the local schools have chosen to compete there rather than at Mass Premier Courts in Foxboro. Nothing against MPC, I'm told -- but some of the coaches believed that the competition level in the girls' league had dropped in recent years, with some of the larger schools dropping out to play elsewhere, leaving smaller schools with less-developed talent pools to be manhandled by the power programs that remained.

At Franklin, most of the top programs in this corner of southeastern Massachusetts are represented.

Hosting site: Franklin High's two courts.

Six Hockomock League schools will be represented, including four-time state champion Foxboro (and a semifinalist last year), Mansfield, Oliver Ames, Attleboro, North Attleboro and host Franklin, which will field two teams. The Tri-Valley League is represented by Kristen McDonnell's Norwood team as well as Medway, Medfield, Bellingham, Millis and Hopkinton. The Bay State League will send Walpole and Natick into the fray, and let's not forget Bishop Feehan (playing under the monicker "Rock Ball"), which has been to three straight Division 1 title games.

Starting this Monday and running through Aug. 6, there will be eight games played twice a week, four each on the two 84-foot courts inside the Franklin High gym, starting at 5 p.m. Teams will play by unique summer-league rules, which include 20-minute halves of running time, clock stoppage only inside the last minute of play, and usually only one free throw on what would be a two-shot foul situation. It's all to keep the games moving so four games can be played on each court during a four-hour window.

And of course, the teams' regular-season coaches can't be on the sidelines for the summer games. That's beholding to an archaic (and totally outdated) MIAA rule that prohibits varsity coaches from coaching their own teams out of season. But that rule was amended several years ago to allow coaches to watch from the stands without actively coaching, which is how I can have enjoyable conversations with people like Foxboro's Lisa Downs, Mansfield's Heather McPherson and Feehan's Amy Dolores during the games.

The competition is usually pretty good, although not all of the varsity players can show up at every game. Some are still active in their summer AAU programs, or participating in camps for the other sports they play, or just enjoying some serious beach time. But I'm generally pleased to see the level of commitment these kids have to give up some of their personal time to play summer ball with their winter teammates-to-be. And this is really where the process begins for the coaches to see how the holes in their teams caused by graduations will be filled when play begins in earnest five months from now.

On Monday, the games I'll be most interested in seeing are in the 6, 7 and 8 p.m. slots -- Feehan vs. Franklin White at 6 (Court 1), Mansfield vs. Natick at 7 (Court 2) and Walpole vs. Foxboro at 8 (Court 2). Of course, I announce Mansfield's games on Mansfield Cable Access, and do occasional games for Foxboro and Feehan on Foxboro Cable Access and North TV respectively.

The games are open free of charge to spectators, with Court 1 the usual varsity court as you first walk into the gym, and Court 2 the adjacent one, Be forewarned -- sometimes the stands are not open on Court 2 because exercise equipment is set up in their place to accommodate early football workouts. It pays to bring a small folding chair.

Here's a link to this year's schedule: Franklin Summer League

** As good as I might think this Red Sox team can be, my optimism has been crushed repeatedly this year by the abysmal performance of their bullpen. So many strong games by the starters, particularly Garrett Crochet, have been wasted because the procession of rag-arms sent to the mound after the sixth inning can't hold a lead.

Crochet: Wasted so far.

And where the hell has been the run support for Crochet? I found it hilarious, though, that in a recent game, when the Sox got him eight or nine runs early on, he had one of his worst efforts and gave up five runs, although he did manage to salvage the win. 

One more gripe -- when things start to go wrong, this team tends to fall apart entirely, especially the defense. Wild throws and dumb decisions quickly turn a salvageable situation into utter chaos.

By the way, I wasn't upset when they traded Rafael Devers. Disappointed, yes, but more in the player because I felt he had become selfish and a distraction. His performances in San Francisco since the trade have not changed my opinion any. In the long run, with a little more enlightened roster building, the Sox should be better off.

** I'll keep my political rants to a minimum. I just see the passage of Donald Trump's Big Ugly Bill as just another addition to the list of things that Democrats will have to fix once they re-take the presidency, the House and the Senate. And as the harm from Medicaid cuts and funding for social programs starts to grievously wound the GOP's MAGA base, that support will erode quickly -- starting with the 2026 midterms.

However, I do have one fear. Trump now apparently has the power to suspend elections by declaring martial law according to the provisions of the Big Ugly Bill. I have got to believe that if he attempts to take that step, all hell will break loose.

This country is in deep distress. Even if Trump should drop dead within the next year, that still puts the Maybelline Hillbilly, J.D. Vance, in the seat of power. And even if the Democrats regain control of the Senate and House and are able to impeach and remove Trump from office in 2027, you still have to deal with Vance to get to Hakeem Jeffries (who will then be Speaker of the House) in the line of succession.

My most fervent wish is to outlive all this and see the America I love restored to a nation that reveres freedom, liberty and inclusion. At 71, the odds may be against me -- but dammit, I will try.

** By the way, has anyone seen gasoline at $1.98 a gallon anywhere in the country? No, I don't believe so. Just another pile of bullshit that the increasingly addled Trump slings at the nation on a regular basis.

Of course, I own two cars for which regular gas is verboten. My two Panzers use premium, which is a 180-degree turn from the me that owned two hybrids in a period from the mid-2000s until 2019. The trade-off is that I drive half as much, or even less, than I did prior to my retirement.

** Great crop of bunnies this year in the backyard. These young buns are absolutely fearless and they have accepted me as one of their own. I guess they realize that I'm not a threat to them. They've seen how badly I walk when my knees are aching, and they know there's no way I could chase after any of them even if I wanted to.

Sometimes, there's nothing more peaceful and relaxing than sitting in the yard, watching these innocent creatures cavort around and nibble the grass while a cooling breeze wafts across the yard from the adjacent pond. 

