Within The Arena #1: Gillette Stadium

Memorial Day Weekend 2025
NCAA Lacrosse Championship Weekend

Welcome to Within the Arena: a new series dedicated to going behind the scenes and under the stands at arenas big and small, new and old throughout New England and the Northeast. 

My cousin Esther died last week. She was 94. More of a second grandmother than a cousin, Esther was tough as nails even if her anxieties rarely let her see it in herself. She buried two husbands, a son, and a grandson and never lost her zeal or energy to get up and go.

And now she’s gone. She died almost exactly 11 months after my grandmother passed at age 90. Many times when I went to see one the other was there too. Always dynamic, always a treat to spend time with.

Esther’s service was at the same chapel as my grandmother’s. They’re buried in plots right next to each other. Tears were shed at the passing of both of these amazing women on the day and in the moment.

But after I had tears for another thing: the death of Peabody, Massachusetts. My grandmother lived there. Esther lived there. My mom was raised there. I was raised there until I was 8 years old. It was always a place to go. 

“The pool” meant the inground pool at my grandmother’s condo complex. The clubhouse by the pool was where birthday parties were held, my daughter’s baby shower was had, all right there at the complex. Little restaurants and spots, roads that were driven hundreds or thousands of times, the always pristine white carpet at my grandmother’s condo and the too-big hutch full of all sorts of glassware and British knick knacks from her trips back to her childhood home of London, all permanently gone to the memory files to get morphed by the haze of time in the back of the mind.

We’re often told how to, in some way, handle the death of a person close to us. And while the advice may be good or bad, everyone offers it and has received it. No one tells you how to handle the death of places, those small little anchoring points in your life that exist for decades and go away overnight.

The new future? It’s never ok. It’s far from fucking ok. It’s different, and you have to come to terms with the difference, find new anchoring points, and continue on. That’s living. 

Those little new futures come up everywhere. Around the Horn ended its 23-year run on ESPN last week. That show helped me solidify, in my mind, that being a sports reporter was what I wanted to do. I was gonna make it onto that show. I never was on the panel, but I’ve been in sports for 18 years and writing from here, my 20th NCAA tournament. 

But that show, that thing that spoke to middle school me in a deeply personal way is now gone. You can never go home again, and we all live in a lot of homes big and small. Around the Horn was a place for me. 5 pm every day after school, after Champions league matches, it was an inspiring constant for young me. And now that connection point to my younger days is gone. 

Sure, that’s a natural way of things, but it hits in the feelings all the same. 

And that brings me here, to Gillette Stadium. A place I came of age in. I was a season ticket holder for the New England Revolution for six years. I was here in 2014 when the Revs knocked off the Red Bulls to advance to the MLS Cup and end Thierry Henry’s career. I’ve been here for countless state championship football games anchored by players like Matt Grimard and Cole Kissick and Zac Elkinson.

But it’s different now. The lighthouse (we’ll get to it) wasn’t here back in the day. The ways in and out of the stadium are different. Gone are the days of being able to navigate here blindfolded. It’s not mine anymore. Maybe it’ll be my daughter’s one day, but for now I’m here. I’m here to see all the nooks and crannies of the place and put to paper what it is this weekend. Come along for the ride. 

…

One of my favorite trivia questions is what was the initial name of Gillette Stadium? It feels like a trick question because it’s been Gillette forever.

And it has been. Except for four months.

The stadium opened as CMGI Field, named after some dot com company that imploded a few months after the stadium opened in May, 2002. The Revolution went 4-6 in 10 matches at CMGI before the company collapsed and the name changed in August. 

Who scored the first goal at CMGI Field? Taylor Twellman.

Who scored the first Revolution goal at Gillette Stadium? Taylor Twellman.

The Patriots never played a game at CMGI Field.

But before we get into the stadium there is a whole constellation of places to see outside of the park. And we’ll start with that damn lighthouse.

…

This is not a lighthouse. This is a concrete column dressed up as a lighthouse for Halloween. And that’s fine. It gets ridiculous when all of the marketing and branding call it a “lighthouse” complete with the quotation marks.

It’s the building equivalent of when you go through a phase as a kid and insist on being called something like Lord Darkwing, Emperor of the Night. You’re an observation deck. It’s ok to just be that.

It costs $5 to go up, digital ticket only, no cash. And it’s a simple setup. Here’s the lobby.

