Globe Top 20 softball poll: Lincoln-Sudbury making a strong pitch
Records based on scores reported to the Globe.
The Globe's Top 20 softball poll
The Globe poll as of April 16, 2025. Teams were selected by the Globe sports staff.
No.
Team
Record
Previous
1.
Taunton
6-0-0
1
2.
King Philip
5-0-0
2
3.
Lincoln-Sudbury
4-1-0
4
4.
Dighton-Rehoboth
2-1-0
3
5.
Silver Lake
3-0-0
5
6.
Joseph Case
3-1-0
7
7.
Central Catholic
3-0-0
6
8.
Bishop Feehan
6-0-0
8
9.
Walpole
2-1-0
9
10.
Bedford
3-1-0
10
11.
Apponequet
6-0-0
11
12.
Bridgewater-Raynham
4-1-0
12
13.
Marblehead
5-0-0
13
14.
Norton
7-0-0
14
15.
Weymouth
2-1-0
16
16.
Newton North
5-1-0
17
17.
Triton
2-1-0
15
18.
Middleborough
4-2-0
20
19.
Marshfield
4-0-0
–
20.
Attleboro
5-2-0
19
Cam Kerry can be reached at
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Boston Globe
a day ago
- Boston Globe
A brain-injured football player returns home, his life changed forever. His family seeks answers from Sharon officials.
In his largely immobile left hand, he grips a stuffed toy teddy bear — a gift from an ambulance crew that transported him as he lay near death after he suffered a catastrophic brain injury during Sharon's Thanksgiving football game last year. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up His parents, meanwhile, attend to him around the clock while they and others wait for the Sharon school district to accept its share of responsibility for Rohan's devastating plight. Advertisement Three months have passed School administrators have yet to directly address questions about deficiencies, detailed in the Globe report in May, that may have contributed to Rohan's trauma. After spending more than $10,000 on an external investigation, according to a document obtained by the Globe through a public records request, they have not shared any of the investigative report with Rohan's family and have refused to release it to the public. Advertisement Some of the district's purported failures are powerful reminders to schools across the country about the life-or-death consequences of preventing, preparing for, and responding to medical emergencies in sports. 'No other parent should have to worry that what happened to Rohan will happen again,' said his mother, Deepika Talukdar. The district said in a statement, 'Sharon Public Schools continues to keep Rohan and his family in our thoughts and prayers through his recovery. The district maintains its support for the Shukla family while recognizing that a situation of this nature warrants maintaining their privacy.' Rohan's parents said they appreciate the district helping with Rohan's recovery, including preparing for him to possibly return to school one day. But they continue to seek information in the investigative report and said they have been willing to sacrifice privacy in the interest of student safety. School officials said in response to the Globe's records request that they are withholding the investigative report in part because they consider legal action 'reasonably foreseeable.' Rohan's parents declined to comment on possible litigation. The stakes may be sizable given the severe impact on Rohan and his family. Rohan had never needed medical care for anything but annual physicals before Thanksgiving. Now he needs help to perform his most basic bodily functions. He exists, even at home, as a long-term patient as much as a son and sibling. Advertisement The district's most glaring flaw, as the Globe reported, was perhaps not employing a full-time trainer during the 2024 football season, relying instead on part-timers only on game days, despite complaints from numerous coaches, including the head football coach, about player safety. Amid the lack of coverage, Rohan was permitted to return to play without submitting a medical clearance form or receiving a mandatory cognitive evaluation after he suffered a football concussion four weeks before the Thanksgiving game. He then was involved in a helmet-to-helmet collision in the last practice before Thanksgiving — a potentially dangerous blow that went undetected by the coaches. Rohan Shukla is wheeled by his father, Abhishek, down a newly installed ramp in the backyard of the family home. John Tlumacki/Globe Staff The problems outlined by the Globe have prompted townspeople as prominent as the chair of the Sharon School Committee to assert the district bears some responsibility for Rohan's crisis. Rohan was a sophomore honors student before his education abruptly ended on Thanksgiving. 'I do not believe that what happened to Rohan Shukla wasn't preventable,' the committee chair, Avi Shemtov, said during a candidate forum in May. 