** Have you seen that the American equivalent of Dr. Joseph Goebbels, White House string-puller Stephen Miller, has sued the Los Angeles Dodgers for alleged violations of Trump's executive orders regarding diversity, equity and inclusion? 

What a fucking asshole. Is it any wonder that his former classmates at Santa Monica (Calif.) High School regard him as the most hated alumnus of the school? Apparently, he was this much of a dick when he was a kid, too. 

How do people like this attain positions of power in this country?

** I've about had it with the approach taken by insurance companies to win your business without telling you how they do business.

Worst national offenders in my opinion are Liberty Mutual's campaign featuring "Limu Emu and Doug," the GEICO gekko and the Aflac duck, and I've also had it with Jake from State Farm. But the one that makes me hit the remote switch is the series of local ads on Red Sox games called "The Bostonians" for Plymouth Rock Assurance. There is nothing at all that would convince me to do business with a firm represented by a house filled with mascots or stereotypes trying to purport itself as a situation comedy.

I think that's one of the reasons why I chose Arbella to handle my car insurance. Their ads generally tell me about their service and how they will serve me, and when I have needed them to perform those services, they have followed through.

And no, I don't get a break on my insurance bill for mentioning that.

** Hey, King Philip football fans! Mark down Friday, Sept. 5, on your calendars. That's when I return to the microphone for North TV's coverage of live high school football as the Warriors take on the Timberwolves of Walpole High, a 7 p.m. start. 

I'm not sure where those games will be appearing, however. I'm told by my boss, Peter Gay, that we may have to shuffle around the North TV channels because of recent technological upgrades. But one way or another, we will be there for you and I'll let you know how and where once we get closer to the season.

MARK FARINELLA wrote for The Sun Chronicle of Attleboro for 42 years prior to retirement in 2018, but he's proven that there's no easy way to get rid of him, as he will begin his eighth season of high school TV sports announcing in the fall. Contact him at theownersbox2020@gmail.com.

Gillette 'Ring of Fame' makes sense, not money.

Foxboro's Tom Nalen has his name enshrined in the Denver Broncos' Ring of Fame.

Boston Globe national NFL writer Ben Volin recently penned a Sunday notes column in which he suggested that the Patriots should un-retire most of their retired numbers and put them back into circulation, for one simple reason -- because they have so many retired numbers, there almost aren't enough numerals left at some positions to satisfy the NFL's numbering convention.

As is usually the case, Ben took some heat for this column. Some Globe readers seemingly have nothing better to do than criticize every word he writes because he didn't grow up in Charlestown and watch his first NFL game at Nickerson Field or Fenway Park. As I learned over almost a half-century of professional sportswriting, you can't please everyone.

But Ben touched upon a topic that I've been harping about for a long time. There are too many numbers that have been retired in all U.S. professional sports for sketchy reasons, and the Patriots are right up there. They have officially retired eight numbers -- amazingly, the least of any of the four major Boston teams -- and one other number has not been issued since that player retired.

That may not sound like a lot, especially when there are 100 numbers available to every NFL team to fill out their 53-man rosters -- 0 through 99. But the NFL requires that players at various positions wear numbers in a specific range, although those requirements have been loosened a little in recent years to meet the growing challenge of number availability.

As I believe that triple-digit numbers or number-letter combinations belong only on Massachusetts low-number license plates, I do not want the NFL to consider more numerals on a football jersey. But limits have to be set to keep two digits as the standard.

Currently, these are the number-convention rules (courtesy of Wikipedia):

The Patriots' biggest problem is that they have five numbers in the 50-79 range that are not available, which puts a strain upon their numbering decisions, especially for tackles. There were just 30 numbers available for at least 22 to 25 available roster spots at the allowed positions, although the opening of the 0-49 range to linebackers mitigated that somewhat. 

Here are the Patriots' retired numbers:

** 12, QB Tom Brady, retired in 2024.

** 20, WR-K Gino Cappelletti, retired in 1971

** 40, CB Michael Haynes, retired in 1996

** 57, LB Steve Nelson, retired in 1988

** 73, OG John Hannah, retired in 1990

** 78, OT Bruce Armstrong, retired in 2001

** 79, DT Jim Lee Hunt, retired in 1971

** 89, DE Bob Dee, retired in 1968

In addition, the number 56 worn by linebacker Andre Tippett has not been issued to another player since his retirement in 1993, although it is not officially retired. 

Gino Cappelletti

Among those players with retired numbers are two in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, Haynes (who played half of his 14-year career with the then-Los Angeles Raiders), and Hannah. There are 11 players with ties to the Patriots in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, but just five that spent a significant amount of time with them: Tippett (2008), cornerback Ty Law (2019), DT Richard Seymour (2022), LB Nick Buoniconti (2001) and RB Curtis Martin (2012), none of whose numbers have been retired. And let's not forget about Randy Moss, Darrelle Revis or Junior Seau, either.

This is entirely separate from the members of the Patriots Hall of Fame, which has been selected by fan voting since 2007. Each year, a nominating committee consisting of current and former media members, former players and coaches and team personnel select three nominees, with the entrant selected after a month-long period of fan voting. A senior selection committee meets every four years and can add a player that has been retired for 25 years without going through the voting process, and in addition, team owner Robert Kraft has the option of adding individuals as "contributors" for having a significant impact upon the progress and development of the franchise. This year, wide receiver Julian Edelman won the fan vote and former coach Bill Parcells was inducted as a contributor.

While the 31 players inducted in the Patriots Hall of Fame do not have their numbers immediately retired (what a mess that would leave!), their names, positions and numbers are immortalized inside the Patriots Hall of Fame exhibition hall inside the stadium. But I've thought for a long time that the Patriots should make a larger and more visible commitment to their memories.

