Ponderous thoughts I was pondering ...

My tools of the trade are more electronic than analog these days.

Ponderous thoughts I was pondering before loading tables, chairs and electronics into the SUV for a game in Plainville and hoping the thundershowers will stay away, all being a rite of New England springtime:

** Obviously, I have a lot more time on my hands than I used to. Such is life in retirement from the daily work grind. People ask me if I miss my days as a swashbuckling defender of truth, justice and accurate box scores in the newspaper, which are now almost seven full years in the past, and it takes me a couple of seconds to come up with a legitimate answer.

The truth is, I do -- and I don't.

I do in that I fully realize these days how fortunate I was to have a job in local journalism that was fulfilling and enabled me to straddle the world of big-time professional sports and the local high school sports that I always loved so much. 

I covered just about every level of the sporting world during my tenure at The Sun Chronicle and dalliances with other news-gathering organizations. I covered nine NFL Super Bowls, including quite possibly the most exciting one ever played -- and of course, I'm talking about the Patriots' overtime victory over Atlanta in Super Bowl 51. And because I had been able to convince (some would say "con") The Sun Chronicle into committing a lot of financial resources into sending me on the road for a couple of decades, I got to see almost every important game the Patriots played during their two dynastic eras and so much more.

I also covered World Series games, NCAA basketball tournament games (both men's and women's), and all sorts of other major events over those many years. But when I'm asked what I count as my most exciting experiences as a sportswriter, I still point to two local circumstances above else -- the quest of Foxboro High's Sarah Behn to break the state basketball scoring record in 1989, and the day in March 2018 when both the Mansfield High boys and the Foxboro High girls both won state basketball championships at Springfield's MassMutual Center.

But at the same time, I don't miss it. And the main reason why?

Deadline work. 

Those that believe it's a glamorous life to hop from city to city and stadium to stadium covering pro football do not see the long hours slaving over the writing instruments (typewriters at first, then laptop computers) after each game is done. Especially when you're the guy working for the small newspaper trying to compete with the multiple writers sent to the same event by the large metropolitan newspapers, the workload is considerably larger.

I believe my personal record for stories of 16 or more inches written after a Super Bowl was 11, all of which made it into the newspaper the next day because The Sun Chronicle was then published in the afternoons. I came close to that after our change to morning publication with 10, three of which appeared only on our web page because of deadlines.

And those were just the Super Bowls. My usual average after any pro game was seven stories, all written in place at the stadium following a game. It usually took about three hours -- the only benefit to that being that it usually emptied out the Foxboro parking lots by the time I was finished.

That's a young man's job, and I willingly and enthusiastically attacked it. But by the time I was in my 60s, it was much harder to accomplish. And, with shrinking revenues and less space in the daily newspaper because of it, it became impossible to accomplish toward the end of my career. 

But try as I might to keep the coverage at a high level, I was still exhausted at the end of the night. And after suffering a mild stroke in 2014, it became a concern going forward that too much stress would not be good for me. 

I had planned to retire around St. Patrick's Day in 2019, but the fates took control and altered the plan. New ownership of the newspaper threw me out on my ear in the last week of August 2018. I expected it; the writing had been on the wall for weeks after the sale that lots of staff was going to be let go for the bottom line, and I was an expensive commodity. Fortunately, I had also planned well for my future, so the disappointment of enduring such an ignominious end to my career was mitigated by the realization that most everything was going to be OK.

These days, I'm still fulfilled with a continuing involvement in covering high school sports as a play-by-play announcer for North Attleborough Community Television, Mansfield Cable Access and Foxboro Cable Access as a play-by-play announcer. I'm no Vin Scully, Curt Gowdy or Gil Santos and I never will be, and it sometimes frustrates me that it's a little tougher to climb that learning curve in my 70s than it might have been 50 years ago. But I do love the job and I've gotten to announce state championships and hopefully provide a strong-voiced and enthusiastic call for the athletes to cherish in recorded memories.

Gobis and I are still on the job. Just less.

I am asked frequently if I'm disappointed in what has happened to my old newspaper's sports coverage since my departure and the retirement of Peter Gobis (who still contributes some in retirement). I quickly answer that they should respect the effort being made by staff writer Tyler Hetu to keep the local coverage comprehensive despite demands and challenges that Gobis and I stopped facing in the 1970s when the paper's growth skyrocketed. He's doing a good job, folks. 

