Everywhere you look, someone’s publishing another best-of-the-millennium list. Now, we’ll ignore the fact that the millennium doesn’t start until 2001; fact is, if you want to know what the best dog food of the last thousand years was, someone’s probably got a list.

Personally, I find that Alpo tastes a bit better than Kibbles and Bits but it’s not as satisfying as medium-rare Puppy Chow. Of course, that’s just my opinion. And that’s why lists are so maddening.

They’re arbitrary. They’re one man’s opinion. And any time you begin a sentence with “Best” and end it with “of the millennium,” someone’s gonna want to chew on your leg.

Stop sharpening your incisors. This isn’t the best of anything. It’s just a compilation of special sports figures and events and memories that happened to take place during the winter months in a pretty special state.

Like that day back in the late 1970s when Cony’s Gary Towle bounced the ball off the floor and into the Bangor Auditorium hoop.

Or watching Matt Rossignol play as a Van Buren Crusader. Once. And finally figuring out why hundreds of people were following the Baron around Aroostook County. He scored 51 that night, by the way.

Here’s an odd one: It’s not so much a memory or moment as it is an illustration of the small-town pride that is Maine sports.

In Indiana, when a small school beats a big one, Hollywood notices. Around here, it’s no big deal.

Just connect these dots in the young schoolgirl basketball season of ’99: Class A Presque Isle drums defending regional runner-up Bangor. But Presque Isle has already lost to Class B contender Houlton. And the Shires have fallen to defending Class C state champ Calais. And Calais? The Blue Devils lost to Class D power Woodland.

Open tourney? How about an all-class playoff.

And I remember the Kim Condon potato game, when she severely sprained an ankle on Friday, chilled the injury all day Saturday with cold spuds, and led Presque Isle to the ’97 Eastern Maine title that night with 18 points.

When she walked to the scorer’s table to check in for the first time, the Bangor Auditorium was absolutely electric. I still get chills, nearly three years later. And I’m supposed to be unbiased.

And how about that night in ’93 when the Bangor boys headed to MacKenzie Gym to take on Matt Arsenault and the Old Town Indians. At halftime of the JV game school officials made the couple thousand fans slide as far toward the middle of the bleachers as they could, because hundreds more were waiting out in the cold.

Everyone knew they were watching the eventual state champs play that night. But nobody was quite sure which team it would be.

That night, Old Town won. In March, it was Bangor’s turn.

Which brings us to Mark Reed.

Not as a winner. But as a runner-up, in ’92, after watching his 34-point effort get trumped by John Wassenbergh’s 43-point, 21-rebound effort in five overtimes.

And there, at midcourt, milling around amid the jubilant South Portland players and fans, was Bangor’s Reed. Smiling. Hugging. Sharing words with people he didn’t know. People he’d battled with for 47 minutes of basketball.

The message: Wasn’t this special?

And that’s a good place to stop.

Danny Coombs and Jack Scott may have stopped shooting jumpers before I was born, and Ordie Alley may have won a ton of titles before I began paying attention, but I can tell you this: No matter how much you miss in this state, there’s always enough good stuff to go around.

Merry Christmas. And happy almost-millennium.

John Holyoke is a NEWS sportswriter.