Many teams use the façades within their home stadiums to accomplish that for their honored former players. The one with which I'm most familiar, because it has local representation, is the one inside Empower Field at Mile High in Denver. As seen in the photo atop this missive, it extends around the full length of one of the highest façades inside the bowl, and each segment features the player's name, number, career duration and the helmet which he wore during his tenure (the Broncos, like the Patriots, have worn helmets with different team logos on them).

Denver's Tom Nalen.

Among those players is former Foxboro High and Boston College standout offensive lineman Tom Nalen, who was a two-time All-Pro and five-time Pro Bowl center for the Broncos from 1994 through 2008. With his two Super Bowl championships sending snaps to the waiting hands of John Elway, I'm still puzzled that he isn't in the Pro Football Hall of Fame -- although I hear there's a move afoot in Denver to promote his candidacy more aggressively. 

While the Patriots don't have a home-grown local like Nalen to celebrate, I'm sure their fans would love to look up inside Gillette Stadium and see Steve Grogan's name, or Tedy Bruschi's, Ty Law's, Rodney Harrison's, Julian Edelman's ... any of the players that led them through both the good times and bad to eventually put the Patriots firmly among pro football's elite franchises.

Yes, it would be great ... except for the fact that the stadium's façades are presently giant cash cows for the Kraft family.

Almost every inch of available space inside the stadium is covered with video boards that flash garish advertisements for almost every second of a game. As bright and brilliant as the LED panels will allow, they constantly pound away at their not-so-subliminal messages of car purchasing, shaving, investing or what have you. And it all brings more cash into the coffers of an ownership that has a current worth of about $11.1 billion, of which around $7.4 billion is directly attributable to the Patriots.

Is the top of the stadium all that's left without ads?

Robert Kraft and heir-apparent Jonathan are highly unlikely to remove any of the ads from what has become prime advertising space around the two elevated façades that ring most of the stadium. And I'm not enough of an architectural engineer to suggest which could be extended lower to create space for a permanent and illuminated Ring of Fame without creating sight-line issues. One possibility I see would be to create a new façade at or near the base of the structural steel that holds the stadium lights in place, but that's way up there. If you want a Ring of Fame, you want people to be able to see it without high-powered binoculars. 

And who knows? Maybe the whole thing can be sponsored by Dunkin' Donuts, to keep the bean-counters happy.

I'm sure a lot of these things have been discussed within the ivory towers of Patriot Place. I'm too far removed from my days on the beat (outside of my membership on the nominating committee) to be in the know about what's up over there beyond the movie schedule at the Showcase. But it's clear that as opposed to other NFL franchises like Cleveland, Chicago, Nashville, even Denver, where new stadiums are being proposed to replace those built or renovated at the turn of the century, the Krafts are committed to their Foxboro location and continue to upgrade it (including the new team offices and training complex currently under construction). Maybe somewhere within all that planning, someone in authority can suggest a better way to publicly honor the players and others that built an empire.

Back to the retired-numbers conundrum ... I'm afraid I would be pretty harsh.

I'd put all numbers back into circulation for current players except possibly three -- 12 (Brady, for obvious reasons), 73 (Hannah, the first fully-vested Patriot to earn Pro Football Football Hall of Fame status), and 20 (Cappelletti, who will always be the leading scorer in American Football League history, but also had a long and honored tenure as an assistant coach and broadcaster). 

Then, I would establish some firm and demanding statistical criteria for actual number retirement.

Adam Vinatieri? Nope.

First, I'd expect a player to have played at least two-thirds of his career with the Patriots. I originally thought it should be a whole career, but that would exclude Brady (87 percent), Rob Gronkowski (81.8), and Law and Seymour (both 67 percent), as well as Lee (80) and Haynes (50). Much as I am a fan of Adam Vinatieri, who should reach both the Patriots Hall of Fame and the Pro Football Hall of Fame, he played only 41.6 percent of his career with the Patriots, and thus I would not put No. 4 in the rafters, so to speak. 

Hannah, Cappelletti and Tippett are all 100 percenters, as are Grogan, Nelson, Armstrong, Hunt and several others among the 31 Patriots Hall of Fame members -- but not all of them are iconic enough to qualify on tenure alone, hence I'd establish additional steps.

Second, I'd establish a criteria for statistical qualification. I played around with some numbers and then came up with what I think is a reasonable suggestion -- a player should finish within the top 5 percent of all players in NFL history at his position at the time of his retirement. Using Yankee Stadium-sized ballpark figures for eligibility, I'd suggest that over at least 100 years of professional football, there have been maybe 12,000 linebackers that might have been full-time starters for most of their careers, and 5 percent of those would equal approximately 400. So if you can finish your career with top-400 status in some important statistical category, you'd be worth consideration for a retired number.

Third, I'd make Pro Football Hall of Fame status an almost certainty for number retirement status, and add emphasis for Super Bowl participation and top-tier awards such as Super Bowl or league MVP status and All-Pro berths. I'm not much of a fan of Pro Bowl berths, watered down as that has become.

I'd also make some room for extenuating circumstances, although not much. Basically, you'd have to cure cancer, negotiate Middle East peace or become a member of the Avengers or Justice League for it to make any difference. That's kind of how I felt about those who wanted to retire Tony Conigliaro's number with the Red Sox over the tragic circumstances that derailed his career. You retire a number for what a player did, not what you think he could have done -- no matter how heartbreaking.

And finally, I'd establish a high-level committee for each team, just a few members, to take all these criteria, number-crunch them and then come up with the final decision independent of any possible outside pressure. In case of unreconcilable conflict on those committees, the final decision would be left up to the Commissioner. This should not be an opportunity for an owner to capriciously add a player's number to the highest-possible level of honor just because of personal favoritism. That was done by two of the Patriots' four majority owners, and while it was done with good intentions, it did not accurately reflect the actual performance and contribution to football history of at least five of the eight former Patriots whose numbers were retired, in my opinion.