Then there is a 39.2 second elevator up the 218 feet to the top complete with an audio recording describing the lighthouse, maybe the Patriots, idk, I’m just here for the views.

Luckily, once the doors open, the view is really one of a kind.

Once you look around you see Patriot Place and the extended cinematic universe of parking lots.

Oh, and what’s that in the distance? Is that Boston?

It is insulting that the NCAA markets this weekend as being in Boston when it’s at Gillette Stadium. Foxboro is a southern suburb of Boston of about 18,000 people. It’s fine that it’s in a suburb, but it doesn’t even border Boston.

The Patriots haven’t played in Boston proper since playing at Harvard Stadium in 1970.

What town does Foxboro border to the north? Walpole.

Walpole’s northern border? Norwood.

Norwood’s northern border? Dedham.

And then finally you’re in Boston proper.

Let’s compare the last three venues to host championship weekend. M&T Bank Stadium in Baltimore is 1.6 miles from Baltimore city hall. Lincoln Financial Field is 6.4 miles from Philadelphia city hall. Gillette is 27.6 miles from Boston City Hall.

For people coming from out of town just say where it is and leave no confusion out in the ether. Boy, this is gonna be weird when the stadium hosts men’s World Cup matches next summer. Maybe I skip that quarterfinal game.

So the lighthouse proudly declaring the distance from Boston is high comedy.

The tallest actual lighthouse in the country is the 210-foot Cape Hatteras Lighthouse in Buxton, North Carolina. The tallest on the planet is the 271-foot Île Vierge Lighthouse in Finistere in the far west of France.

…

Next to the “lighthouse” is the pro shop. In the back of the pro shop is the Patriots Hall of Fame. The pro shop is about 80% merchandise for the New England Patriots and the remaining 20% is for the New England Revolution.

I didn’t realize how low my phone battery was and asked the woman at the ticket window for the hall if I could use her charger. She graciously agreed. So thanks so much Maria. You were a delight.

While I waited I decided to quest the entire pro shop to answer one question: what is the dumbest single item in the whole store? It was a tie.

The first was a set of fully branded and licensed Patriots steak knives for $27.99.

However, that really was more about the silliness of how team branding can leak into everything.

The second item was for the most specific person on earth: someone who loves the Patriots, loves the history of the Patriots, has $19.99 to spend, and HATES symmetry.

You could also buy a football signed by Drake Maye for just under $700.

…

In the back of the Revs section there is an unassuming door. So unassuming that I walked by it once despite specifically looking for it.

The door takes you to the ticketing window for the Patriots Hall of Fame (brought to you by RTX). It is, of course, lined with turf.

The elevator takes you up to the third floor for the start of the hall, which you then walk down. On the way up you hear a recorded message from team hall of famer Ty Law welcoming you to the Patriots Hall of Fame (brought to you by Raytheon).

Once you’re at the top you walk through an ersatz blowup helmet and come out in the main hall.

I’m not a Patriots fan. I’m not much of an NFL fan. I do really like this. The attention to detail is excellent, and no stone in the team’s history is left unturned. There’s stuff dating all the way back to when the team was playing at 10,000-seat Nickerson Field at BU back in 1960. It’s so much more than the Super Bowl run.

The real hidden gem, to show deep the detail goes, is the display of two St Louis Stallions hats.

Not familiar with the Stallions?

Back in the early 90s, James Orthwein bought the team explicitly to move it to his hometown. Full team branding and merchandise was produced to help sell the move. All he had to do was come to an agreement with the owner of Foxboro Stadium to break the lease.

The stadium owner was Robert Kraft. After an impasse Orthwein basically said “fine, you take the damn team.” And here we are.

That said, I do love the logo and colorway.

There’s a theater that shows a film of the team’s history on loop.

And, of course, there’s a display just for Tom Brady.

As you descend down, there are more esoteric and interactive displays. My favorite was one on the history of football in New England complete with what may be the oldest known football to exist.

The high school state championships have been held at Gillette nearly every year since 2007. There was a display of jerseys for all the state champs this year, including the vocational schools, which play their super bowls else where.

There’s the wall of hall of famer plaques….

…directly across from this.

It’s Pat Patriot frying a tuna after Bill Parcells left to coach the Jets.

The interactive stuff is neat, especially for the kids. There’s a fake huddle and bench where you can play coach and call up to the coordinators. The phones play prerecorded messages.

