Buildings rise and fall, but memories endure.

Allegiant Stadium in Las Vegas, home to the Super Bowl. I haven't been there.

We have a new set of Super Bowl qualifiers, the Kansas City Chiefs and San Francisco 49ers, and the entire world is buzzing over the infusion of new excitement into the NFL's championship game. 

No, it's not over Patrick Mahomes' premature ascension to the level of GOAT by scatterbrained pundits that don't remember a guy that just retired with seven rings on his hands, or the brash rookie quarterback that revived a storied West Coast franchise's fortunes. It's whether Taylor Swift can return in time to the Western Hemisphere from a concert commitment in Japan to see her boyfriend, Chiefs' tight end Travis Kelce, play in the big game in Las Vegas.

Well, that, among other things.

The advent of another Super Bowl usually sets me to thinking. I covered nine of them over my 42-year career as an NFL beat writer -- part of a career that got me to all of the NFL's host cities, or at least the ones the NFL called home by the time I retired. 

Travel was fun. My Facebook page presents me every day with memories of past posts, and for the last few weeks, I've been seeing old snapshots I took during my 10-day relocations to the host cities. I'm a little too old these days to want to set up shop like that in unfamiliar surroundings, even if it was on my company's dole and not coming out of my own pocket, but it was a great experience -- and something, when I joined the staff of The Sun Chronicle on Feb. 7, 1977, that I never envisioned I'd have the opportunity to do.

During my 42 years on the Patriots beat, as I said, I got to visit all of the league's stadiums. But it set me to wondering exactly how many of those there were ... after all, most of the teams relocated to new facilities (sometimes even new cities) during that time. Indeed, so did the Patriots. I never went to one of their games during their tenures at Nickerson Field, Fenway Park, Harvard Stadium or BC's Alumni Stadium, but I was front and center as a high school kid in a distant 300-level seat at Schaefer Stadium when it opened in 1971, as I was as a writer for opening night at Gillette Stadium in 2002. 

With that in mind, I thought I'd share with you the identities of all of those home venues and a few memories from each. We'll start with the AFC venues because there are a lot of stories to tell. Sit back and grab some snacks; this one is going to take a while.

BUFFALO BILLS

Highmark Stadium

The infamous ramp in Buffalo.

Originally opened as Rich Stadium in 1973, a lot of people don't know that it was built from updated blueprints from Schaefer Stadium. It's as if they looked at what they did in Foxboro, figured out what they did wrong, and tried to fix it two years later. Look at photos of it, and you will see the familiar three-level footprint of our own long-departed precursor to Gillette.

After I left the beat, the stadium was reconfigured to turn the press box level into luxury boxes. I recall it to have had a terrific view of the field, but hardly any heat. Only the hot chocolate served in the press box made it tolerable on a cold winter day. The stadium also mirrored Schaefer in that to access the locker rooms after a game, reporters had to exit into the crowds leaving the game and walk around to an end zone administration building to reach an entrance to the ramp leading from the field. Venture too far down that ramp and out to the field surface, and you risked having 32-ounce beers thrown at your head by members of the Bills Mafia.

I don't miss the place, but I will be sad when it's replaced a few years from now. And if there's one thing I miss about Buffalo, it's a little place called Duff's in the town of Amherst, where they serve the best Buffalo wings in all of creation. Forget the Anchor Bar -- that's a tourist trap. Duff's is where Real Men go for their wings.

MIAMI DOLPHINS

Orange Bowl, Hard Rock Stadium

Pre-renovation Land Shark Stadium.

Most of the games I have attended in Miami were at the stadium with many names -- originally Joe Robbie Stadium, built in the little hamlet of Miami Gardens and named for the legendary owner of the team, which went on to be known by a variety of corporate-sellout names, including Pro Player Stadium (athletic attire), Land Shark Stadium (beer), SunLife Stadium (insurance) and now Hard Rock Stadium (decadence). And I'm sure I left out a few.

But the funniest thing that happened to me in Miami was at at the old Orange Bowl during the 1985 season, in which the Patriots later advanced to Super Bowl 20. On the night when they won the AFC Championship Game there, reporters had to stay a long time to write their stories. And when we were finished, we found to our horror that the stadium staff had gotten everyone out of the old building and locked the gates as they left, not realizing there were about 15 writers and the Patriots' media relations director of the time, Jim Greenidge, still at work.

We covered the entire circumference of the stadium several times looking for a way out. None could be found. It got to the point that Pete Farley, then the sports editor of the Brockton Enterprise (and father of Glen Farley, who would cover the team for three decades afterward), shouted to some individuals hanging out outside the stadium for assistance. They just laughed; the Orange Bowl was not in a very nice neighborhood, and those out at that late hour would not be predisposed to help.

These were the days before cellular phones, so that further complicated our situation., But eventually, Greenidge found a working pay phone and called a Dolphins' executive, and eventually people came to set us free.

The baseball diamond at Joe Robbie.

Joe Robbie Stadium, as Hard Rock was originally known, was an upgrade at the time of its opening. But it changed over time. First it became a baseball stadium as well, often leaving a cutout infield in the middle of the football field. Then, it also caved in to those that wanted more luxury-box space, so the football press box was squeezed into what had been the baseball press box before the Marlins moved out.

It was, by far, the worst view of the field in all of football. But if you had the misfortune of being assigned to the auxiliary booth a few levels lower, that was even worse. Fortunately, I never was.

I haven't been to the place since it underwent a considerable renovation, including faux roofing over the stands to protect South Floridians from the scorching sun. I'm told it's still a terrible place to watch a game.

NEW YORK JETS

NEW YORK GIANTS

Shea Stadium, Giants Stadium, MetLife Stadium

These two franchises have shared the same venues for several decades, but at least I date back to when the Jets played at Shea, home of the Mets, but very well adaptable to football.

Two stadiums in the Meadowlands.

My first road game was a Patriots-Jets game in 1981, the first game in which punter Ken Hartley made his NFL debut. Ken was a King Philip graduate that attended Catawba College in North Carolina, and it was only natural that the local paper would assign me to take a 200-mile ride to Flushing Meadows to cover his game.

I don't remember much about the actual game. What I remember is that it was much easier to park at Shea than it weas in Foxboro, and that I typed my story on a portable typewriter and handed the copy paper and a $5 bill to someone from a company called "Amfax," so he could electronically send a copy of what I wrote to my newspaper over an amazing, newfangled thing called a fax machine. 

Giants Stadium was quite an edifice. Although it was in the middle of a New Jersey swamp, it represented everything New York -- big, majestic, a commanding presence rising out of nowhere. And yet again, the media got the short end of the stick when, during a 1990s renovation, the press box was relocated to the top of the building, and it made the players look like ants below. The commerical jets landing at Newark Airport were closer.

Scoreboard rays prevent overpopulation.

Ditto with MetLife. It is huge. A little on the soulless side, although they do have a way to change the ambient colors of the place from blue to green depending upon whose home game it is on that particular day.

The press box at MetLife is on the far left side of the field at the middle level of the stadium, but that means we're positioned right next to one of the four huge Jumbotron scoreboards at the corners of the stadium. You actually feel the images change on those boards, you're so close. If you're wondering why I've never had children, that may be the reason.

I drove to the Meadowlands more and more toward the end of my tenure of the beat, and one of the joys of the four-hour trip was, upon nearing the East Rutherford turnoff on New Jersey Route 17, passing by the "Bada Bing" -- the actual strip club (called "Satin Dolls") that was used for location shooting for "The Sopranos." Got to admit, I often looked to my right and saw (in my mind's eye, if not actually) Tony, Christopher, Paulie Walnuts, Silvio Dante and the rest of the crew planning their nefarious schemes.

PITTSBURGH STEELERS

Three Rivers Stadium, Acrisure Stadium

Three Rivers Stadium in the fall of 1976.

I had attended a few baseball games at Three Rivers when I visited a friend during my college years, but I was also there for a memorable game involving the Patriots and Steelers.

It was during Bill Parcells' coaching tenure, and fans tended to walk around the circular bowl and pause at openings in the concourse that served as overlooks to the field. Often, they would crowd too much into the small space -- and on this particular afternoon, the guardrail gave way and several fans plunged to the field below -- only about 10-12 feet, so fortunately, no one was seriously hurt. 

Once the game was over, I strolled over to the place where the debris had fallen, and I picked up a small chunk of concrete and pocketed it as a souvenir. I still have it, and it is displayed in my house next to some of the rubble from the demolition of Foxboro Stadium.

The Heinz Field press box.