I don't have the facilities here to do all that number-crunching, but the NFL surely does, and it could provide the necessary assistance to those charged with the task. And I'd want the league and the teams to be transparent about the decisions, to prevent zealot fans from being able to dispute decisions for sentimental reasons without the teams having enough information on hand to dismiss those disputes.

Don't meet the criteria? The Patriots Hall of Fame is a worthy-enough honor, and even better if the names and numbers of those in it are displayed prominently within the stadium bowl.

Got any opinions? The email address is at the bottom of this column. Feel free to respond.

MARK FARINELLA has his number retired by the Patriots. He wore No. 12 for the Mansfield High School baseball team in 1971, six years before Tom Brady was born. Comment about this column at theownersbox2020@gmail.com.

When hatred and bigotry rule the day.

Simone Biles was fed up with Riley Gaines' bullshit, and let her know it.

Where to begin, where to begin ... 

These are indeed troubling times in our nation. As highlighted in my last post here, our country is overrun with deputized groups of masked thugs, masquerading as law enforcement agents and carrying out the hate-filled and bigoted vision of America as possessed by President Donald J. Trump and his self-loathing shadow second-in-command, Stephen Miller. With cracks in their armor showing in their recent push to conduct immigration raids in Democrat-voting California, the would-be dictator has weaponized the California National Guard to supposedly protect the ICE agents, with the added twist of mobilizing a reported 700 U.S. Marines to stand by for duty on the streets of Los Angeles -- an action unprecedented in recent American history.

Our glorious Führer also ordered a massive parade of U.S. military might to take place this weekend in Washington, D.C. -- ostensively to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the founding of the U.S. Army, but more to mark his own 79th birthday. It's the sort of thing that was all the rage on the streets of Moscow before the fall of Communism, and is still performed annually in North Korea to celebrate its own detached-from-reality dictator.

Amid all this, a social-media debate arose this past week that pitted perhaps the greatest American gymnast of all time, Olympian legend Simone Biles, against one of the foremost purveyors of bigotry and hatred in the MAGA sphere, former collegiate swimmer and devoted transphobe Riley Gaines. 

Biles, fed up with the constant spewing of hatred toward transgender athletes from Gaines -- who never represented the United States in any international competition and whose last competitive effort was to finish in a fifth-place tie with a transgender athlete at the NCAA championships -- let it all out in a post targeted against the former University of Kentucky athlete's frequent attacks upon transgender athletes.

Riley Gaines, notorious transphobe.

It all started when Gaines attacked a high school athlete from Minnesota that was a member of a state championship-winning softball team. "To be expected when your star player is a boy,” Gaines wrote in the post on X, referring to Marissa Rothenberger, a transgender athlete who is a pitcher for the team. Rothenberger helped the team secure the win with a shutout.

Biles quoted the post and wrote directly to Gaines, "You're truly sick, all of this campaigning because you lost a race. Straight up sore loser. You should be uplifting the trans community and perhaps finding a way to make sports inclusive OR creating a new avenue where trans feel safe in sports. Maybe a transgender category IN ALL sports!! But instead… You bully them… One thing’s for sure is no one in sports is safe with you around!!!!!”

Gaines, of course, became a MAGA activist after she finished behind four female-at-birth athletes and tied with transgender swimmer Lia Thomas in the NCAA championships. She has yet to stop complaining about having a transgender athlete take a solo fifth-place finish away from her.

This all went viral as both athletes engaged in a war of Twitterwords which included some bodyshaming and a huge dose of vitriol by the less successful of the two, including an embarrassing attempt by Gaines to liken the sexual abuse suffered by many gymnasts by Dr. Larry Nassar as the equivalent of having a transgender athlete on a girls' team. Eventually, Biles held out an olive branch and apologized for engaging Gaines -- although from the tone of the social media response over the length of the spat, Biles was the clear winner for calling out Gaines' bigotry.

As I read successive skirmishes in the Biles-Gaines war of words, I was frequently reminded of what may have been the most painful and disheartening two years of my career in sports journalism, either print or electronic.

It's no secret to most local followers of high school sports that there has been a transgender athlete playing for a local varsity team since her sophomore year. She has since graduated -- and yes, I will always refer to her with female pronouns because there is nothing I have witnessed over the past three sports seasons to think of her as anything but a talented, hard-working and personable young woman that earned the utmost respect from her coaches and fellow athletes.

And no, I will not use her name here, although it has been dragged through the mud in despicable fashion by those just as bigoted and angry as Ms. Gaines. If you don't know by now, perhaps it's best you don't know. Like many transgender athletes from across the country, her name was blasted all over a website called "hecheated.org," which exists solely to make the lives of transgender athletes living hells under the fraudulent guise of supporting the equal-rights legislation from the Education Amendments of 1972, popularly known as Title IX.

Before the right-wingers among you try to get all holier-than-thou with me and try to lecture me about the intent of Title IX, don't waste your effort. I won't pay attention to you. I've been writing professionally about the meaning and impact of Title IX for almost a half-century. Title IX was meant to promote equal opportunity for all students and student-athletes, and not to exclude anyone on the basis of gender identity. In fact, there has been plenty of legislation in this state and several others to further codify the rights of transgender individuals into existing law.

Over the span of that aforementioned half-century, I have met plenty of athletes that don't fit the "Ozzie and Harriet" definition of gender identity which seems to drive Trump and his dim-witted minions. I have known many gay athletes who felt the sting of prejudice while playing sports in the high schools and colleges. I've also known three individuals I can confirm that were transgender.

Let's look at that number in perspective. Over 50 years of writing for newspapers and announcing games for cable TV, and using ballpark estimations for roster sizes, available sports and the number of schools I covered, it's reasonable to suggest that I may have seen 286,500 athletes take to the fields, courts, ice or what have you during that time just from the 10 schools that I covered on a regular basis.