You can test your spiking skills versus Rob Gronkowski.

And then there’s the awards and accolades. One display just for AFC championship trophies.

An exhibit dedicated just to 28-3.

And the main event, the Lombardis and super bowl rings. There used to be an example ring you put your fingers through. Fingers plural. But that seems to have gone away.

There’s a bunch I didn’t stop and look at it or add in, but if you’re just a fan of football history this is absolutely worth it for $10.

And to exit, you walk through a duck boat, the amphibious car? truck? vehicle? That the Patriots, and all the Boston teams, ride through town for the parades.

…

While the stadium opened in 2002, Patriot Place didn’t follow until 2007. Built in stages, the outdoor mall currently has 1.3 million square feet of retail space. It’s a mix of restaurants and higher-end shops. There’s also a Crumbl cookie for your mediocre baked good needs.

There’s a four-star hotel, large outpatient medical facility, and more. Outdoor pickleball courts are coming soon.

Before the D1 men’s final on Monday I took a stroll through the complex.

Everything is upscale, at least to my tastes. It has the flowy walkability of an outlets mall but isn’t outlets. It’s trying to be a destination, but it’s in Foxboro, which is a destination only in the most “yes, this is a census-designated place” sense.

I’ve had meals here, done a date day with the Mrs at the paint bar, seen some pro wrestling at Six String. It’s neat, and I don’t see reasons to come here like I would the outlets one town over in Wrentham where I can get a better deal on stuff.

I also miss the old courtyard before the new giant lighthouse and videoboard was built. I liked having a ticket window you could walk up to because I’m a ticket stub collector. I liked having the view from above into the stadium instead of just glass and stone.

Oh yeah, that’s not the entirety of the complex. There’s a whole second segment way in the back, a drive away. Featuring the first Bass Pro Shops in New England, the back feels very much like a suburban outdoor mall.

From above, you can really see the scale of it all.

…

Behind the stadium grounds, tucked into the woods, is the New England Revolution training center. I’d covered numerous events here before but this was my first time coming up Route 1 North to the stadium, so as I drove around the back I saw the sign for the training center and detoured.

First you see one of the actual training fields.

Bear left and you’ll come to a lovely looking building just for the team, no sharing it with the Patriots.

Of course, I couldn’t get through the gate to get closer or even inside, but what a neat surprise it was to be able to trundle down the road and take a peak at the team facility. And there’s this adorable New England statue in the parking lot too.

…

Walking into the stadium from the back, you see a massive three-level structure being built.

This will be the new Patriots team facility. After the team was ranked dead last for player facilities/amenities, this building should go a long way to moving the club up the list.

But from there you walk down the stadium a bit to the media entrance at entry point E3. Metal detectors, bag checks, grab your badge, and up the elevator.

In the past, media entry was the same door as staff, which was this loading dock.

I always preferred that because it was a straight shot to the elevator that opened up into the press box. The elevator at E3 took us up at the other corner of the stadium so we had to walk across, right behind the super bowl banners.

And they aren’t banners at all. They’re large steel placards. Probably better to handle the elements.

The elevator also opened right in the club level. No media had badge access to the club level so that struck me as odd. It’s standard club with big TVs, bars, the works. On a cold day this would be a godsend to have access here, but on these nice spring days it’s whatever.

Once I got around to the press box I was reminded how big it is. Two stories with three tiers of seeing on the upper, blue, level.

The view from the corner is good. Sure. I’d rather be midfield, but that’s a preference. It’s a great vantage point for all the action down below.

Down below on the red level are booths for the control room and audio techs along with media dining and seating.

And boy howdy did the media food SLAP.

And that’s not even including the soups and sweets. When the Gillette Stadium kitchen goes full speed I’d put it up against almost anything comparable in New England. I’ll take this over almost any wedding meal I’ll have in my life.

…

Down under the stadium there’s a hum throughout the weekend. The Patriots team meeting room is used for press conferences.

There’s far more seats than there are reporters, but it sure was nice to spread out and sit in the big chairs meant for football players.

Sunday is a hectic day with three games all stacked on each other. The first game was the D1 women’s final. It set a record crowd for women’s lacrosse with 14,423 in attendance to see North Carolina to beat Northwestern and secure a perfect season.