I will always remember its successor as Heinz Field and not the current name. I always thought the bright yellow seats were more reminiscent of mustard and not Heinz's signature product, ketchup, but the yellow was chosen as one of the Steelers' primary colors.

As the newer stadiums go, it was no better and no worse than most. Parking was a pain in the ass. The press box seating rows were very steeply configured to squeeze a lot of reporters into a relatively small space. But I will give them due props for having nearby restrooms that were impeccably clean and had at least 12 available stalls for our convenience. You don't know how important that is when your digestive tract occasionally rebels against press box food.

But I will say one thing for Heinz Field (or whatever it's called now). It is perfectly located at the confluence of three major rivers, it serves the need of its fan base, and it has been embraced by the fans -- especially now that the Pirates have their own nearby ballpark and the teams don't have to share a cookie-cutter monstrosity. And it was fun to see the Patriots stick their AFC Championship Game wins in the faces of those haughty Pittsburgh fans.

CINCINNATI BENGALS

Riverfront Stadium, Paul Brown Stadium

Riverfront Stadium, another 1960s cookie-cutter.

What I remember most about Riverfront Stadium is not the stadium itself, but the fact that it was built almost touching the Ohio River. To go from the parking garage to the press box entrance, you'd walk outside onto a promenade that had a spectacular view of the river and all that entailed.

I also recall on my first visit to that city that Glen Farley and I walked out of the hotel after checking in, and found to our surprise that we were in the midst of the annual Oktoberfest staged in downtown Cincinnati -- a smorgasbord of food and beer and fun times that was ours for the taking. And we did.

Later, after resting up, we and other reporters ventured to a little hole-in-the-wall barbecue place called the "Barn Rib Pit." It was snuggled into a small space with a back-alley entrance, and you'd hardly know it was there. But once inside, you'd see the walls plastered with photos of great sports figures of Cincinnati's past, and like them, we'd soon be chowing down on some of the best barbecue ribs I've ever had.

Sadly, I learned later that the Barn Rib Pit met the wrecker's ball a few years after that visit, during a wave of urban renewal. It was not rebuilt or reopened elsewhere.

Years passed, and I didn't return to Cincy until after Paul Brown Stadium was opened. It was new and fresh, but kind of soulless, and it looked lopsided because the endzone scoreboard was designed to look as if it was styled by the designers that came up with tailfins for cars in the 1950s.

It was the 2001 season opener, and I watched future Patriot Corey Dillon run the Patriots into the ground for a disappointing defeat. The next day, I departed from Cincinnati for Chicago's O'Hare Airport, from where I went on to Boston. I drove directly from Logan to a friend's house in North Falmouth where I would take a few days off.

Upon waking up the next morning to the roar of fighter jets taking off from Otis Air Force Base and immediately going to afterburners, I turned on the television and saw the image of the World Trade Center towers billowing smoke from where commercial jets had crashed into them.

Paul Brown Stadium at night.

I got to Paul Brown Stadium one more time, and although it was years later, the impact of Sept. 11, 2001, was still felt during that trip. I was given a parking pass to a garage under the stadium, and dutifully parked my rental there. But unbeknownst to me, those passes were invalid and stadium security towed my car from that space to an outdoor lot near the adjacent Great American Ballpark, home of the Reds. Of course, they didn't tell me.

After hours of wandering the lot, looking for my rental along with Worcester Telegram writer Rich Garven, and trying to call authorities only to have bad cellular service foil me at every turn, I was ready to accept a ride from a couple of photographers from the Providence Journal when, on our last pass through the expansive lot, I spied the blue Corolla in the distance, next to the baseball stadium. 

It's a good thing, too, because I didn't have a spare $17,000 to pay the Hertz Corp. for a lost car.

CLEVELAND BROWNS

Municipal Stadium, Cleveland Browns Stadium

The "Mistake by the Lake."

You may recall that there was a fairly momentous game in the 1994 AFC playoffs between Bill Parcells' upstart Patriots and the Cleveland Browns, coached by Parcells' former defensive coordinator with the Giants, some guy named Bill Belichick.

What you will learn only here was how awful a game it was for me to attend.

Back in those days, when I was in my early 40s, I used to suffer from irritable bowel syndrome. If you are offended by such information, I advise you to skip ahead a few paragraphs.

The playoff game was on Jan. 1, 1995. The temperature was in the high-teens and low-20s, and there was little in the way of climate control inside the old football press box at Municipal Stadium -- although writers that had been assigned to the auxiliary press box (also the baseball press box for the Indians) basked in warmth the whole game.

I had eaten a breakfast at my hotel before the game, and it didn't agree with me. About a half-hour before gametime, I was facing a fecal emergency. I had to go and I had no choice.

Inside this antiquated press box, there was just one bathroom -- exclusively for males (that was the state of American sportswriting of the day). And inside it was only one sit-down stall. Still wearing a full winter coat, I managed to squeeze into the tiny stall, dropped my naked ass upon the freezing-cold seat, and let loose with one of the worst imaginable cases of diarrhea possible. It was, in a word, hellacious. 

About 15 minutes later, I emerged from the stall and opened the door to the press box -- where I was instantly greeted with exclamations of angst and various insults for having unleashed such an unmerciful stink upon my fellow writers. I can't say I blamed them, although given the state of media digestive tracts in the 1990s, it's not like I was the only one to have ever dropped a weapon of mass destruction inside a press box crapper.

The Patriots lost that game, and the other thing I recall is that post-game interviews had to be conducted in the hallway outside the tiny visiting team locker room. The toilets and showers had overflowed inside the lockers and spilled out into the open-air concourse beyond, and I recall interviewing Parcells while a river of shit and soapy water turned into ice around my feet.

Ah, Cleveland.

Yes, you can see Lake Erie from inside.

When the new stadium opened to accommodate the expansion team known as the Browns, it was a godsend. Beautiful and modern, it was a shining addition to the lakefront landscape. Parking, however, was on a jetty that extended well into Lake Erie, built to accommodate loading docks for cargo ships.

On this particular day, which started out just a little cold and moderately breezy, the late Dick Cerasuolo of the Worcester Telegram and I parked in one of the spaces that was as far as it could be from the entrance of Cleveland Browns Stadium. Once we got to the press entrance, we somehow got a little confused with the new surroundings, and ended up walking through several luxury boxes until we realized we were on the wrong side of the stadium. The press box was on the opposite side.

The weather grew increasingly bad during the game, leading me to remember the immortal words of former Red Sox pitcher Dennis "Oil Can" Boyd ("That's what you get when you build a stadium next to the ocean.") Cerasuolo and I braved the walk to my car through squalls and lake spray, only to find that it was high tide, and that the rental was halfway wheels-deep in Lake Erie when we got there.

Yes, we walked through the water and managed to get into the car without flooding it, and we drove out of there without floating to Canada first.

The stadium was renamed FirstEnergy Stadium when naming rights were sold, but a big scandal has prompted the city to revoke naming rights and it will return to its original name this year.

Ah, Cleveland.

TENNESSEE TITANS

Nissan Stadium

Nissan Stadium, soon to go.

It puzzles me that cities are so quick to replace their stadiums these days. Nissan Stadium (or Adelphia Stadium as I knew it) was perfectly fine for a city of Nashville's size. It's very similar to Gillette in size and mission, it has great sightlines and good parking, and when I was there, they had telephones at every press box seat location for our free use -- again, before the days when the Internet became the most important tool for the media.

As I am not into country music, I can't say I took much advantage of all Nashville has to offer in that area. The one thing that stands out in my memory was that the Marriott hotel in which I stayed was positioned so that my room's window afforded me a direct view of the playing field within Vanderbilt University's football stadium. 

My last trip there was a quick in-and-out ... late arrival on a Saturday, full game day and early departure on Monday morning. My dinner on Friday night was an Outback Steakhouse that was just about to close for the night. Pretty pathetic, huh?

BALTIMORE RAVENS

Memorial Stadium, M&T Bank Stadium

Memorial Stadium for an Orioles' game.

Regrettably, I never got to see the Colts play in Baltimore. But I did get to see their stadium -- Memorial Stadium, which I had visited for a four-game series against the Red Sox in 1978, in the first year of the Ravens' existence after their move from Cleveland.

By that time, Memorial Stadium was on its last legs. It had been built in a residential area many years earlier, and our parking was across the street in a Catholic high school's parking lot. I remember that the hallways leading from the media check-in to the press box elevator were old and grimy, with bathroom-style linoleum tiles that were practically worn through to the cement below. And although the Colts had played there for decades before, the Ravens' football press box was in end-zone space once used by the Orioles' media.