I was just a one-sport athlete,
but I don't count in these totals.

Now, let's just assume that of that figure, there were several athletes among them that played at least two sports. There used to be a lot more that played three, but over time, there has been more specialization and more athletes that had no interest in playing the traditional offerings such as football, basketball or baseball/softball and focused upon other disciplines. That would drop the total to 143,250. So three transgender athletes among those would represent exactly 0.00209 percent -- or in plain English, two one-thousandths of a percentage point.

Not exactly an army of young men just standing in line to cut off their penises and become female athletes, is it? Of course not. But that's what the MAGA wing of the Republican Party and its propaganda outlet, Fox News, would have you believe.

In fact, two of those athletes competed before this became an issue. I firmly believe that as a recently as 15 years ago, and maybe even more recently than that, transgender athletes in America could have competed happily and safely without drawing attention to themselves because nobody really cared until the ignorant and prejudiced among us started making an issue of it. Two of the athletes to which I alluded did finish their high school careers out of the relentless spotlight of public scrutiny, and I only learned their stories (and didn't write them) long after their school days were over. 

That's not to say their lives were a lot more peaceful; they weren't. Transitioning is a life-changing event, not entered into lightly, and not everyone understands or accepts it. There were issues, but it was confined to a much tighter circle of attention and not turned into a circus of hatred that stretched from coast to coast.

If there's one thing I have learned in my 71 years on this planet, it's that no two individuals are alike, regardless of their personal circumstances. There are as many different reasons for a person to want to change his or her entire life as there are people on this planet. And I have a hard time believing that for any of them, the reason was solely to finish in a fifth-place tie in a collegiate women's swimming event.

But then again, that's what MAGA would have you believe. Women's sports are under attack, they claim. Males with evil intent want to tuck their peckers between their legs, if not undertaking full castration, then dress up like girls and take all the ribbons away from their precious, helpless daughters. And God forgive that any of their sweet young things should be exposed to a naked penis in the locker room. That's assuming, of course, that Redneck Daddy hasn't already burst into her bedroom at night and taught her the facts of life through practical application. 

It makes me sick. And that's exactly what I felt when, late in the spring of 2023, a friend texted me and told me that a muckraking blogger that purports himself to be an "award-winning journalist" had attempted to out the girl playing locally.

The post on this individual's website was removed almost as swiftly as it went online, presumably under threat of legal action. But nothing is gone forever, and I read the offending post and saw all the accompanying photos that were lifted without permission from local newspapers. It's not the first time this fellow had sought to publicly shame transgender athletes, but to my knowledge, it's the first time I can recall him being forced to back down.

Trump signs his infamous executive order.

I never asked to know the full circumstances of this athlete's transition. It's none of my business. I know this person as the person she is, and that's good enough for me. I don't share in the morbid curiosity some individuals have, and I hoped that would fade with time.

The athlete continued to play with the full blessing of her coaches and her school's administration through the next season. Things settled down for a while. But after Trump returned to the Oval Office, and he issued his worthless executive order banning transgender athletes in women's sports, the undercurrent boiled over and spewed into the open. It reached an extreme when, through the encouragement of the "hecheated.org" website, an anti-trans protest was staged near the entrance to a school where the local girls' team was to play a scrimmage prior to the start of postseason play. Adults gathering to harass a high school athlete is a shameful and reprehensible act. 

I also learned that "hecheated.org" was being fed information, and its X/Twitter posts were retweeted frequently, by a parent of an athlete at another school in our area. I won't identify that individual because I have made it a career point never to hold the sins of parents against their sons or daughters, and the latter need not be publicly shamed. 

That's also why I did not send a letter I wrote that detailed the parent's actions to that school's athletic director, principal and superintendent. It was complete with screenshots of the social media posts intended to shame the local girl out of high school sports, and the envelopes were sealed -- but I stopped before the stamps went on.

Sadly, this is an illness that has infected our nation as a whole -- and attempting to remove one malignant freckle in this small corner of the continent wasn't going to result in a cure.

Over my life, I've made my share of mistakes. I've said hurtful or stupid things and I had some outmoded beliefs, but I'd like to believe that I learned from my mistakes and became a lot more accepting of those around me, no matter how different their lives are from mine. As my days grow shorter, I want to believe that I've become a better person by understanding two very important things about being a human being -- first, as I stated before, that there is infinite diversity in human existence and that you can not put every example of a divisive issue such as transgenderism into a satchel and come out with a folder that has all the answers; and second, when an experience arises that is outside my area of understanding, I at least attempt to ponder what it would be like to walk a mile in the shoes of those facing such a crisis. 

In the situation I've discussed here, I've asked myself what I would do if, as a parent, I had a child that was physically or psychologically challenged over sexual identity, and time after time I've come up with the same answer -- I would do anything that would give my child the opportunity to have a happier life. And that would require a full understanding of all the issues at hand, and knowledge of all the options available.

Many judge without trying to understand. Riley Gaines is one of those. Even now, she is taking a victory lap because Biles offered an apology. Gaines is smug, self-righteous and totally intractable in her fight against transgender participation in activities that are open to any other American citizen as guaranteed under the Constitution.

Speaking of Americans, Gaines' new husband isn't one. He's a British subject that swam at the University of Kentucky and now sells swimming pools for a living while his wife nurses at the tainted teat of Fox News. As of the beginning of this year, he was still not on a track to citizenship and had not been issued a Green Card because he refused to be immunized against COVID-19. MAGA types would call that another freeloading foreigner, right? ICE, anyone?

Maybe that's mean-spirited of me, but it would be even more so if I wished that Gaines and her new hubby would be blessed with a child that faced the same level of personal conflict as the transgender athletes mentioned here. It would be the ultimate irony that this purveyor of hatred and bigotry would be forced to face the same sort of agonizing decision in order to provide that child with a better life -- but I won't wish for that. There would be far too much pain involved, most of it likely to be experienced by the child.