It's still a lot of fun to be involved -- even if I do have to carry a lot more heavy equipment to the fields and courts than I used to. In truth, the level of effort is almost perfect for an old man with a young man's heart.

** I was shocked this week to learn that old friend Missy Traversi had left her job as the head coach of the Army-West Point women's basketball team. I was even more shocked to read that it was being framed in some corners as a dismissal, although it was called a "mutual agreement" in the official press release issued by the military academy.

Missy Traversi made Army a winner.

I reached out to Missy, and she assured me that she was "in a good place," but she did not offer any more insight into the situation -- which is her right. A personal statement she released upon her departure certainly made it sound as if it was an emotional decision, and she said she was now going to devote more time to her family, and to be honest. I have no cause nor any license to want to pry any deeper.

But the old journalist in me is struggling with why this happened. Missy had just completed her most successful season in four years at Army -- 25-8, just missing an NCAA Division 1 berth, and going two rounds deep into the Women's NIT, which was a first for the Black Knights of the Hudson. She was 66-55 at Army, which might just be the toughest place to coach in all of NCAA basketball because her recruiting base is severely limited, the athletes at service academies cannot partake in NIL benefits, and their five-year service commitment post-graduation kicks in after two years of attendance, negating the value of the transfer portal.

One thing that irked me was the wording of the Army press release. Not only did it not thank Missy for her accomplishments, it said that a search would be conducted to find a coach that would "recruit, educate, train, and inspire leaders of character who are committed to the Army Values through an extraordinary Division I athletic experience."

I believe that's exactly what Missy did.

Maybe at some point, Missy will share in more depth what happened -- but that will be up to her to choose whether it's anyone's business to know. I hope all is well for my long-time friend, and I salute her for bringing her trademark "inspiring brand of basketball" to West Point, just as she had at every step up the coaching ladder she has taken.

I don't think we've seen the last of Missy Traversi on the sidelines.

** Recently, I had one of those very irritating circumstances that required quick action on my part to avert a potentially calamitous result.

There was a data breach at my bank, affecting all of the accounts I held there. The situation had been nipped in the bud by the proper authorities, but the bank still recommended that I change all my account numbers -- which I did, promptly.

Unfortunately, one aspect of that was a complete change of checking accounts. Since I first signed up for checking with this bank (or its predecessor) in 1971, my check numbers stayed consistent for the entire time I had the account -- which means that before the breach happened, I was writing checks with the identifying numbers "8871" and so on, and was hoping to reach five figures before my check-writing days were over.

Sadly, the new account reverted to "101," and from there I continue.

The silly things people worry about ...

** A recent story in the Boston Globe said that new Patriots' coach Mike Vrabel is having a closeout sale at Gillette Stadium, trying to rid the franchise of all things related to Bill Belichick and Jerod Mayo. As evidence, the story said that there are now more than 40 new individuals on the roster, and the number continues to grow.

Mike Vrabel has the reins.

Well, I'm good with that. In case you haven't noticed, the last five years or so have really sucked.

Years ago, when Bill Parcells first came to the Patriots and he started changing everything in sight, I had the occasion to quibble a bit over some changes in media access to the team. I wrote him a letter (I thought that was the dignified way to do it), and as soon as he received it, he was on the phone to me almost instantly.

It didn't start as a pleasant phone call, and I recall Parcells bellowing at me in a voice that would melt steel, "It's my team now, and I have to do what I think is right."

And he was absolutely right. That's why he was hired. He had a vision for what a real NFL team should be, and it was his job to turn that into reality.

By the way, the call went a lot better after that. Once Bill understood that I wasn't just trying to be a selfish little douchebag whining about where I had to stand during practice, and that I really cared about maintaining a certain comprehensive level of coverage for the benefit of my readers, the conversation became amicable and productive. Bill bent a little on a few of his new rules -- not much, but even a little was a lot for him -- and the result was, as Humphrey Bogart said to Claude Rains at the end of Casablanca, "the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Or at the very least, a good working relationship, which I cherish to this day.

Tear it up and start again, Mike. 

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