The postgame rush is a beautiful mess. TV gets first priority, and then all the other media rushes in after 20 or so seconds. I was trying to show the chaos of it all. The trophy is immediately handed out to the winning team

Big Ten Network was there covering the Northwestern women and Maryland men. A rough weekend for the league, but I met some of the folks from the network. Lovely people.

Watching TV made from the inside really blows up the magic. It’s numerous people behind the camera doing their jobs so that the images that go out coast to coast look flawless. With that: a story in two photos.

Now this is where we bring the NCAA up. This was my 20th NCAA tournament I’ve covered. I’ve covered numerous sports across all three divisions, including two men’s Elite Eights. Never have I seen as weird and draconian rule as I have with this tournament.

The credentialed media got this email, in some form, three times over the weekend.

“Per our broadcast policy, no video of any kind is allowed to be recorded in the stadium 30 minutes prior to the broadcast beginning, and until the broadcast is off the air. ESPN is staying on the air between games. This means that no video of any kind (game footage, b-roll, stand ups, etc.) is allowed inside Gillette Stadium beginning at 11:30 am on Sunday until ESPN is off the air. On Monday, no video is allowed inside Gillette Stadium beginning at 12:30 pm until ESPN is off the air. Stand ups are permitted outside of the stadium during this time. TV stations wishing to obtain the game broadcast can plug into the ESPN truck.”

I bristled the hardest at “no video of any kind”. This meant that BC student radio had to get to the stadium six hours before their semifinal game on Friday to do all of their pregame activities because once the first semifinal started they weren’t allowed to do anything. Absolute nonsense to not allow TV stations to do a standup in the stadium of any type. No field in the shot? Doesn’t matter. ESPN owns that time.

It reminds me of when I made a documentary a decade ago about college wrestling and ESPN’s subsidiary demanded we pay a fee of $3,000 per minute of footage WE SHOT ON OUR OWN CAMERA. Rules for the sake of rules.

Anyway, here’s some cool goals Cornell scored in the D1 men’s final on Monday.

We’ll come back to this game later.

…

The game of the weekend, by far (ok, the BC-Northwestern women’s semi on Friday was pretty great too) was the Division 2 men’s final on Sunday between Tampa and Adelphi. I was down there pregame and both teams were HYPE.

I’ve always enjoyed how men’s lacrosse has all three divisions crown a champion at the same site. In the past the D1 women had held their final at the same venue as the men, but this was the first time they had had the whole women’s final four on site as well. I’d love see men and women crown all three of their champions at one location on the long weekend.

Despite being the lower divisions there was a good buzz around the stadium Sunday afternoon. So I took a lap.

This game was absolutely tremendous. A nip-and-tuck affair all the way out that went down to the game’s final minute. Tied at 8, Tampa had a crack to win it in the final seconds.

You faintly hear that whistle before he spins around and fires the ball into the net, and then the ref comes sprinting in. That was the Tampa coaching staff calling a timeout the moment he picked up the ball thus nullifying the goal.

The game ended tied and went to overtime. I’m sure you can guess how that went.

Adelphi won 9-8.

…

Underneath the stadium there’s always something going on, especially when the weekend started with a dozen teams coming in across all the divisions.

ESPN had two massive trucks underneath. Those things are bigger than some apartments I’ve been in.

Walking around the production area I was able to grab one of these sheets with the notes for the dozen cameras ESPN was employing during its broadcasts. This was for the D1 men’s final.

Let’s detour about Skycam. First off, that thing is BIG big. Almost 300 pounds of steel and glass zooming above the action.

One thing I didn’t know was that Skycam is an independent company. This isn’t some special camera that an ESPN or FOX or CBS pulls out for big games. It is a company that the network will have to contract and pay to come in, set up, and run.

Utilizing a team of seven people, a mix of spotters and operators, Skycam does its thing to produce television other cameras can’t. You’d think the camera was left up throughout the weekend? Nope. After the women’s final on Saturday afternoon the camera was gone and packaged by within 30 minutes after the game.

…

I really hate how so much of attending major sports has been turned into a premium experience with all the extra bells, whistles, and unnecessities. Nothing encapsulates that more than the Optum Lounge.

Located on field level behind the end zone opposite the “lighthouse” end, the lounge is the most lipstick-on-a-pig version of a 20,000-square-foot high school cafeteria you could possibly find. If it was in a video game it would be the default Create-a-Room.