No, I just want Riley Gaines to return to irrelevance -- which she was well on her way to achieving with her miserable finish in her last collegiate race. The best way to achieve that is to start at the ballot box in 2026, and to throw MAGA Republicans out of office in the Senate and House and to subject Trump to impeachment and removal from the presidency for the many hatred-fueled indignities he has made this nation endure during his relatively short time back in office. 

Maybe then, we can start to restore human values to a nation that has clearly lost its way.

MARK FARINELLA supports the rights of all Americans to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, without exception. Contact him at theownersbox2020@gmail.com.

The ICE thugs have arrived in Milford.

A member of the Milford High School boys' volleyball team (not pictured above) was detained by ICE agents on Saturday. (Milford Daily News photo)

You would have to be living under a rock to not have read or heard about how agents from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (known popularly as ICE) have been unleashed across the nation to enforce President Donald Trump's campaign promise to rid the country of individuals that are living here illegally, or are criminals at large, or whatever excuse they can make to justify their Gestapo-like tactics.

These so-called officers of the law are often wearing plain clothes or military-style fatigues, are heavily armed to the point of excess and are masked to hide their identities. They operate without any regard for due process, which is supposed to be guaranteed to anyone in the country by the Constitution of the United States (not just American citizens as some claim). They swoop down upon their prey and spirit individuals away to unknown destinations regardless of age, gender, or proof of American citizenship or legal residency status -- and if you don't understand how closely that parallels Nazi Germany's persecution of European Jews in the 1930s and 1940s, you've clearly never read a history book.

With all that said, the horror came to the Hockomock League in recent days.

A member of the Milford High School boys' volleyball team was detained by ICE officers while he and teammates drove to practice on Saturday morning, according to multiple news reports.

Responding to several requests for information, Milford school officials would not release the name of the athlete, only to confirm that he is an 18-year-old member of the junior class. Boston TV station WCVB revealed that the first name of the athlete was "Marcello," but said in its reporting that students interviewed for the report would not offer his last name.

The website HockomockSports.com, which provides extensive coverage of all sports played by the league's 12 member schools, runs full rosters of all of those teams in tandem with their season schedules. Under Milford's entry in boys' volleyball, there is one athlete with the first name of "Marcelo." As I am not up-to-date with the current legality of releasing such information publicly without confirmation, I will note simply that the athlete named Marcelo is a member of the junior class and wears No. 10 on his uniform. Anyone may find further information by calling up the website's main menu, clicking on Schedules, locating the Milford boys' volleyball schedule and then scrolling down to the roster.

The Worcester Telegram and Gazette did reveal what it believes to be the student's full name. The newspaper's reporting said the student is originally from Brazil, and was first sent to a facility in Burlington and then transferred to a detention facility in Plymouth.

ICE agents often hide their faces while on the job.

Reports on the Boston Globe's website as well as WCVB's profiled the athlete in question as a "model citizen" that had lived in the United States since he was 5. They said he is enrolled in honors classes, is an "exceptional musician" and member of the high school marching band, and even assisted in coaching the girls' volleyball team during its fall season.

Milford boys' coach Andrew Mainini said that when the athletes driving to practice with the detained student did not arrive at the school for a 7:45 a.m. practice, he assumed they had just overslept -- until he received a text from one of them explaining that the group had been stopped by ICE agents.

"Our athlete, who was detained, may be the friendliest person in the school," Mainini told WCVB. "Every day, no matter how he felt, he always had a smile on his face. He was not only happy himself, he made other people smile."

Milford High's graduation ceremonies were this morning. Later in the day, students and community members gathered at the town hall to protest the student's detention.

"I can't imagine any issues with authorities," Mainini told the Telegram and Gazette. "He's an innocent kid who is heavily involved in his church and has no disciplinary issues in school. He's a truly innocent young person."

Milford's volleyball team tied Taunton for the Hockomock League title this year, and took a 12-9 overall record in the MIAA Division 1 tournament as the No. 22 seed in the playoffs. Milford defeated No. 11 Chelmsford, 3-1, in the opening round, and is scheduled for a rematch with No. 3 Taunton in the Round of 16 at 6 p.m. Tuesday in Taunton. Mainini said that the game will go on as scheduled.

MARK FARINELLA, 71, is a second-generation American whose grandparents emigrated to this country at the start of the 20th century, and who never believed he would see these totalitarian tactics being used within the United States during his lifetime. Contact him at theownersbox2020@gmail.com

Ponderous thoughts I was pondering ...

Alex Cora fiddles while the Red Sox burn. Could be time for a change.

Ponderous thoughts I was pondering while grumbling over forecasts that this will be the 11th straight weekend with rain on its way:

** It's been more than 35 years since I last covered a baseball game at Fenway Park as a sportswriter, and probably about 25 years since I last set foot in the ballpark save for two Thanksgiving weeks ago, when the King Philip Warriors and Franklin Panthers played their annual football rivalry game there on the Tuesday before the holiday (KP won, 35-0).

So I admit, my insight into the Red Sox is completely pedestrian in nature. I'm just another guy sitting in the recliner before the 48-inch TV (I upgraded from 40 last year, but anything larger would not fit in my living room). But I'm not at all hesitant in telling you that this team is absolutely infuriating me.

These Red Sox should be a lot better than they are. No question about it. But right now, as they find themselves 11 games behind in the loss column to the flawed Yankees in the AL East, I want to throw things at the new big-screen in frustration at their miserable lack of consistency ... and maybe even an accompanying lack of cojones. 

Their fielding is suspect. Their pitching is inconsistent at its best, and downright undependable at its worst. They make stupid baserunning mistakes. They have no idea how to close out games that would be wins. And worst of all, they just can't fucking hit the ball. They put 19 runs on the scoreboard in a win over the Orioles on May 23, and have scored a total of 15 runs in five games since.