'I don't think the blame lies really anywhere other than solely with the school district — that includes the school committee and the administration — for not having a full-time athletic trainer." The unreleased investigative report could possibly include flaws in Rohan's case beyond those previously identified by the Globe. School officials, for example, responded in June to the records request by stating they did not possess a written medical emergency response plan for the high school — an apparent violation of state law. By statute, every district must 'ensure that every school under its jurisdiction has a written emergency response plan that addresses both medical and behavioral health crises to reduce the incidence of life-threatening medical emergencies and behavioral health crises and to promote efficient and appropriate responses to such emergencies.' Advertisement The district, however, asserted Friday in its statement for this story that it does possess written medical emergency response plans for every school in the system. Shemtov, the school committee chair, said the board will seek clarity on the matter. 'After being provided the contradictory statements issued by district administration to the Globe, the school committee is aware of the discrepancy and will be looking into it,' he said. Notable among the additional factors the Globe cited in Rohan's case was the district's decision to replace Sharon High's full-time athletic director before the 2024 season with an administrator who served as both a vice principal and athletic director — a formidable challenge for a school of Sharon's size, with an enrollment of 1,161 and 50 boys' and girls' sports teams. What's more, Sharon officials pitted their low-rated football team against a lineup of punishing opponents. Fourteen Sharon players missed multiple games because of injuries as the team went winless in 11 contests, losing by an average of nearly 40 points. Rohan and five teammates suffered documented concussions. 'It was noncompetitive and unsafe,' head coach Ben Shuffain told the Globe in April. Rohan's parents believed he entered the Thanksgiving game with extra head protection by wearing a shell cover over his helmet that the school had recommended they buy. But the cover wasn't the most protective available, and when the back of Rohan's head crashed to the ground after he made a dazzling defensive play, the shell provided no padding at the point of contact, Shuffain said. Advertisement School officials said in their statement, 'Student health and safety remain the forefront of the district's academic, extracurricular, and athletic initiatives.' Deepika Talukdar exchanges planted kisses with her son, Rohan Shukla, in his makeshift bedroom in the family's dining room. John Tlumacki/Globe Staff Rohan suffered an acute subdural hematoma, a massive brain bleed that with each passing minute reduced his chances of survival. He needed emergency surgery, but vital time was lost, first, because Sharon — unlike many other schools — did not post an ambulance at the Thanksgiving game. Rohan was clinging to life by the time a town ambulance delivered him to Good Samaritan Hospital in Brockton, a lower-level trauma center ill-suited to treat him. He desperately needed an airlift to Massachusetts General Hospital. But MedFlight helicopters were grounded by stormy weather, and Rohan's brain continued bleeding during the wait for a specially equipped ground ambulance. In all, nearly three hours passed between his head hitting the ground and his arrival in an MGH operating room — too long to prevent critical brain damage. Three hours of neurosurgery by Dr. William Butler and his team saved Rohan's life. He then spent four weeks in a coma at MGH before receiving five months of specialized treatment at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital, progressing enough that he regained much of his memory and personality. Doctors say it will take years of therapy before they can fully gauge the limits of Rohan's recovery. His mobility remains severely diminished, but his mind is sharp; his sense of humor, too. He returned home after his medical team and parents agreed that he might benefit from living with his family and receiving intensive outpatient therapy. He recently greeted a Globe reporter and photographer by composing a message on his whiteboard in French. Advertisement Why French? He remembers studying it in class. 'I am soon to be a French scholar,' he wrote to the amusement of his parents and guests. But the transition home has proved frightening at times. Rohan has twice experienced prolonged seizures, requiring ambulances to rush him to emergency rooms — first to Good Samaritan, the next time to MGH. When a nurse at Good Samaritan recognized him, she told his parents, 'I'm so happy to see him alive.' His mother winced, recalling their harrowing experience months earlier. Fear has haunted his parents since. One or the other constantly stays close to Rohan. One sleeps in his room, waking every three hours to turn him to prevent muscle soreness. He has a bell to ring for help, and they installed a camera to keep an eye on him. They also built an accessible bathroom and erected a wheelchair ramp to their door. Abhishek Shukla (left) and Deepika Talukdar place leg splints on their 16-year-old son, Rohan Shukla. John Tlumacki/Globe Staff His mother, who