After the game, which was made memorable by rookie Tedy Bruschi's failure to catch a pass on a fake punt, I and five other writers prepared to cram into my rented Ford Crown Victoria for a ride back to our hotel. Once everyone put their computer bags in the large trunk of the car, I found to my horror that the trunk latch would not hold the lid shut. But crisis is the mother of invention; I took a telephone extension cord from my bag and tied the trunk shut. 

It wasn't long thereafter that Memorial Stadium was razed. In its place now stands apartment buildings for seniors.

Also on that trip, I broke new ground in another area. The day before the game, I met a young woman in person at a brew pub in the Inner Harbor area of downtown. She and I met in an America Online chat room, and wouldn't you know it, we started from that meeting a relationship of long-distance dating that lasted for three years.

Johnny U at M&T.

M&T Bank Stadium wasn't particularly memorable. I do remember being particularly impressed by the statue of Johnny Unitas in front of the main entrance, even though he never played a single snap of football inside it. I also chuckled at the full purple treatment of the seating bowl, although it was appropriate given the Ravens' team colors. Otherwise, it was what I had come to expect from the new wave of stadiums -- all roughly the same, with enough specific distinction to please the locals. 

And it's close enough to the stadium that started the retro-look revolution in pro sports, Oriole Park at Camden Yards, making a once-dreary warehouse neighborhood into a hub of sports excitement -- except when it's time for another Super Bowl with the Ravens absent.

The Patriots almost lost a game there in 2007 that would have spoiled the perfect 16-0 regular season, but as we all know, that brush with history was meaningless in the end thanks to the Giants. And the relationship with Miss Baltimore ended badly. So much for Baltimore.

INDIANAPOLIS COLTS

RCA Dome, Lucas Oil Stadium

The RCA Dome and its stupid banners.

When the Colts moved out to Indy, it was like they had moved to another world -- a vast wasteland interrupted by a tiny little downtown, with an inflatable-roofed stadium dropped into the middle of it.

That was the RCA Dome, a glorified arena that pretended to be a stadium, where they hung divisional championship banners like participation trophies from the Teflon panels that constituted the roof.

I recall the Dome as always being colder than it should have been. The original press box was fully exposed to the stands and well within reach of those in the cheap seats to turn around and say hello -- or potentially steal our laptop computers, which thankfully, they never did. Hoosiers are far too polite.

This was another place where the owners decided they needed more luxury boxes, so not long before the stadium was razed to make way for Lucas Oil Stadium, they moved our press box as close to the ceiling as possible without us being able to touch the Teflon roof. They also installed speakers in the seating configuration of the press box that carried the sounds of the stadium noise (much of it prerecorded and fake) and public-address announcements directly into the ears of those sitting in the front row. 

Try concentrating on your work with that cacophony in your eardrums for the whole game.

Lucas Oil Stadium.

For everything that was bad about the RCA Dome, however, Indianapolis redeemed itself with Lucas Oil Stadium. That building is simply spectacular. It has the charm of the old Butler University field house in its design (see "Hoosiers" for reference), with a retractable roof that can open in only 11 minutes as well as a wall of windows that can open to ventilate the place and present a charming view of Indianapolis' changing skyline. 

It's comfortable, easy to navigate, and was a spectacular site for Super Bowl 46 -- which, while another regrettable loss by the Patriots to the Giants, was one I enjoyed the most because of the nearness of my well-appointed hotel to the convention center (and media HQ) and the stadium. And it also helped that Indianapolis had a stretch of unseasonably warm winter weather that week, enhancing the walkable nature of the city's small downtown.

A truly impressive stadium in Indy.

Of all of the newer stadium's I've visited, Lucas Oil has to be my favorite. It's just gorgeous. It mixes the retro elements with functionality, great sightlines and all the modern amenities. It may be the one thing that redeemed my opinion of Indianapolis for all time -- but there might be just one other thing.

Indiabapolis has one of the all-time best steakhouses in the world, St. Elmo's, which is nationally renowned for the quality of its cuts of beef and freshly-shipped seafood -- and, most of all, the incredible shrimp cocktails with a horseradish sauce that is guaranteed to clear your sinuses for a month.

And if you can't get in because of the high demand, take a short stroll down the street to Harry & Izzy's. It's under the same ownership and has most of the same menu items, including the shrimp cocktail. You can't go wrong.

JACKSONVILLE JAGUARS

Everbank Field

Everbank Field. It's still a big dump.

I only saw the Jaguars play once in what was originally the Gator Bowl, rebuilt and expanded to accommodate the NFL. It was a playoff game, one in which Scott Zolak started at quarterback because of a finger injury suffered by Drew Bledsoe, and he lost. It had been 25 degrees there the night before the game, and I remember feeling cheated because Florida is supposed to be warm in January.

But I was there for Super Bowl 39, in which the Patriots defeated the Philadelphia Eagles to firmly entrench the team's reputation as a dynasty.

Despite the best efforts of the forks in the city where my father met my mother in the waning days of World War II, what was then called ALLTEL Stadium was a dump. I was sitting next to an aisle in the press box, in the second of three rows, with Tom King of the Nashua Telegraph and Jen Toland of the Worcester Telegram sitting nearby, and as the game unfolded, I smelled something foul from below.

Needless to say, the men's room behind me was having plumbing issues, and water tainted with human waste was cascading down the steps next to my feet.

It was not long after that the Patriots were in a goal-line situation, and I blurted out to my friends nearby, "Everybody cover Vrabel." Obviously, the Eagles did not have any spies nearby; Mike Vrabel, one of the Patriots' linebackers, set up as an extra tight end and caught a touchdown pass, giving the Patriots full control of the game.

Bruschi at Media Day.

This stadium was also notable in that it marked one of the last times that "Media Day," on the Monday of the week before the Super Bowl, was actually conducted in open air. The NFL later opted to have the huge gatherings of media inside domed stadiums, or other nearby enclosed facilities.

Super Bowl 39 also is memorable because there was a media scandal during the early stages of the hype week. One of the two reporters send by the Worcester Telegram was found to have plagiarized several stories during the season, including those by national writers as well as local scribes. He was immediately recalled to Worcester, and high school sportswriter Rich Garven was hurriedly dispatched to Jacksonville to join Jen Toland.

It was a dizzying situation for both writers, who never anticipated such a disruption in their duties. It was thus the task of the other reporters of the so-called "Suburban Alliance" -- reporters not operating in the shadows of the Boston or Providence writers -- to make this transition easier for them.

On top of all that, Jacksonville was a weird place to have a Super Bowl. City officials were proud to show off their redevelopment of the shoreline of the St. Johns River (no apostrophe), but that was good for a couple of hours of diversion and not much else. Besides, most of the New England media was housed in the Jacksonville Marriott, several miles south of the convention center, so our best bet for affordable and uncrowded entertainment was to head east on Fla. Route 202 toward Jacksonville Beach.

We found a place called the "Seven Bridges Brew Pub," which is still in operation. They had good food, freshly-brewed beer and live music. Toland coined a name for the band playing there that week -- the "Earthwind Moreland Band," she called it, because the lead singer resembled the little-known Patriots' backup cornerback of the time. That establishment became a favorite during our work week in Jacksonville, and more and more people were crammed into my rented Corolla as the week passed, all looking to blow off some steam away from the official NFL facilities.

Finally, with the game in the books, a group of reporters piled into their rented cars on the day before departure and drove all the way to the coast and the famous Route A1A, where not far from the TPC Sawgrass golf course, we found a little restaurant whose name I cannot remember. It was, however, the first time in my life that I had ever eaten alligator. I had spent much of my childhood making annual trips to central Florida to visit my grandparents, but I had never before eaten alligator.

Yup. It tasted like chicken.

HOUSTON TEXANS

NRG Stadium

Super Bowl 38 at then-Reliant Stadium.

I have plenty of memories from Houston, given that I saw one Pats-Texans game and two Super Bowls in what was originally called Reliant Stadium. To chronicle all of them would use up all of this blog's bandwidth. So let's try to boil them down to the nuts and bolts as best I can.

The stadium itself is very impressive. It's huge, with a great view of the field from a palatial press box. And what amazes me the most is that it absolutely dwarfs the Astrodome, once regarded as one of the Modern Wonders of the World but now a deteriorating relic that nobody in the whole state of Texas seems to know what to do with.

Houston itself was a colossal disappointment in many ways. It's too spread out, has far too much traffic driving in and out of the city at almost all times of day, and, well, it's Texas. If there a state in the Union that has its head up its own ass as far as it can possibly go, it's Texas.