And all the while, manager Alex Cora goes before the cameras with a blank stare in his eyes and says, "We have to be better," and so on -- his delivery mirroring the total lack of motivation that his team shows every time it can't hold a 1-run lead going into the ninth inning.

I was a big Cora fan at the start of his tenure with the Sox, and was pleased he returned after he served his suspension for his minor role in the Houston Astros' cheating scandal. But the miserable finishes of the team over the past few years and the overwhelming mediocrity of this team are just pissing me off. This team is stagnant, no matter what moves it seems to make -- and often, those moves don't really make sense.

There are a few areas of major concern that are particularly maddening.

Garrett Crochet: Is he Chris Sale 2.0?

For one, free agency signings seem to get the kiss of death once they step off the plane at Logan. Chris Sale was an injury-ridden bust during his time here, and now he's regained his Cy Young pitching form in Atlanta. Infielder Trevor Story appeared heading along that same path, and now, even though he's in the lineup, he can't hit his weight. Ditto Alex Bregman, who got off to a great start -- and yup, there goes his quad. 

And how many more terrific pitching performances by Garrett Crochet can they squander before he becomes Chris Sale 2.0?

Another concern of mine is how many young players are being jerked around and told to play different positions at a time in their careers when too much disruption could turn them into the baseball version of Mac Jones. And it's all because Raffy Devers won't play in the field. Sure, he has actually put up some decent numbers as the DH lately, but his petulance to play either third or first put a growing cancer in the clubhouse.

The fielding lapses just irritate the hell out of me, too. I like Jarren Duran, but that line drive that just fell out of his glove in Milwaukee was the kind of outfield defense that I used to play when I was literally the worst player in the Hockomock League. And the way the Red Sox throw the ball all over the infield haphazardly and allow runners to advance? That has no business happening in the major leagues.

Maybe it's just time for a change. Maybe it's time to clean house in the coaching and training staffs to put people in the jobs that will instill fire in their players' bellies and keep them healthy enough to do something about it. 

Do you think Jordon Hudson would let Bill Belichick coach a baseball team?

All I can say is, "they're ruinin' my summah ..." and it hasn't even begun yet.

** I don't know which is the better burn, but these two recent developments in Trump World have warmed my heart with the potential they have for getting under the Orange Turd's skin.

First came the news that Wall Street investors are calling Trump's policy on tariffs "TACO" -- for "Trump Always Chickens Out." In just a few short hours, that phrase has become the dominant comment on social media.

And right up there is the news that Pope Leo XIV, a Chicago native, will televise a special Mass to be shown to tens of thousands of Chicagoans on the message board at Rate Field (otherwise to me, the new Comiskey Field) on June 14, Trump's birthday and the day on which he wants a massive military parade in Washington. The Mass will likely be shown live on American television.

Both are priceless.

** Nothing still prompts me to turn off the radio faster, after all these years, than that insipid 1-800 Kars-4-Kids jingle. I'll die before I contribute a single penny -- and yes, I will still use that phrase even though the U.S. Mint is no longer minting pennies.

** This is the time of year in which I start feeling a little lost. My work as a sports play-by-play announcer is in hiatus until September, even though several local teams have begun play in the MIAA spring tournaments. 

Locally, the King Philip baseball, softball and girls' lacrosse teams, the North Attleboro baseball team and the Bishop Feehan baseball and softball teams have the best chances to advance deeply in their respective tournament fields. Best of luck to all of the local teams, and I promise, I'll be back behind the mic for the start of the 2025-26 school year.

Oh, and a special shoutout to my hometown's softball team, the Mansfield Hornets, ranked 29th in Division 2, which advanced out of the preliminary round today with a win over No. 36 Dartmouth. Go Hornets.

** Back when I returned to The Sun Chronicle in 1989 as the "Weekend Sports Editor," following a two-year stay at The Patriot Ledger of Quincy, we may have had the most educated sports staff in all of New England. I, of course, proudly hail from Northwestern University, while Bill Stedman, then the sports editor, was a graduate of Harvard -- which I always respectfully referred to as "the Northwestern of the East."

OK, I was joking. Northwestern is a fine school, and it boasts what's universally regarded as the best journalism school in the country (the Medill School of Journalism), as well as a pretty damned fine business school (the Kellogg School of Management), a highly-respected medical school, and top-notch programs in law, engineering and technology, and the dramatic arts -- none of which would accept Donald Trump or any of his offspring. You probably didn't even know that back in the 1970s, Northwestern's computing school was one of the initial origin points for a world-wide linkup of computers that would eventually come to be known as the Internet.

These cards started the Internet.

Not that I had anything to do with that, of course. I'd just stop in there occasionally and steal a whole stack of used computer punch cards, utilized initially to input data. They were great all-purpose items, especially well-suited for sticking under a too-short leg of a chair so it would stop rocking. I was ahead of my time where recycling was concerned.

But Harvard is ... well, Harvard. It's in a class by itself. And now it finds itself in the crosshairs of Trump's vindictive quest to use "anti-semitism" (which is bullshit) as justification to force Harvard to adjust its curriculum to reflect the conservative tropes of the MAGA movement, eviscerate the school of its federal grants, and deport its large enrollment of international students -- rumored to be partially because Harvard would not admit his youngest son with those serial-killer vibes, Barron. Yes, I know Melania's spokesman claimed that isn't the case, which gives me all the more reason to believe it.

Well, as is usually the case, Trump has conveniently forgotten that he does not have the power to erase the First Amendment from the Constitution. He has made a career of acting out his petty and misinformed grievances by forcing governmental influence (or more accurately, his own personal influence) in every walk of life -- and I firmly believe he will eventually fail.