left her career as a software engineer to care for him, accompanies him four days a week as he travels for therapy in Waltham. His father, Abhishek Shukla, also a software engineer, commutes to Boston and helps when he can. Caring for Rohan demands so much attention that his parents regret the time they have lost with Naman, such as cheering for him as he travels as a pitcher for a club team, the East Coast Eagles. Yet Rohan has helped to nurture Naman. Even as Rohan yearns to reclaim his prior self — he hungers for a day when he can eat his favorite dish, his mother's chicken tacos — he finds ways to lift Naman. When Naman recently returned home dejected after a subpar pitching performance, he refused to speak to his parents about it. Rohan intervened. He snapped his fingers to grab his brother's attention and wrote on his whiteboard, 'Hey Naman don't beat yourself up.' Rohan Shukla returned home in late May, after his medical team and parents agreed that he might benefit from living with his family and receiving intensive outpatient therapy. John Tlumacki/Globe Staff Rohan's parents said after the Globe's visit, 'Rohan's spirit keeps us optimistic and going. Deep inside, we believe he's eventually going to come out of this resilient and strong and will continue to remind people that nothing is impossible.' Playing football again, though? His mother was shaken by his vision. 'I couldn't stop my tears,' she said. She never wanted him to play in the first place, but he wore her down. He wanted to be a wide receiver, to shine on the gridiron. He remembers the jersey number (81) he wore two years ago on Sharon's freshman/sophomore team, but he had no memory of his varsity number (7) last year until his parents informed him. In fact, he remembers all but nothing of the season that ultimately cost him the life he once knew. His mother asked him if he gets sad sometimes. 'Yes,' he wrote, 'because I cannot get up.' But he loves the sport. And soon, with help from his brother and friends, he will take another step in his recovery by playing a different kind of football, a game free of physical pain. A game called fantasy. Bob Hohler can be reached at
USA Today
3 days ago
- USA Today
WNBA possibly headed to Boson with Sun sale: Everything we know so far
The WNBA may be headed to Boston sooner than expected. A deal has been reached between a group led by Boston Celtics minority owner Steve Pagliuca and the Mohegan Tribe to buy the Connecticut Sun and move the team to TD Garden by 2027, per the Boston Globe. The purchase would be for $325 million, a record for a women's professional sports franchise, per the Globe. A $100 million practice facility in Boston is reportedly in the works if the deal goes through. "The Boston group is targeting a 2027 move and would potentially play early season games in Providence to avoid any conflict with Bruins and Celtics playoff games," the Globe's Gary Washburn reported. The Sun has played games at TD Garden in the past, including one against Caitlin Clark and the Indiana Fever in July. The possible sale would give one of America's biggest cities a WNBA franchise sooner than expansion sites like Philadelphia, Cleveland and Detroit. However, the sale is pending WNBA approval, and that could get tricky per a key detail in the Globe's report. What could hold up the Boston sale? According to Washburn, the WNBA could eye Boston as a possible expansion site in 2033. That might complicate the sale, but it's also possible the league and its governors go ahead and approve this transaction. The Celtics are reportedly agreeable to the Sun moving into TD Garden, per Washburn. Will the team stay the Sun if the sale is approved? That detail is not yet known, as a potential rebranding is always possible. However, the Boston Sun has a nice ring to it. Could the WNBA force the Sun to stay in Connecticut? It's apparently possible, per Washburn. "A WNBA source said if the league forces the Mohegan Tribe to sell to a Connecticut-based buyer to [keep] the team in the state, which it has the power to do, Mohegan will cooperate, but the Tribe's choice is to sell to the Boston-based group," he wrote. "That source said the Tribe has determined selling the franchise would be the most financially lucrative, and it could then concentrate on running its casino and hotel." What are the problems with the Sun staying where they are? Well, Washburn outlined some of the biggest challenges the Sun faces by staying where the team is. "Mohegan Sun Arena is the league's fourth-smallest venue and the Sun lack a dedicated practice facility, instead conducting workouts at the gym inside the Tribe's community and government center," he wrote. "Often, the Sun are forced to share space with summer camps and other local events." That can lead to a lack of interest for WNBA free agents and dissatisfaction with rostered players. Where will the Sun play in 2026? The team will remain in Connecticut at Mohegan Sun Arena, no matter what happens with this possible sale.