Me and Rich Garven, before we had
to start re-writing everything.

The last time I was there, I was privileged to see the best Super Bowl ever played. Of course, that was Super Bowl 51, the Patriots against Atlanta, rallying from a 28-3 deficit to win in overtime and all that. And it was the last Super Bowl I ever covered. At the time, I had a feeling my days on the road would be numbered because of the expense, and I remember telling a reporter seated next to me that if this was the last one I would ever see in person, I went out with the best.

Of course, that was after the Patriots started scoring touchdowns in the second half to make the comeback seem possible. And it was also after I cursed them out for forcing me to scrap everything I had written in the first half and starting from scratch in anticipation of an entirely new outcome.

Houston does have "good" barbecue, I'll give it that. During my first trip there, I frequented a place called "Goode Co. Barbeque," where you stood in a big tent outside the main building and went through a buffet line, and the servers would just heap piles and piles of BBQ on your plate before you couldn't carry any more. It was sumptuous. I'm told it was very popular with the baseball writers.

That called to mind my first trip to Houston, for Super Bowl 38. I arranged for a courtesy car from the NFL, a brand new Cadillac CTS, and I and four other writers took the 40-mile journey north to a town called Tomball, Texas, where the father of Patriots' linebacker Ted Johnson (Ted Sr.) ran a barbecue shack. We went in, introduced ourselves as New England writers, and were treated to an incredible feast while Ted's dad regaled us with stories of his son as a boy. And when he tried to comp us for the meal, every single one of us refused and paid good, hard U.S. currency for it, with a generous tip. Contrary to popular belief, reporters aren't always looking for handouts. 

I went back there 13 years later, looking to renew acquaintances with Ted Sr. on my last day in Texas -- only to find that his restaurant was closed on Mondays. Damn.

Minute Maid Park, NFL style.

The SB 51 visit also contained a unique "Media Day" for us reporters. The NFL had gotten out of the practice of having their first media gathering in the host stadium in the daytime, so for prime-time exposure, the league rented out the Astros' Minute Maid Park and let us stroll the entire playing surface going from player to player -- and all of live on the NFL Network.

In a way, we were fortunate any of that happened at all. Prior to Super Bowl Week, the Houston area was inundated with severe flooding from torrential rains. There were still portions of the city underwater when the NFL came calling. Not that the NFL cared at all, of course -- the show must go on, and it did.

Ironic it was that one of my more lasting memories of that trip was the swimming pool at the Marriott Hotel, built in the shape of the state of Texas. I don't remember seeing any razor wire around the pool's edge, however.

I know, that was long before the current foolishness in the Lone Star State. I just hope things straighten themselves out in a more Christian manner as the weeks and months ahead unfold. I don't want to look back at these photos wistfully at some point in the future, and then glance at the 49-star flag waving outside my house.

DENVER BRONCOS

Mile High Stadium, Empower Field at Mile High

The original Mile High, and its successor.

If I have a favorite city among my travels, it is definitely Denver.

I love the mountains. I love the clear air (if you drive about 40 miles north, past Boulder, and get into the rarified air). I love the food. And I was always a fan of fresh Coors before you could get it anywhere and at any time. 

Above all else, I loved the original Mile High Stadium. Nowhere else did I learn the real power of the NFL, from having more than 70,000 orange-clad fans screaming in unison at a big play in the end zone. I learned that when, near the end of a game, as I was walking on the field around the enclosed end of the old horseshoe to get to the locker-room entrance, Denver's Rulon James sacked Tony Eason in the end zone. I had industrial deafness for days afterward. ABC's Monday Night Football used to include a clip of that hit during the intro, but the sound would have blown out the speakers on your TV.

A lot of people don't know that Mile High was built to be a multi-purpose stadium to house the Class AAA Denver Bears as well as football. To that end, one side of the stadium was built so that it could be floated on small reservoirs of water and then moved into a baseball configuration. The press box was on that side, and since there was next to no concrete to weigh down the stands, they shook as if experiencing an 8.5 earthquake when fans would start jumping up and down on them. It certainly made me think the end was near in my first visit to the place.

Fans flock to whatever this place is called.

The successor, again a multi-named facility that has managed to keep the "Mile High" tag on it as an afterthought, is certainly more modern. But Denver no longer has the loudest venue in the NFL because it's much larger and more spread out than its predecessor, and noise is not compressed into as small a space.

Still, Denver has had its great moments for me. I was also on the field for the famous intentional safety snap by Lonie Paxton that gave the Patriots possession one last time and gave Tom Brady the chance to throw the winning TD pass to David Givens. I was there for Ben Watson's 100-yard run to make a touchdown-saving tackle even though all hope was already gone in a playoff loss. And yes, I did see Peyton Manning and Wes Welker conspire to send the Patriots home from an AFC title game without another Super Bowl trip in hand.

I recall when Raymond Berry took the Patriots out to Colorado Springs to practice in cold weather and higher altitude before a playoff game. I made it to the Air Force Academy from Stapleton Airport just as practice was over and the only player left in the locker room was running back Craig James, but he was nice enough to heed my pleas for a few minutes of his time so I wouldn't go back to my hotel empty-handed and with no story to write.

Turns out the early departure was unnecessary. The weather was unseasonably warm on game day, sunny in the high-50s. The Patriots lost.

I was introduced to a true Western delicacy at a restaurant called The Fort in Morrison, Colo. -- Rocky Mountain Oysters, otherwise known as broiled buffalo testicles. Don't knock them if you haven't tried them. In a more traditional sense, I learned that buffalo steak, while more expensive, is much more healthy for you than beef.

And my first Indiana Jones hat? Bought it at a store in Denver, as well as two custom-made pairs of Nokona boots. 

I even toured the Coors brewery in Golden. Sneezed the whole time because of all the grain dust in the air, but it was worth it.

I don't miss Denver's new airport, which I think is somewhere in Nebraska -- and if you look at the runways from above, they look like the configuration of a swastika.

I won't hold that against my favorite city, however.

KANSAS CITY CHIEFS

Arrowhead Stadium

I'm not going to go all Gaga (oops, wrong singer) over Arrowhead. It's in the middle of nowhere, the parking is utter chaos, the place was showing its age when I was out there last, and I almost died on that trip.

I'm not exaggerating. I may have been about two seconds away from being a sizzling chunk of flesh on the tarmac at Chicago's O'Hare Airport during my trip home.

I don't get the point about Arrowhead.

It was Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2014. The Patriots had been embarrassed by the Chiefs, losing 41-14 on Monday Night Football, and I still had to get up early in the morning the next day to catch my flight to Chicago and make the connection to Logan. And because of the late game, two members of the Patriots Football Weekly staff were on the same plane, staying behind when the team charter left so they could remotely meet their deadlines for that week's publication.

The flight to Chicago was uneventful until we were headed for the runway at O'Hare. Suddenly, only a few seconds from wheels-down, the plane lurched up and began a tight circle around the control tower. A quick look out the windows on the starboard side of the aircraft provided me with a view of the right wing pointed directly perpendicular to the ground below. 

I glanced back at the two staffers from PFW. They looked back at me. I'm sure the same thought crossed our minds, and it probably started with the words, "Jesus Christ ... !!!"

Apparently, another airplane found its way onto the same runway where we were supposed to land. These guys flying the plane were pros and they knew how to react, but for those of us that get mad when people creep up on us when we're trying to parallel park, it was waaaaaay too close for comfort.

We took a victory lap around the Chicago suburbs, landed without further challenge, and we were all off to Boston soon enough. 

Hey, Kansas City has its positives. The barbecue is good, but the sauces are too sugary for me. Arrowhead has been upgraded and renovated since my trip, because it sorely needed it. And maybe the plans of the Royals to build their own baseball park downtown will benefit the Chiefs, because they will be able to fix their parking situation once Kaufmann Stadium is flattened.

Maybe they'll even build their own new stadium. They can call it their Mahomes Away From Home.

OAKLAND RAIDERS

Oakland-Alameida County Coliseum

OK, I know they don't play in Oakland anymore. If you want to see where they play now, go back to the top of this missive and you'll see a photo of the current venue. Take your time returning; we'll still be here when you get back.

The first time I saw the Raiders play, they were based at the Los Angeles Coliseum and they lost to the Patriots in the 1985 AFC Divisional Game. We'll be back to talk about Los Angeles when we get to the NFC portion of this retrospective.

Blow this up to see "It was a fumble."