But in the meantime, I stand firmly behind the Northwestern of the East in its legal battles against this half-pint dictator. 

** You may have noticed a new look at the top of this blog. After almost 17 years, I've changed the photo at the top and the title font to give it a more recent and up-to-date look, and to reflect my new venture into electronic media.

I've been investigating an entirely new look for the blog, but I've gone through all of the templates on the hosting site and I have yet to find something that really tickles my fancy. So I just changed the top photo -- although if you're really sharp-eyed, you may notice a hint of its past.

At the upper left-hand corner, where there is a replica of one of the Patriots' championship banners hanging on the wall behind me, you may notice the letters "BF" inside the blue field. That's the old typeface for the title of the blog, and without those letters, the online version of the blog does not have an identifying title. Now, the online version will have "BF" as its title -- which could stand for a lot of things I can't print here, but it actually stands for "Blogging Fearlessly." Duh.

That may be resolved if I find a new template I like. In the meantime, I still think it was a good idea to freshen up the look a little. After all, a baby born when I started this blog would probably be entering his or her senior year in high school this year. 

** I'm still planning to re-invigorate my podcasting platforms in the next few weeks, especially now that I have more time to devote to them. But I'd also like to take some of this time to do what they call in Australia a "walkabout" ... or in my case, jumping into the ragtop, pointing it elsewhere and then heading there.

I've always loved driving, since the days when my parents would load me into the '56 Chevy for the annual 2,600-mile round-trip drive to Florida to visit my grandparents, as well as my frequent drives to and from Northwestern in my college days. Yeah, I'm older now and I have to take that into account, but I was thinking -- before all of the current North American nastiness erupted, that is -- of heading north into Canada, maybe to Montréal or maybe retracing my steps from a 1980s drive through the Maritime Provinces.

Those considerations were made, of course, before Donald Trump started this nonsense of demanding that Canada become our 51st state and then threatening to inflict all sorts of vindictive tariffs on that sovereign nation. Now, I'm not so sure.

Yes, I'd like to take a spin up there. I'd like to get back in touch with Molson and Labatt's, with Tim Hortons coffee and "viande fumee" (smoked meat) and maybe even try some poutine (never had it!). And it's not as if I am afraid of crossing the border. I don't think the Canadian border guards will be hostile. They, like most of their brethren, are generally polite, almost to a fault. They've also probably heard lots of Americans tell them, "I didn't vote for the son of a bitch!" and so on.

The true north, strong and free.

It may also help that I am fond of wearing a small flag pin on the collar of my polo shirts, a faithful representation of the maple leaf in all its glory. I've worn those since I used to make frequent "beer runs" to Montréal back in the 1970s, bringing back multiple cases of the high-test Molson Brador brew (8.5 percent alcohol) in those little squatty bottles you don't see anymore. I wasn't smuggling; I always paid the duty fee at the U.S. border.

No, I'm more afraid of coming back to my native land. I have no idea if Trump has replaced the border guards with his neo-Gestapo ICE thugs, and if the sight of the flag pin and one half-empty Tim Hortons cup is going to get me thrown into an El Salvadorian gulag.

If I do make the trip, I intend to bring along my mixing board and a new laptop computer, and I should be able to put together some "on the road" podcasts with some new technology. Those might come in handy if I'm processed for deportation as an undesirable upon re-entering Highgate Springs, Vt.

** And finally, some of you may recall my old friend Jackie Pepper, who served as a reporter and sports anchor for NBC Sports Boston and NECN back in the 2000s. Barely 5 feet tall, but feisty and enthusiastic in her work, no one could burrow her way through a scrum of reporters to get right to the source of the group interview better than Peps. 

My friend Jackie Pepper.

The Boston TV market has always been volatile, especially in the cable realm, so Jackie returned to her native Los Angeles and held a variety of positions, including at TMZ and KNBC, before landing a great job as a senior video producer for Yahoo! Sports, where she won a prestigious Edward R. Murrow Award for her work.

Part of what gave Jackie the confidence and energy to excel in life was her association in her youth with Camp JCA Shalom in Malibu and the Shalom Institute. The organization operates a camp, conference and retreat center, focused upon instilling Jewish values, promoting sustainability principles and practices, and being welcoming and inclusive to people of all ages and abilities.

As I have gotten to know Jackie a lot better since her brief tenure in Boston ended, I have learned just how much she treasured her experiences at the camp, and the bonds she forged there. Truly, the friendships she made there have lasted a lifetime, and the lessons she learned made her one of the most confident and personable individuals I have met in the sports media.

But the camp faced a severe challenge to its very existence when, on Nov. 9, 2018, one of the most destructive wildfires to leave a charred path through the southern California landscape destroyed more than 95 percent of the buildings on the Malibu campus. The institute amazingly had most of its programs operating at other sites within four months of the fire, and then it embarked upon the effort to rebuild.

Jackie has made the full commitment to help. Since February, she has been a full-time development associate for the Shalom Institute, and today she put a post on social media that included links to a story about how new facilities on the original Malibu campus are starting to open to the next generation of campers. But the work has really just begun.

I know how much that camp meant to her, and I also know how personally devastated she was when the wildfire claimed it. She's putting 100 percent of her efforts behind the quest to offer new generations the same opportunities she had to experience personal and spiritual growth. I really have to respect that.

I wouldn't ask you to reach into your wallets and contribute, as I have, if I didn't believe in the sincerity of her efforts. You can learn more about the Shalom Institute and its goals at this website: Home - Shalom Institute.

** We'll be back with more posts soon ... but hopefully, not sent out by carrier pigeon from within an El Salvadorian gulag. Cheers!

MARK FARINELLA wrote for The Sun Chronicle of Attleboro, Mass., for 42 years. You may send him cakes with hacksaws hidden inside, but not at his email address -- which is theownersbox2020@gmail.com.