Boston Globe
6 days ago
- Boston Globe
Is Mike Felger the most influential person in Boston?
To outsiders, it might sound absurd. In most cities, sports talk is drive-time filler. In Boston, it's emotional infrastructure. Anyone who's ever stewed in traffic on the Zakim, cursed a blown lead at TD Garden, or felt their stomach turn at a Red Sox trade deadline knows exactly what Walsh means. He wasn't listening for news. He was listening for the mood. Get The Gavel A weekly SCOTUS explainer newsletter by columnist Kimberly Atkins Stohr. Enter Email Sign Up And for more than a decade, the person setting that temperature hasn't been the mayor, a professor, or a CEO. It's been Michael Felger, cohost of 'Felger & Massarotti' on 98.5 The Sports Hub, the city's highest-rated radio show. Felger didn't invent the genre. He just adjusted the voltage. Since 2009, 'Felger & Mazz' — with cohost Tony Massarotti, a longtime sportswriter for the Globe and the Herald — has delivered a daily litany of complaints, forensic breakdowns, and gallows humor. Felger railed for years against Patriots owner Robert Kraft's frugality, arguing that the 'Patriot Way' was little more than a branding slogan for cutting costs during the Brady-Belichick years. He's hammered the Celtics' new ownership for hiding behind the 'second apron' of the luxury tax, calling it a convenient excuse to avoid spending what it takes to win. In March, Felger ranted on the air about how difficult and expensive it's become to watch sports on television. 'A lot of us have cut the cord, especially just this past year. NESN and NBC Sports Boston unfortunately jacked up the rates again, so eff you, I'm not going to do that,' Felger said. 'I'm going to cut the cord, I'll get YouTube TV. Ah, NESN's not on YouTube TV. So you get Fubo. Well, if I get Fubo, you know what I can't get on Fubo? TNT. So I can't see NBA nationally televised games, which is the best product going. I don't get that if I have Fubo. So eff you, Fubo.… Don't you get sick of getting digitally penetrated? Every time you want to watch a ball come across your TV screen.' Viewers Are Getting "DIGITALLY PENETRATED" When Trying To Watch Baseball - Felger In a city where politicians cycle out and owners stay hidden behind tinted glass, Felger has been the loudest, clearest, and most consistent voice. Not just in sports — in anything. For 15 years, no one has moved the mood of Boston more than he has. 'Felger & Massarotti' has long earned 25 percent of Boston's radio listenership among men 25-54. Walk into any bar and you'll hear echoes of Felger's monologue. He sets the agenda. He starts the fights. He gives people language to explain how they feel — often before they've figured it out themselves. Rawer, meaner, sharper Felger, 55, did not arrive with the local pedigree Boston usually demands of its sports media icons. Longtime Globe columnist Dan Shaughnessy, for example, grew up in Groton, while his rival Boston Herald columnist Steve Buckley grew up in Cambridge. Glenn Ordway — the former drivetime radio host of 'The Big Show' at WEEI — was raised in Lynn. Felger grew up in Milwaukee, a city whose relationships with its local teams are loving and pathologically polite. 'In Wisconsin, you're just kind of happy to be invited, happy to be mentioned, happy to be on the stage, but you understand you're not going to win it,' Felger told me in February. 'People back home don't treat sports that way I do. Here, it's different. That intensity, that whole thing, I liked better. It was refreshing for me.' He enrolled at Boston University, inhaled the cigarette cloud at the old Boston Garden, and felt something snap into place. He interned and eventually started writing for the Boston Herald, covering the Bruins and Patriots. As he rose in prominence among the city's sportswriters, he listened to WEEI, then the city's only sports radio station, which to his ear sounded suspiciously chummy. As Tom Brady and the Patriots turned Boston into Titletown in the mid-2000s, WEEI hosts were celebrating with team executives on the air and exchanging Christmas cards with general managers. The callers went soft on their favorite teams and were less critical. Felger went on Ordway's show, but he felt dissatisfied with the state of sports radio. Felger at CSN New England's studios in Burlington in 2017. Aram Boghosian for The Boston Globe 'I wanted to do more of the stuff we weren't doing on WEEI,' Felger said. 