This kid probably wanted to leave so he could win but I'm like everyone else which is I never would have thought Columbus though.

Not surprised that he left for another school but did not consider Columbus as a landing spot.

Mike E., I agree with much of what you said, especially the FIU turf.  It should have been replaced years ago.  Love your Zamboni reference.  I noticed this year a lot of players staying on the ground for a while after tackles.  It appeared the landings were as tough as the tackles.  Since we’re mentioning the FIU turf, wasn’t it ironic the year a team from Dade County failed to win a state title 305 is plastered on it?  I digress.   The great Wavebb and myself discussed this while we were at Drive Pink.  We came to the conclusion that the field was prescription turf that had been rolled out.  If you looked at it closely there appeared to be small divots that were pretty hard to see.  I could be wrong.  @Joshua Wilson would be able to answer that question.  The parking at Drive Pink was a sand pit.  Especially awful was paying $20 a game while waiting in a traffic jam to get in. I was told by a very good source in Tallahassee that FAMU lost the 2nd year of the finals because there were some discrepancies concerning the finances.  Also, there wasn’t much time in between games so the locker rooms needed to be exited fairly quickly and the next team could get in to get ready for their game.  Apparently Aquinas did not care about this and stayed much longer than agreed upon for either Lakeland or Venice who played in the night game.  The night team was very unhappy about it.

Oh, Mike, my fellow gridiron wanderer from the Venice side of the swamp—first off, hats off to you for enduring those last five championships and then this year without your Indians hoisting the hardware. Four years straight in the finals? That's like showing up to the prom with a different date each time, only to watch some other schmoe steal the crown. Me? I've been chasing these state title ghosts longer than I've been dodging bad bets and worse blind dates, and let me tell you, the FHSAA's venue carousel has spun me 'round more times than a roulette wheel in a hurricane—usually with a cold beer in one hand and a losing ticket in the other.Now, you hit on FAMU's Bragg Stadium like it was a one-night stand gone wrong—and brother, you're preaching to the choir. But let's rewind the tape to when I was knee-deep in my FAMU days back in the mid-70s, nursing a cheap beer instead of whatever rotgut the frat boys were guzzling, 'cause even then I knew the right buzz could sharpen the eye for spotting an underdog worth betting on. Picture this: 1976, my first state title tango, the ultimate David-vs-Goliath showdown—Godby versus Carol City down in Lakeland at Bryant Stadium (right next to that baseball gem, Joker Marchant—easy mix-up for an old observer who's had one too many over the decades). Carol City rolled in like a Miami freight train, big and brawny, while Godby's Cougars were the scrappy underdogs: smaller up front, lightning-fast, and gritty as a dirt-road tackle. They ran that wishbone offense like outlaw poetry—triple-option wizardry, pitching the ball till the Chiefs were chasing shadows. Sammy Knight juking like he was dodging alimony, Chris Hobbs bulldozing like a pint-sized freight train himself. Godby pulled the upset 21-15, and I was a fresh-faced Rattler hollering in the stands 'cause those Tallahassee boys had just done the impossible—knocking off Gene Cox's Leon Lions for the first time ever at Capital Stadium (good old natural grass back then, getting gloriously chewed up under the lights).   I got drawn into that Godby run like a moth to a porch light—dorm buddies dragged me to the games, and next thing I know, I'm hitchhiking south with a six-pack riding shotgun and a pocket full of foolish optimism. Bryant Stadium? Beautiful city-maintained grass field, lush and forgiving—perfect for those wishbone cutbacks and dives. Plenty of seating, parking that didn't require a treasure map or a sacrifice to the traffic gods. All-around gem of a high school football venue back in the day. Attendance? Thin as the FHSAA record book shows—folks from Tallahassee weren't driving four hours just to sweat through their shirts unless it was a miracle, and Godby's run was pure divine intervention (helped along by a few post-game celebratory beers).Fast-forward through the decades, and I've bounced around more FHSAA finals venues than a pinball in a tilt-a-whirl. Starting in '89 with the first neutral-site finals at Larry Kelly Field in Daytona Beach (that Bethune-Cookman home turf)—ocean breeze was nice, but the setup? Like watching a symphony in a sardine can. Fans crammed, no room to breathe, and those high-placed hog-wire fences (chain-link so rigid and tall you couldn't switch sides without plotting a prison break) gave the whole thing that classic inmates-vs-guards vibe straight out of the original Longest Yard. Wrong-side loyalists needed a passport to switch allegiances. I lost a bet on a 3A game there, drowned my sorrows in a lukewarm stadium beer, swore off parlays for a week, and ended up dating a cheerleader's aunt who turned out to be allergic to fun (and apparently to guys who drink domestic light).   Then the Citrus Bowl era in Orlando—shade? Only if you smuggled in your own umbrella tree. Caught a few there in the 90s; bands had more room than fans, cheerleaders performing in phone booths. Parking was a circus; I once circled an hour, missed kickoff, and blamed a "mysterious traffic hex" on the guy who sold me that overpriced beer. But the grass? Pristine, Mother Nature's welcome mat. Always preferred over turf.Drive Pink? You nailed the parking apocalypse—first year, I parked so far I needed a Sherpa and compass (and finished my tailgate beer just to make the hike bearable). But shade on both sides? Luxury! Watched day games without turning into beef jerky. Concessions solid, bathrooms clean, and that grass field? Gold standard, every time.FIU? Gates playing hide-and-seek, lines longer than a CVS receipt—classic rookie-year chaos. But once in, not bad for a concrete jungle. Caught that LM-VB game; shade saved my hide. Bands and cheerleaders squeezed like afterthoughts—standard FHSAA oversight. And that worn-out turf? Zamboni treatment, you said it, Mike—looked like a bad toupee after a rain delay. I sat "away" side once in a blowout, just to dodge the homer horde. Felt like a spy nursing a beer and whispering cheers into my cup.Bottom line, Mike: Neutral sites are like blind dates—full of promise, usually end in regret and a long, lonely drive home (often with an empty cooler rattling in the backseat). FHSAA's tried 'em all, from Bryant's lush grass in Lakeland to Daytona's hog-wire prison vibes and Orlando's sweat lodge, and those attendance numbers prove folks stay home, flip on the TV, and save gas for therapy. Me? I'll keep showing up, absurd tales and a cold one in tow, 'cause nothing beats live football folly. Here's to Venice storming back next year—maybe they'll freshen the turf by then. Or not. Either way, crack open a cold one for me; this observer's staying neutral... and thirsty.

I saw today on social media the Rise Preparatory Academy owner complaining about a "certain private school in Miami" buying players to try and get back on top.  West Broward and West Boca are loaded with RPA players so this can't be coincidence.