Of course, you know that the relocated Raiders lost to the Patriots in the famous Snow Bowl game in the 2001 playoffs, the last game ever played in Foxboro Stadium. Here, we regard that game as the springboard to a dynasty. In Oakland, memories of the Tuck Rule still send the few remaining Raiders fans into convulsions.

My first visit was on Oct. 17, 2002, just nine months after Brady's fumble in the snow was wiped off the books by an obscure, yet accurately applied rule. If a photo speaks a thousand words, this one falls short by 996. But those four words represent the mantra of Raider Nation that has persisted to this day.

I made it back to the Coliseum one more time, many years later, and the place was already falling into terrible disrepair. And the sight of middle-aged men with protruding bellies, dressed in full Goth regalia with plastic spikes protruding from their leather, walking into the entrances with full cases of beer slung over their shoulders, was surely a shock. The Wild West days of the old Foxboro Stadium were kid's play compared to just an average Sunday in Oakland.

Somehow, I don't believe the current crop of Raiders fans treat Allegiant Stadium the same way.

SAN DIEGO CHARGERS

Qualcomm Stadium

Again, this team no longer exists. It has moved back to Los Angeles (where it was founded in 1960 and then moved away the next year), and the stadium has since been demolished and replaced with a smaller venue that serves as home for a college team.

I made a few trips to San Diego over the years, but I will speak specifically about one memorable trip -- the AFC Divisional Game on Jan. 14, 2007.

Qualcomm: Gone but not forgotten.

I was so happy to be going to San Diego in January. San Diego is known for having as close to perfect weather as is possible in the Lower 48; I learned that back in the 1980s, when I vacationed in the city twice and learned the joys that a trip to Black's Beach (and a well-scrubbed hot tub) could bring.

But maybe God decided to make me pay for my youthful excesses. I landed at San Diego International in the late hours of a Thursday night (so planned so I could get two full days of beach time), only to find the thermometer in my rental car reading 22 degrees Fahrenheit -- and it wasn't fooling.

The city and environs had been in the grip of an ungodly cold snap for a few days before my arrival -- severe enough that then-Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger was petitioning the Federal government for disaster funds because all of the oranges were freezing on the trees. And it didn't get any better. Temperatures hovered in the 30s on Friday and Saturday, limiting my beach trips to quick stops for photo opportunities. 

The mercury made it to the low 50s on the day of the game, but you must remember that I did not pack for winter weather. I had polo shirts and bathing suits, not North Face winter gear. And when I arrived at Qualcomm Stadium, I was in for another shock -- there were no windows in the press box. And why should there be? It was San Diego, built in a desert, where the temperature never drops below 70. 

The whole game, chilly breezes whipped through the open-air press box. I had purchased a windbreaker at the team's pro shop, but I still had to sit on my hands for most of the game so they would be warm enough for me to type. 

The Patriots won that game, Troy Brown making a huge play to save the day, and the unbeaten season was preserved for two more weeks -- until Super Bowl 42, of course. But it was probably the worst job of typing I have ever done in my life because my two typing fingers (and the others around them) were frozen to the bone.

Junior Seau: Still missed.

There was one more trip later on that contained a particularly poignant moment. Junior Seau, who played for the Patriots at the end of his career, had retired to his native San Diego and seemed content to run his popular restaurant inside a huge shopping mall. On the day the Patriots arrived for an early-season game, team owner Robert Kraft and a large media contingent arrived at the restaurant, Kraft presenting a big check to help Seau's fundraising efforts to benefit Southern Californians who were displaced by a relentless series of wildfires.

It was a touching moment, Kraft presenting the check and speaking lovingly of Seau's contributions as a Patriot as both stood on a balcony overlooking the spacious interior of the dining room. Seau was genuinely touched by the gesture and implored the Chargers' fans in the restaurant to look kindly upon foes that had opened their hearts to them.

Not long after that, Seau was gone. He took his own life, unable to cope with the effects that years of brutal physical contact had upon his brain tissue.

COMING SOON: A look at my visits to NFC venues, plus a bonus one.

(Blogger's Note: Almost all of the photos used in this post were taken by me. The exceptions are the top shot of Allegiant Stadium (unknown), the aerial shot of Riverfront Stadium (Cincinnati Inquirer), the aerial shot of Cleveland Municipal Stadium (unknown), the wide shot of Everbank Field (Florida Times-Union), old Mile High Stadium (Denver Post), Arrowhead Stadium (unknown) and Junior Seau (The Sun Chronicle).

The last time this happened ...

Bill Belichick and Pete Carroll both got the ax as head coaches this year.

I promise, at some point I will offer some reflections on the recent departure of Patriots' head coach Bill Belichick, the hiring of Jerod Mayo to replace him, and the ongoing problems Belichick has had in trying to find another job. I've just been too busy.

But in perusing some old stories earlier today, I came upon this column I wrote the last time the Patriots had such a tectonic shift in the coaching office. I had to chuckle ... not at the circumstances of Pete Carroll's final days as the Patriots' head coach, but in that I was so willing to go out on a limb in print with my well-researched and accurate observations. That was my nature, however. I suspect that if I was still on the Patriots' beat over the last few months, I would have been every bit as pointed in my commentary about the end of the Belichick Era.

Here, in its entirety, is a column that ran on Dec. 29, 1999. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did in re-reading it after 24 years and change.

--0--

Carroll twists in the wind in Foxboro

Contrary to popular belief, I do have a heart. Also contrary to popular belief, I am not enjoying the spectacle going on at Foxboro Stadium these days.

It is no fun to see a man in the last days of his employment, trying to explain himself or rationalize what happened to cause this impending doom.

No, I am not dancing on Pete Carroll's grave. Far from it, in fact.

This is excruciating -- far more so than in the cases of the other seven coaches of the New England Patriots whom I've seen come and go.

There have been some highly dramatic moments among those farewells.

Chuck Fairbanks never said goodbye to anyone, bolting for the University of Colorado amid a firestorm of controversy that culminated in a disappointing playoff loss.

Ron Erhardt learned in just time for the Christmas holiday that he was being let go because, as team owner Billy Sullivan said at the press conference of his firing, "he was just too nice a guy.''

Ron Meyer offered his mea culpas not in the surroundings of the Stadium Club, but in the middle of the football field on the grounds of the Foxborough State Hospital, a former mental institution -- only fitting, many believed.

Raymond Berry, after almost six seasons as the lonesome cowboy of Foxboro, picked an urban setting -- a Boston hotel ballroom -- to offer his side of his release.

Rod Rust went as he arrived -- quietly and dutifully, despite the chaos that reigned supreme around him during his one-year tenure at the helm.

Dick MacPherson had been robbed of his characteristic feistiness by a case of diverticulitis during his second year as head coach, but he regained quite a bit of it in the parking lot of the stadium where he and I chatted for nearly a half-hour after his farewell press conference. The object of most of Mac's scorn, former team VP Sam Jankovich, would be gone a couple of days later.

Bill Parcells, of course, joined team owner Robert Kraft in living a lie during the week before Super Bowl XXXI. Their joint press conference in New Orleans, intended to deny the rift that had already cemented their parting of the ways, was one of the most reprehensible and embarrassing examples of disinformation I've seen in three decades of professional journalism.

But of course, Parcells' official departure on the Friday after the Super Bowl gave us the immortal line, "If you want someone to cook the dinner, you've got to let him shop for the groceries.''

In some instances, there was little doubt the coaches in question would be let go. In others, it came suddenly and shockingly.

Carroll's enthusiasm waned at the end.

Carroll's situation is different, however.

He clearly knows he is going to be fired. He speaks to reporters in the past tense, thanks radio personalities and their crews for working with him over the past three years, and holds super-secret meetings with his players to let them know he's toast.

Reportedly, he has contacted a high-powered agent to start putting out feelers for other jobs. If you don't believe that, remember, you didn't believe during Super Bowl Week three years ago that an internet-based news service could pinpoint Carroll as the next coach of the Patriots before the major media outlets did.

In the meantime, however, Kraft has said nothing publicly.

That's nothing new for the reclusive owner of the Patriots, who has gone full circle in the media spotlight. Once a fellow who never met a television camera he didn't like, Kraft now avoids publicity like the plague -- whether about the stadium he plans to build in Foxboro, or about the football team he has allowed to go to hell in a handbasket during his all-consuming pursuit of the former.

Indeed, aside from Carroll's broadly dropped hints, there has been no definitive statement from ownership about the coach's future. Nor has there been any statement about the future of vice president Bobby Grier, who must share mightily in the culpability for the team's on-field failings.

In much happier times.

Watching Carroll take the fall for a team-wide failure is painful even to those of us who called for his head long before.