But you can always watch games that aren’t yours while having paid to be at the game you’re at or drink at tables on the same type of turf the pros play on. 

When the lounge opened in 2015, the retail, per-game rate for a Patriots season ticket package was $680 a contest. And that gets you the privilege of still having to pay for stadium food like $16 for a burger/fries basket, $12 for a Bud Light, or $7 for a 20 ounce of Pepsi. It’s the same food and prices you pay in the 300 level that’s seven stories up. To pay for a ticket here is to willingly be thieved.

But at least you get this wonderful view.

…

Walking around the back of the stadium, one thing was crystal clear:

The back ramps are all storage. Dozens of carts and extra food equipment line the ramps as you walk down to field level.

I think it’s pretty smart. The items are covered, so at least protected from most precipitation. And it’s not like you can keep them out on the main stadium concourse because they’d get destroyed by fans eventually.

An added view of the back ramps was being able to see the practice field the Patriots use for training camp complete with the bleachers people use to watch them train.

…

Monday was all about the D1 men’s final, the lone game of the day. It was a beautiful summery New England afternoon.

Cornell would defeat Maryland 13-10 to win the program’s first title since 1977. Postgame was bedlam.

A note about those champions shirts and towels. Talking with a worker from the NCAA on the field, he told me that those shirts weren’t made until after the semifinal games on Saturday. They weren’t delivered to the stadium until a few hours before opening faceoff. 

I was gobsmacked. I for sure thought that a set for each of the four semifinalists would have been brought in and stored with the three losing sets being donated out of the country. I was right about the losing set going out of the country, but nothing was ordered until late in the day on Saturday, everything was made, packaged, and shipped, all within about 40 hours. Remarkable logistics.

After the horn and that first wave of celebrations there was a formal trophy presentation. And then that was about it. A smattering of staffers waited on the field to dish out the championship gear, everything barking out the shirt size they had.

TV folks and content creators are waiting to yoink players from the scrum for an interview on the field. That was expressly forbidden in the written directives media got throughout the weekend but what were they gonna do, throw them out? The weekend’s over.

Bloggers were able to get selfies with the mascot.

Parents and girlfriends and siblings come to the field. It becomes a whole party with no real direction, but nobody cares because everyone’s so dang happy.

While the celebrations were going I took a walk inside and up the ramp back to the press conference room ahead of Maryland coming in. I also had a secondary mission: document the secret bathroom.

Because down the stairs there is a half bathroom tucked away in there for Patriots players and staff to use during their games. It’s impossible to see from anywhere other than on-field staircase. It was such a surprise the first time I saw it back in 2018 because it feels ridiculous. 

Shooting off the ramp was the mascot locker room and the officials locker room.

Before I went back to the field I saw the door to the Revolution locker room was open, which was Cornell’s locker room on the day.

And then I’m back on the field and it’s a work site. Retaining nets have been taken down. The sideline table and replay area are gone. It’s just rogue confetti and a smattering of Cornell fans still hanging around in the moment.

Multiple Zamboni-like trucks are scraping the field to pick up the confetti or scrub off paint while other workers leaf blow the paper pieces closer to be cleaned up.

Where there had just been a scene around the goal for the net cutting just a few minutes before like this:

Has been replaced by the mundane, the banal.

I stepped onto the field after the game at 3:28.

Just 42 minutes later here was that exact same logo.

Photographers uploading photos as quickly as possible in the shade of the stadium wall. ESPN folks breaking down the cameras on the risers.

Memories for the fans. Legacies for the players. Time and a half on a holiday Monday for staff. Post Malone’s tour comes to town on Saturday. That’ll be a huge load-in. No time like the present to take lacrosse down now. Because 70,000 people will be here for that concert and no one will give a damn about this tournament.

That’s the life of a stadium: one event ends, and the other immediately begins. The moments leave with the people. Only the concrete and steel remain.

…

Thanks for reading the first post for Within the Arena. It’ll be a sporadic series as new venues pop up or I can fit old ones in my schedule of dadding and husbanding and working. But this was fun. I don’t know when or if I’ll ever have a D1 tournament credential again.

When championship weekend comes back in 2028 I hope to come with family and friends and enjoy that side of things. For now I’ll rack up miles when I can. This is fun. Always will be. 

And with that, here’s one for the road…