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I watched high school basketball games in Long Creek, Jordan Valley, Halfway and Sweet Home in the span of less than an hour the other evening.

No jet aircraft were involved.

I did not, so far as I can tell, tinker with the time-space continuum during my trip.

But even though the gymnasiums in those four towns are separated by hundreds of miles, and my journey took place during the wintry spell that slathered highways across much of Oregon with snow and ice, I heard in each place the distinctive squeak of sneakers on hardwood.

I listened to the crescendo of claps and yells from spectators when a player got loose for a breakaway layup.

I watched 3-pointers swish.

And some that barely grazed the rim.

I had this experience while reclining on my bed, a remote control in my right hand.

Among the powers that the internet has bestowed on society, the ability to almost instantaneously careen across the state — and, indeed, the nation — to watch teenagers dribble and pass and shoot is hardly significant.

But it is quite fun.

And, to anyone older than 25 or so (I’m 53, so uncomfortably beyond that threshold), it would once have been inconceivable.

My impromptu tour was possible due to the NFHS Network. The subscription service was created by the National Federation of State High School Associations.

Although the NFHS Network launched in 2013, the pandemic extended its reach considerably.

According to NFHS, the number of live views of high school events — the network covers 26 sports and other activities in addition to basketball — increased from 375,000 to 1.1 million during the first two months of the 2020-21 school year, the one most affected by virus-related closures.

The network offered two free cameras to schools. NFHS also boosted the amount of subscription revenue it shared with schools to help them recoup lost ticket sales when events were either canceled or closed to spectators.

I don’t recall ever watching an event on NFHS, or even hearing about the network, prior to the pandemic.

But over the past few years I’ve been a regular subscriber.

I use NFHS more for business than for pleasure.

The network makes it possible to watch, and write about, sporting events hundreds of miles away without the travel expenses and the time.

But occasionally I log in at home and, guided by the schedule on the Oregon School Activities Association’s website, embark on my figurative journey.

I find the experience fascinating.

Although I’ve long since been accustomed to the immediate and ubiquitous access to information that is the defining characteristic of the 21st century, it still strikes me as passing strange that I can watch, on a high-definition TV screen in my bedroom, a live basketball game in Long Creek.

Had I wanted to watch this particular contest in person, I would have had to drive 116 miles and cross four mountain passes en route.

Jordan Valley and Sweet Home are farther still.

Even Pine Eagle High School in Halfway, the nearest of the venues I visited that evening, is an hour’s drive — and probably longer than that what with the snow.

The video quality varies, to be sure.

In some gyms the viewpoint has a fish eye vantage point that can quickly induce a headache.

Occasionally the sound is absent.

And of course the experience is unavoidably ersatz.

I can’t smell the popcorn wafting in from the concession stand.

I can’t see the grins of the little kids who inevitably run onto the court during halftime to hurl the ball toward, and rarely into, the hoop.

I can’t make out the words on the tournament brackets and playoff banners or discern details from the other decor that’s unique to each gym.

I have learned, though, that Long Creek’s gym, which I have never seen in person, has pads behind the baskets in stripes of red and white, and that the scorer’s table is not on the floor but on a slightly elevated stage.

I was also reminded of how large the painted Spartan mascot is at Pine Eagle High School, spanning nearly the width of the court.

And in most places I’ve been able to see some, and occasionally all, of the wall-mounted logos for the school’s league rivals.

This is perhaps my favorite accoutrement of high school gyms. I find it compelling, for some reason I can’t quite express, to compare the ways different schools handle this task. Some have basic cloth pennants, while others have elaborate paintings that are truly works of art.

I am captivated too by the sense of history that comes through, even with the limitations of the cameras.

I wonder how many hundreds of games have been played in these gyms that are the antithesis of a college or pro arena.

I am reminded, each time I watch, that high school sports help to define towns — and in particular tiny remote villages such as Long Creek and Jordan Valley — in much the way that their local mercantiles do.

While I looked in at Long Creek and Jordan Valley and Pine Eagle, where the fans inside the gyms almost surely constituted the largest group of people within dozens of miles, I imagined those buildings as enclaves of warmth and light on a January night.

I thought of the spectators filing out after the final buzzer, zipping their jackets against the chill, their boots squeaking on the snow, heading home through the darkness.