It was clear to me from the beginning that Carroll was not the right man to take over for Parcells. He was too friendly, too rah-rah, too disorganized, and too trusting of his players to be able to crack the whip on them when they needed it.

And make no mistake, they needed it.

This team overachieved to get to a Super Bowl, and that put the idea into some of the players' heads that they were mature enough and self-motivated enough to trade in a taskmaster of a coach for a lighter disciplinary touch.

How wrong they were.

As we've seen on countless occasions over the past three years, a goodly number of Patriots aren't disciplined enough either on or off the field to maintain a high level of achievement. The players who wanted to ``take ownership'' of their futures, and abused the good nature of Pete Carroll in their quest for an easy ride, let him down in the worst way.

Carroll was also let down by his bosses. Grier, presented with a bonanza of draft choices from the New York Jets in return for Parcells and, later, free-agent defection Curtis Martin, got nothing in return.

About the only real contributors from that plethora of picks were Robert Edwards, whose career was tragically cut short by a freak knee injury, and linebacker Andy Katzenmoyer, for whom the jury is still out. The rest are either producing little or out of the NFL altogether.

Grier's failure extends also to the free-agency or salary-cap losses of players such as Martin, Sam Gash, Dave Wohlabaugh, Willie Clay and Todd Collins -- oh, yes, and Pro Bowl punter Tom Tupa. He and financial guru Andy Wasynczuk also threw big money at the wrong people, including members of an offensive like that will allow Drew Bledsoe to be sacked as many times or more than Hugh Millen was, back in the bad old days.

No, what's wrong with the Patriots isn't entirely Carroll's fault. He will have to answer for the failure, though, because it's doubtful Kraft has the gumption or the football acumen to clean house totally and effectively, as he should.

But the owner has no trouble enjoying a vacation in Puerto Rico while his football coach swings in the wind, forced to endure a public humiliation because several parts of the organization failed him.

I feel badly for Pete Carroll. Not too badly, mind you, because he was well-compensated for his troubles -- but no one, regardless of how badly he has performed in his job, deserves a two-week public flogging such as the one Carroll has endured.

A wonderful Christmas present from the Kraft family, wouldn't you say?

MARK FARINELLA is Weekend Sports Editor of The Sun Chronicle. Respond by e-mail at mfarinel@thesunchronicle.com

(Editor's note: That email address is no longer valid, of course.)

Ponderous thoughts I was pondering ...

Here is a portrait of the artist as an old man. Seventy down, more hopefully to come.

Ponderous thoughts I was pondering on the cusp of a new year, my 70th on this planet ...

** Yes, 70 is a big number. It's a scary one, too. Maybe because I don't entirely look my age when I look in the mirror (and many people confirm that), I can't equate that number to my memories of my maternal grandfather, who looked like he was 100 years old when he was in his 50s. That was probably the result of his service in the U.S. Army in World War I and the fact that he had been among the troops to be poison-gassed by the Germans.

Baby Me in 1954.

When I'm around the towns and I see people that I think to be "old," I have to understand that they are most likely to be younger than I am. It's very weird.

Perhaps my reluctance to "act my age," as it were, is because I still work part-time at jobs that keep me around young athletes. It's not as creepy as it sounds; I keep the proper distance and interact appropriately with them. Back in April, when I was hosting a TV show for Foxboro Cable Access interviewing four members of the state-championship basketball team, I just told the kids that if they felt in any way intimidated by the lights and the microphones, to just imagine that they're talking to their kindly old grandfather.

That got a laugh and broke the tension, but I'm sure the girls would have gotten over any shyness on their own. They're smart and strong.

But how can you not be affected in a positive way by youthful enthusiasm all around you? On Wednesday night, before the Mansfield girls' game against Braintree, a country song played over the loudspeakers. Immediately, several of the Hornets broke into dance in the stands, parodying a Western shindig. I had to chuckle. Just good clean fun.

How can you not be thrilled by this?

Maybe my surroundings play a role in my chronological confusion. I work in gymnasiums that were present and in use when I was in high school more than a half-century ago. I travel roads that I first remember from being seated next to my father as he drove them in our '56 Chevy -- and no, we didn't have car seats pointing in the wrong direction. Or seat belts, for that matter. I somehow survived. 

And yes, I live in my childhood home. I returned to it after a 44-year absence and made it my own, keeping it in the family name just a little longer. But I've changed enough things so it doesn't feel weird. It still feels like home, but at least it's now my home -- but with some subtle and important reminders of the wonderful parents that made it all happen for me.

I've been a lucky guy. I've never had many needs in my lifetime. My parents taught me the value of money and the hard work it took to get it (and a career as a journalist reminded me often about how hard it was to get it). 

At Lambeau Field in 2006.

I've lived elsewhere, in other towns and in other states, and traveled all over North America over the years, but home was still always where the heart was. And I still feel that way today, although thanks to my residences in other neighboring towns over the years, I've come to accept all of them as part of what tugs upon my heartstrings.

I'm still covering exciting events, trying new things and waking up every morning (or afternoon ... hey, I'm retired!) with a smile on my face and ready for what's next. I can laugh about both what's right with the world and what's wrong with it, all the while still trying to make things better, and not worse, for me and my friends.

That's what turning 70 means to me. Ask me again when I hit 80.

** I was today years old when I learned that to get paper checks out of the checkbook without making a mess of the perforated area, you first pull up to start the separation and then pull outward and away from the binding. 

Yeah, I still write paper checks. It's an old-man thing to do, I guess, but it also tells me when I can spend money and when I can't. 

** Why is it that I was able to go online and find accurate rosters for the teams played by the Foxboro High School girls' basketball team in that recent tournament in Florida, while here in Massachusetts, similar information is harder to find than the nuclear launch codes? Coaches, please put rosters on the MIAA-approved Arbiter Sports website. 

** I broke down and watched “Barbie” the other day. Didn’t think it was possible for me to not like a movie with Margot Robbie in it, but it succeeded at that. When does “Oppenheimer” hit the streaming services?

Local Santa Lisa Downs.

** The local paper recently did a nice series on "Local Santas," one of whom was Foxboro High girls' hoop coach Lisa Downs for her role as the long-time director of the Foxboro Discretionary Fund. If you've heard my podcast, "The Owner's Box" -- it's back to full strength and streaming on all of the most popular podcasting platforms, and links are available on this site -- you know that Lisa and I have talked in detail about why she took over the service upon the tragic death of her parents in an automobile accident many years ago. Her mom was the director of the Foxboro Discretionary Fund at the time of her passing.

The fund is similar to other programs in the area that help out needy families during the holidays, although Foxboro's is a year-round service. But of course, it's during the holidays when things really get cranked up -- and if Lisa's not already busy enough with her basketball duties or her daily job at the Sage School, she and other volunteers set enthusiastically about the task of trying to bring some holiday cheer to the less fortunate of Foxboro. I can't think of a better tribute to her mother's memory than the good work Lisa has done on behalf of the fund all these years.

The Sun Chronicle story mentioned that Lisa is considering stepping back from the Discretionary Fund work a little. She's definitely earned a break for all she's done and continues to do -- especially for the young people in Foxboro. Clearly, it's been a job well done.

** I'm not one for New Year's resolutions, but I do have a few things I'd like to be able to do over the next 12 months, and here are a few.

👉I'd like to be a little less nasty in my Twitter (or X) responses to the brainless Trumpers that believe that our former President was sent by God to lead our nation in the proper (i.e., white supremacist) direction. More like he was sent by Satan to completely fuck up our country and deliver it to hell on a golden platter.

Well, I guess I already broke that one. C'est la vie. By the way, I guess you know that means that I won't be voting for that fat, smelly asshole in the next election. 💩

👉I'd also like to resolve that my next car-buying experience is going to be my last. I just don't enjoy the search, nor the 60-mile drives to dealerships that advertise the perfect car for me -- only to have a salesman tell me, "Oh, that one went yesterday," when I get there. 

👉I want to let all of my friends know how much I love them and cherish their places in my lives. So many have had difficult times of late, either personally or befalling their closest loved ones. Even if it doesn't seem so at times, I'm still there for them. Always.

My inspiration for travel, "Route 66"

👉I still want to travel. Maybe to see some friends in other parts of the country that I might never see again, given the passage of time. I'd like to do it by car if I can, but I don't know if I have the driving stamina I once had. Plus, I'm not going to sleep in the front seat, and nor will I be willing to not change my clothes for three days in a row, nor stay at local fleabag motels. Could be expensive. And I have to admit, with so much road rage out there -- not to mention how Massachusetts license plates might be accepted in the Red States these days amid all this talk by blowhard mom's-basement militia groups about armed intervention in the 2024 election to get Smelly Don back in office -- I'm not sure it would be safe for me to drive through the back roads of Georgia or Alabama.