'Classic sports talk radio has been critical, fast-paced, topical, and not drifting around and losing focus. Did I mention being critical? It's important for sports radio. It's a critical medium.' In 2009, when CBS launched 98.5 The Sports Hub, Felger saw the opportunity to do sports radio the way he thought it should be done: something rawer, meaner, and sharper. He teamed up with Massarotti — whom he'd met when they were colleagues at the Herald — who was then writing acerbic sports columns for The Globe, channeled his idol Howard Cosell, and pushed back against fans' instincts for constant celebration. 'I wanted to tell it like it is,' Felger said. 'I wanted to dip my toe into the fellowship of the miserable and the negativity.' As 'Felger and Mazz' producer James Stewart says, 'When sports radio started in Boston, the fans would call up and be like, 'This team's never going to win,' and [Ordway] would say, 'Well, don't jump off the Tobin yet.' But with Felger, it's like, 'Yeah, it might be time to jump off the Tobin.'' Massarotti keeps things from flying off the rails. If Felger is the accelerant, Mazz is the afterburn — grimacing, interrupting, pushing back just enough. He gives the show shape and rhythm, keeping it from veering into total cynicism. He's part instigator, part guide — someone who knows when to challenge Felger and when to let the chaos cook. 'I'm sure you all have people like this. My wife is like this,' Felger said on the show one afternoon in April, kicking off a rant. 'She's got a relative on the phone.' 'Oh you want to say hi to so and so?' Massarotti added, throwing propane on the fire. 'You want to say hi to Aunt Millie? Say hi to Aunt Millie!' Felger yelled. 'Hi, Aunt Millie!' Massarotti exclaimed. 'Hi, Aunt Millie, oh, yeah, yeah,' Felger said. 'And you start passing the phone around the room. My wife doesn't get how painful that is. Talk to so and so. No, you talk to so and so!' Two years after they debuted, 'Felger & Massarotti' was the most popular radio show in the city. The corporatization of sports Meanwhile, Boston was diversifying — becoming a majority-minority city in 2000, with the foreign-born population reaching 29 percent in 2021, 16 points higher than it had been in 1960. Boston was becoming less provincial, with tech, academia, and health care exploding across the city. Major national chains expanded into areas like the Seaport, which transformed from a parking lot to a luxury playground. As Boston changed, The Sports Hub's biggest rival, WEEI, calcified around an old idea of Boston that was increasingly out of step with the city. In the early 2010s, the station's identity started to drift. (I was an intern at WEEI in 2013.) Its banter began to curdle into something more overtly political. Some shows veered into broader social commentary, often echoing the language of Fox News. On-air debates drifted from pitch counts and power players to rants about race, gender, and grievance. Sports talk blurred into something else entirely. 'A lot of people did want to hear the politics, but there were a lot of people that didn't,' says Michael Holley, who hosted shows at WEEI from 2005 through 2018 and now cohosts a show with Felger on NBC Sports Boston. Holley says that WEEI at the time veered into conservative political commentary in ways that alienated parts of the audience. 'Sometimes when you're so locked into politics, even when you're talking about sports, you can feel that there's something going on underneath. What's not being said?' Mike Felger and Tony Massarotti in 2017. Felger took a different path. 'Whatever his political positions were,' Holley says, they 'were generally far in the background.' He wasn't interested in gatekeeping the culture. He stuck to his North Star: skepticism. The same instinct that led him to question a cornerback's contract extension or second-guess a manager's pitching change also applied when he talked about the people in charge. Team owners weren't benevolent caretakers: They were billionaires trying to squeeze as much value out of a team as possible. Fans weren't helpless marks, but they were often being taken advantage of. That sensibility stood out at a time when Boston's institutions — its teams, its media, even its politics — were increasingly shaped by corporate interest. The clearest sign of Felger's growing influence came in 2011, when