Time to get a wheel fixed?

👉Failing that, maybe I should break down and get at least one knee replaced. Younger friends that have had knees done tell me I shouldn't hesitate. I just wonder about how my replacement teeth and knees will someday be dug up by archeologists that will marvel at how well they survived my natural and mortal remains.

👉I'm going to stop spending so much money on online newspaper paywalls that don't deliver the product I need. The former GateHouse newspapers, now part of the Gannett chain, are at the forefront of this. Because their newspapers' print editions now have so little new content and such ridiculously early deadlines that it makes it impossible for them to cover high school sports at night, I'm not finding the results or information I need in the online versions.

But they are also running one hell of a scam. I tried today to cancel three subscriptions (over $30 a month) on their subscription websites, only to be told each time that "this service is not available at this time." Angry phone calls will be made on Jan. 2.

Yes, I want to support the survival of local newspapers. But how do you support something in good conscience if they don't deliver the goods? By the way, I'm not including The Sun Chronicle in that blanket condemnation. My former newspaper is still trying, against all odds, to get the job done. 

👉If there's any way at all this can happen, I want to watch the fourth and final season of "Babylon Berlin" on Netflix. The German TV series is an amazing look at the ending days of the Weimar Republic of Germany in the 1920s and 1930s, before the Nazis gained a controlling foothold and changed the course of history. It's seen through the eyes of a police detective with a moral compass that's occasionally skewed by his own troubles, and his occasional partner/girlfriend, a former "escort" in the wild entertainment district of Berlin that somehow manages to fulfill a dream of becoming a detective herself, something unheard of at the time. The first three seasons have already been shown on Netflix and the fourth has completed its run on European TV networks, but for some reason, Netflix is waffling about whether it will finally arrive on these shores. 

👉And finally, I resolve to be available to write another such column on December 31, 2024. Cheers to you all in the meantime.

Foxboro claims third place in Fla. tournament

The Foxboro Warriors earned third place at the KSA Events Holiday Classic. 

KISSIMMEE, Fla. -- The Foxboro High girls' basketball team will return to Massachusetts with the third-place trophy from the first out-of-state tournament in the program's storied history.

The Warriors overcame a late surge Friday by the Redhounds of Corbin (Ky.) High School, winning 60-57 in the last minute of play on a clutch three-point basket by senior guard Erin Foley and two clinching free throws by junior guard Kailey Sullivan. 

Erin Foley: Clutch three.

The tournament was conducted by KSA Sports Events and was played at the Gaylord Palms Resort and Convention Center just outside Orlando.

Corbin, playing without 2,000-point career scorer Kallie Housley for undisclosed reasons, battled back from an early six-point deficit to tie the game at 65-65 with 56 seconds remaining. The Redhounds then took a brief lead, but Foley's three put the Warriors up by a point, and then Sullivan was sent to the foul line in the waning seconds and drained both shots.

Foxboro senior Cam Collins led all scorers with 27 points, and Sullivan was close behind with 24. Both scored their 900th career points, continuing their quest to become the first Warriors since 1988 to be 1,000-point scorers on the same team. Collins now has 915 career points and Sullivan 911.

The last Warriors to accomplish that feat were Sarah Behn and Holly Grinnell. Grinnell reached the milestone in her next-to-last game at Foxboro High, and both had more than 1,000 points entering their MIAA state semifinal against Wakefield at the original Boston Garden. Behn played at Foxboro for one more season and became the state's leading all-time scorer.

Foley also reached double figures in Friday's game, finishing with a season-high 10 points. Senior Izzy Chamberlin and junior Ava Hill combined for 11 rebounds.

The Warriors raced to a 22-16 lead in the opening quarter as Sullivan and Collins combined for 17 of the points. But Corbin responded with a 23-21 second quarter and began a methodical effort to chip away at the Foxboro lead. The Redhounds' 16-13 third quarter, led by six points from junior guard Kylie Clem, reduced the deficit to one point (56-55) entering the last eight minutes.

Clem and senior guard Bailey Stewart both finished with 18 points for the Redhounds (9-5). Senior guard Darcie Anderson added 14.

In the Orange Bracket championship game Friday, Glen Rose (Texas) defeated Cathedral Prep of Erie, Pa., the team that eliminated Foxboro from title consideration on Thursday, by a 59-30 score.

The Warriors, now 5-1 overall, return to Hockomock League play on Jan. 5 at home against winless Sharon.

Box score:

FOXBORO (70)

Cam Collins 10 4-4 27, Izzy Chamberlin 0 0-2 0, Alaysia Drummonds 3 0-0 7, Kailey Sullivan 9 2-2 24, Brynn Allen 0 0-0 0, Erin Foley 4 1-2 10, Adrianna Porazzo 1 0-0 2, Reese Hassman 0 0-0 0, Kylie Sampson 0 0-0 0, Ava Hill 0 0-0 0, totals 27 7-10 70.

CORBIN (67)

Darcie Anderson 5 4-4 14, Kylie Clem 8 1-2 18, Raegan Walker 2 1-2 5, Bailey Stewart 8 1-1 18, Addy Wilson 3 0-0 7, Izzy Walker 1 0-0 2, Lydia King 1 0-0 3, totals 28 7-9 67.

Foxboro            22   21   13   14 -- 70

Corbin              16   23   16   12 -- 67

3-point goals -- Foxboro 9 (Collins 3, Drummonds 1, Sullivan 4, Foley 1), Corbin 4 (Clem 1, B. Stewart 1, Wilson 1, King 1).

Foxboro's win streak snapped in loss to Pa. team.

KISSIMMEE, Fla. -- The Foxboro High School girls' basketball team did not go down without a fight Thursday in the semifinal round of the KSA Holiday Classic.

Cam Collins: Career-high 33 points.

The Warriors' 24-game winning streak -- dating back to their last loss exactly 364 days ago -- was snapped by Cathedral Prep of Erie, Pa., 60-47, despite a career-high 33-point effort by senior guard Cam Collins.

Collins scored 15 of her points in the fourth quarter as the Warriors (4-1) tried desperately to rally from a 15-point deficit entering the final eight minutes of play.

"I am extremely proud of the game the team played," Foxboro coach Lisa Downs said. "To face up against a team of that caliber will be something that we can use and learn from going forward."

Collins, who will attend Rider University next season, was the only Foxboro player scoring in double figures against a top-tier Pennsylvania squad that has three NCAA Division 1 recruits in its starting lineup, two committed to St. Bonaventure and one to Georgetown. 

The Ramblers (6-1) were led by junior forward Addie Biel's 24 points and 17 from senior guard Jayden McBride. Foxboro was held without a three-point basket in the game.

McBride banged home four three-pointers in the opening quarter as Cathedral Prep raced to a 22-10 lead over the Warriors. Collins tried to counter with three baskets of her own, but good perimeter defense by the Ramblers shut down the outside scoring threat of Foxboro junior Kailey Sullivan, who had scored 30 points in the tournament opener against Blacksburg, S.C., on Wednesday. Sullivan finished with six points, but also had a team-high five assists.

The Ramblers increased the lead to 34-19 at the half, outscoring Foxboro 12-9 in the period. 

Collins had 11 points at intermission, but only she and Sullivan were able to find the net in the second half. Collins had 22 in the second half and Sullivan four. Both, however, are making a beeline to become Foxboro's next 1,000-point scorers; Collins took the lead in the individual race with 888 career points after Thursday's game, while Sullivan has 887.

Downs offered high praise to senior forward Izzy Chamberlin, who had to guard a 6-foot-2 center throughout the game. 

"(She) had a substantial size advantage, and Izzy made her work for every point and rebound she had," Downs said.

The Warriors' last defeat prior to Thursday came on Dec. 29, 2022, a non-league 61-52 loss to Wachusett Regional High School.

Foxboro will next play in the third-place game Friday morning (8:30 a.m. start) against 9-4 Corbin (Ky.) High School, a 67-48 loser to Glen Rose (Texas) High in Thursday's other Orange Bracket semifinal. Glen Rose, now 19-2, will take on Cathedral Prep for the bracket title Friday morning.

Box score:

FOXBORO (47)

Cam Collins 11 11-16 33, Izzy Chamberlin 2 0-0 4, Alaysia Drummonds 1 0-0 2, Kailey Sullivan 2 2-2 6, Brynn Allen 0 0-0 0, Erin Foley 0 0-0 0, Adrianna Porazzo 0 2-2 2, Kylie Sampson 0 0-0 0, Ava Hill 0 0-2 0, totals 16 15-22 47.