Red Sox owner John Henry, who owns the Globe, walked into 98.5 The Sports Hub to confront Felger on air. Henry was furious over the show's portrayal of the team as leakers and backstabbers in the wake of manager Terry Francona's firing — and especially the insinuation that details of Francona's personal life had been planted in the media by the front office. Felger didn't back down. The biggest reason Felger endures is that he channels the Boston that actually exists today — not the one frozen in black-and-white photographs of Southie taverns and cigar smoke. Felger's show isn't perfect. He's had his stumbles, like when he called former Major League Baseball pitcher Roy Halladay a 'moron' for piloting a stunt plane that crashed, leaving his young children fatherless. Most recently, Felger received criticism when he hammered Red Sox manager Alex Cora for missing a game for his daughter Camila's graduation from Boston College. And the program has had moments that forced internal reckoning, including a racially insensitive joke Massarotti made about two Black men in New Orleans, which sparked outrage among listeners locally and nationally. But in a city still shaking off its reputation for being hostile to outsiders, Felger's response to the backlash against Massarotti stood in stark contrast to the defensive posture that once defined WEEI. He addressed it directly, gave space for reflection, and didn't make himself or the show a victim. 'Minorities in this country do have to put up with a lot of crap, and comments like that just make it harder for them. We apologize for that,' Felger said on air. 'I feel bad that I personally didn't do more to correct it in the moment. I had a chance in just a split-second moment to do something, and I guess I just froze. So I feel bad about that.' The city has kept changing too. In 2021, Michelle Wu became the first woman and person of color elected mayor of Boston — a moment that felt inconceivable to me as a Korean-American growing up in Brookline during Tom Menino's reign. Wu, like Felger, came to the city for school and never left. She didn't look or sound like Boston's old guard. But she came to represent what the city was becoming: younger, more diverse, less beholden to the institutions that once defined it. The biggest reason Felger endures is that he channels the Boston that actually exists today — not the one frozen in black-and-white photographs of Southie taverns and cigar smoke. Whether it's torching billionaires for pretending to be poor or ripping MLB for turning the simple joy of watching a game on TV into a scavenger hunt, Felger plays the part Boston needs: the guy who still refuses to be bought off or distracted. He also embodies something essential about a city that doesn't always welcome change but that can't help evolving anyway. You can hear it in his caller board. It long ago stopped being the province of Irish and Italian lifers (although they still call in). These days, Felger and Mazz get calls from Roxbury, and even the occasional call from another state or another country. Felger speaks a dialect everyone recognizes: caffeinated and skeptical. Felger's greatest strength may be his clarity, but it can also read as rigidity. He's a little grumpier, a little more suspicious of anything new — streaming, social media, stats — like someone who still thinks the microwave is cutting-edge. He's not always in sync with how younger fans engage with sports. The show's ratings have slipped — down from an Like Felger, Wu didn't fit the mold of what Boston leadership used to look like. Does she ever listen to his show? Her office did not respond to requests for comment. As for her main rival in this year's election, Josh Kraft — whose father Robert remains one of Felger's favorite punching bags — he says he turns on both The Sports Hub and WEEI. 'Sports radio is great because it can test the temperature of what's going on,' Kraft told me. 'And they know how to maximize that temperature of what's going on. But sports radio is entertainment.' Kraft sounds a little dismissive of these shows. But his comment also captures something bigger: Sports radio doesn't just reflect Boston's mood but shapes it. It stokes and channels emotion. It's not just a mirror but a lever. Felger didn't bend the city to fit him. The city bent toward him — and toward the many Bostonians like him who've shaped what it's becoming.