CATHEDRAL PREP (60)

Lena Walz 1 0-0 3, McKenna Valone 2 0-0 6, Ava Lucarotti 2 3-4 8, Cecelia Morgan 0 0-0 0, Jayden McBride 6 1-2 17, Natalie Spano 1 0-0 2, Addie Biel 8 7-10 24, totals 20 11-16 60.

Foxboro                10     9   11   17 -- 47

Cathedral Prep    22   12   11   15 -- 60

3-point goals: Foxboro -- none. CP -- McBride 4, Valone 2, Walz 1, Lucarotti 1, Biel 1. 

Warriors open with big win over Blacksburg.

KISSIMMEE, Fla.-- Kailey Sullivan netted 30 points, just one off her career high, to lead the Foxboro High School girls' basketball team to a 74-37 win over Blacksburg, S.C., Wednesday in the opening round of the KSA Holiday Tournament.

Kailey Sullivan: 30 points.

Sullivan, a junior guard, now has 881 career points. She and the Warriors (4-0) will take on 5-1 Cathedral Prep of Erie, Pa., in the semifinal round of play at 5:30 p.m. Thursday. Games are played at the Gaylord Palms Resort and Convention Center just outside Orlando.

Foxboro senior guard Cam Collins added 15 points to bring her career total to 855. Senior guard Shyrique Parker paced Blacksburg (3-6) with 23 points.

Foxboro started fast off Sullivan's red-hot shooting, taking a 23-15 lead at the first stop. She sank six baskets in the opening quarter (including four threes) for 16 points, offsetting Parker's 10-point effort. 

The Warriors spread the scoring around in the second quarter as Sullivan, Collins and Adrianna Porazzo combined for five treys, boosting the Warriors' lead to 41-25 at the half.

Foxboro took full command in the third quarter, limiting the Wildcats to just one basket and three points total. Foley, the senior co-captain, scored all nine of her points in the quarter as Foxboro increased the lead to 33 points entering the final eight minutes. Coach Lisa Downs was able to empty her bench in the final quarter and coast to the win, Foxboro's 24th in a row.

Ava Hill had seven rebounds and Collins and Izzy Chamberlin six apiece for Foxboro. Foley and freshman Alaysia Drummonds both added nine points to the winning effort.

Foxboro's next opponent, Cathedral Prep, subdued Wasilla (Alaska) High School and its 6-foot-5 center, Layla Hays, 50-45, in the other game on the Warriors' side of the tournament's Orange Bracket. In the other Wednesday games, Glen Rose (Texas) defeated Medina (Ohio), 64-37, and Corbin (Ky.) defeated Sequoyah High of Canton, Ga., 65-54.

The championship game will be played at 8:30 a.m. on Friday.

Box score:

FOXBORO (74)

Cam Collins 6 0-0 15, Izzy Chamberlin 0 0-0 0, Alaysia Drummonds 3 2-2 9, Kailey Sullivan 12 0-0 30, Brynn Allen 1 0-0 2, Erin Foley 4 0-0 9, Camilla Burton 0 1-2 1, Adrianna Porazzo 1 0-0 3, Reese Hassman 0 0-0 0, Keagan Maguire 0 0-0 0, Kylie Sampson 1 1-2 3, Ava Hill 1 0-0 2, totals 29 4-6 74.

BLACKSBURG (37)

KK Dawkins 1 0-2 2, Jess Ham 1 0-0 2, Annabella Foster 2 0-0 4, Danica Henderson 0 3-4 3, Saniya Rodgers 0 0-0 0, Paris Mayes 1 0-0 3, Shyrique Parker 6 7-8 23, Payton Vance 0 0-0 0, totals 11 10-14 37.

Foxboro           23   18   22   11-- 74

Blacksburg      15   10      3    9-- 37

3-point goals -- Foxboro 12 (Sullivan 6, Collins 3, Drummonds 1, Foley 1, Porazzo 1), Blacksburg 5 (Parker 4, Mayes 1).

Warriors are on their way!

The Foxboro Warriors await boarding their plane at T.F. Green Airport (Kate Hill photo).

The Foxboro High School girls' basketball team is on the ground -- and most likely on the court when you read this -- at the KSA Events Holiday Basketball Tournament, held at the Gaylord Palms Resort and Convention Center in Kissimmee, Fla., which is just minutes away from Disney World and all the other tourist attractions in the greater Orlando area.

The Warriors' first game today is scheduled for 1 p.m. against a team from Blacksburg (S.C.) High School, a school of about 500 students. Yes, they found a school actually smaller than Foxboro for the opening contest. Foxboro is unbeaten at 3-0 while Blacksburg checks in at 3-5.

The winner of that game will face the winner of a game between 4-1 Cathedral Prep of Erie, Pa., and 2-1 Wasilla High School of Wasilla, Alaska, in the second round on Thursday. That is likely to be a much greater challenge for the Warriors if they get there, because Cathedral Prep has three high-Division 1 recruits in the starting lineup and Wasilla has 6-foot-5 center Layla Hays, who is attracting considerable attention from a lot of top D1 programs in the lower 48.

That could set up a championship game in the Orange Bracket among the survivor of the other portion of the eight-team bracket, which includes Glen Rose (Texas) at 17-2, Medina (Ohio) at 8-2, Corbin (Ky.) at 8-2 and Sequoyah High School of Canton, Ga., at 9-2.

Glen Rose's home "gym".

You may be wondering why so many schools have played so many more games than Foxboro. It's because unlike backward states in the Northeast that still believe that neither boys' nor girls' basketball can start their seasons before the football season ends, many other states in the Union start up on the hardcourt at the beginning of November.

You should check out Glen Rose's website, too. Their home court is not a gym, it's an arena. It looks very similar to the Hart Center at Holy Cross, just awash in red. That's pretty close to the level of basketball being played in half of that bracket. 

And lest the Warriors fall to defeat in a game, they will be placed in a consolation bracket with a three-game guarantee. Overall, not bad -- even if the weather isn't cooperating. It's supposed to be 70 and cloudy today in Kissimmee. Not exactly poolside weather, but I'm sure there will be plenty to do at all of the attractions nearby.

Anyway, best of luck to the Warriors, who go into this tournament with a 23-game winning streak dating to last year. I'll do my best to get some results up on the blog -- with a little help from my friends in the Foxboro basketball community, of course.

The Owner's Box, Ep. 52.

Can the Foxboro Warriors win another state championship? The quest starts next week.

We got ambitious with the 52nd episode of The Owner's Box, and I'm glad we did.

Starting on Saturday of last week, I set out to record interviews with the five high school basketball coaches whose games I will be announcing this year for the local cable TV systems for which I work. Yesterday evening, it was "mission accomplished" for the task -- four coaches interviewed after scrimmages in their home gyms and one by telephone.

Somehow, it all came together in a 66-minute production (maybe 12 minutes longer than my usual goal), but when you consider that these were all original material and not canned, that's not bad.

I spoke to the following coaches: Mansfield High boys' coach Mike Vaughan and girls' coach Heather McPherson, Foxboro girls' coach Lisa Downs, and King Philip girls' coach Jeff Miszkiewicz and boys' coach Dave DeStefano. All of them got their teams into the MIAA tournament last year; Downs won the Division 2 state title and Vaughan was the D2 runner-up, so we have a very good cross-section of winning basketball from this part of the state.

We talked about expectations for this year, which vary. Downs and her Warriors have targets on their backs because the top eight players from that championship team return for another try at a title this year (although in Division 3 following an MIAA realignment). Vaughan lost one of his top returning players to a knee injury, and graduation losses have opened the door for new talent. Graduation losses have also impacted the Mansfield girls and both KP teams, but all three have reasons for optimism with talented athletes returning hopeful of stepping up their games.

It's worth the slightly-supersized listening time -- and with the season getting underway tonight and Tuesday, there's no better time for it. Alex Salachi (birthday boy on Dec. 9, as he will get to 70 before I do!) and I will kick off our season of telecasts with a doubleheader between the Mansfield boys and girls and Attleboro on Tuesday, a 5:30 start, live on Mansfield Cable Access. I'll be joining Kate Hill for the call of the Mansfield girls at Foxboro on Friday for Foxboro Cable Access, and our series of KP boys' and girls' games on North TV's Community Channel will start early in January.

Hoop is life, and you'll get plenty of it from me over the next three-plus months -- starting with this very informative podcast. Enjoy.