Special Education Teacher/Science/Paterson Public Schools—Courageous, Strong, Confidant yet Sincere and Caring. Loving Fathers...Love Their Children’s Mother
🚨Javier Aguirre on Jude Bellingham:
🗣️ Reporter:
“What made Jude Bellingham so difficult for your team to deal with tonight?”
🗣️ Javier Aguirre:
“It’s not just his quality. We prepared for his quality.
What makes him so difficult is that he never stays in one place.
One minute he’s helping in midfield, the next he’s arriving in the box like a centre-forward.
You think you’ve picked him up, then he disappears from your line of sight for one second… and that’s enough.
For his first goal, we had defenders in the right positions. But Jude attacked the space with perfect timing.
For the second goal, exactly the same story. He reads the game half a second quicker than everybody else.
Players like that punish the smallest mistake.
You can spend the whole week analysing them, showing videos, working on defensive shape… but if you lose concentration for one moment, he’s there.
Tonight, that’s exactly what happened.
We didn’t lose because we didn’t respect Jude Bellingham.
We lost because, for two moments, we couldn’t stop him from doing what world-class players do.
If you didn’t watch today’s England vs. Mexico game, you didn’t just miss the game of the tournament—you missed one of the greatest World Cup games ever.
Just imagine it: Mexico produced a sensational first half and completely outplayed England. It got so bad that Pickford had to pull off a miraculous save. Then, out of nowhere, Jude Bellingham struck twice in the 36th and 38th minutes. Mexico responded immediately with a goal in the 41st. Three goals in just five minutes!
The second half was pure chaos. O’Reilly smashed one off the crossbar in the 50th minute, Quansah was sent off in the 53rd, and England had to play the rest of the game with ten men. It looked like the perfect opportunity for Mexico to complete the comeback.
But the madness wasn’t over. England won a penalty in the 60th minute, and Harry Kane buried it to make it 3–1. Then, just six minutes later, Kane himself conceded a penalty, allowing Mexico to pull one back in the 66th minute. The game ended with England hanging on for a dramatic 3–2 victory.
This was the undisputed Game of the 2026 World Cup so far—and one of the most valuable World Cup qualification wins in England’s history. ❤️
🇳🇴 ESTA HISTORIA EMPEZÓ ANTES DE QUE ÉL NACIERA.
En 1997, un mediocampista noruego llamado Alf-Inge Haaland se paró frente al Brasil de Ronaldo, Romário y Roberto Carlos, y ayudó a vencerlo. Poco después, una rodilla rota le apagó la carrera antes de tiempo. Se volvió a casa, a Bryne, un pueblo de tractores y lluvia, cargando un fútbol inconcluso.
Tres años después nació su hijo. Le pusieron Erling.
El niño creció en ese pueblo donde no pasaba nada, pateando contra el viento del Mar del Norte, escuchando historias de un país que alguna vez había mirado de frente a los gigantes. Noruega no jugaba un Mundial desde 1998: Erling esperó el suyo, literalmente, toda la vida.
Se fabricó a sí mismo con una disciplina de monje: comía, dormía y entrenaba como un profesional desde antes de serlo. Lo llamaron robot, androide, máquina. Se equivocaron de palabra: las máquinas no heredan deudas.
Anoche, en Nueva Jersey, la saldó. Un cabezazo y un zurdazo letal para tumbar a Brasil, meter a Noruega entre los ocho mejores del mundo y firmar siete goles en el torneo. Ya integra un club de leyenda: es apenas el sexto hombre en la historia —el primero en 53 años— en llegar a 50 goles con su selección en menos de 50 partidos. Los otros cinco incluyen a Puskás, a Gerd Müller y a Pelé.
Contra Brasil, como el padre. Por el padre. El fútbol le debía un final a los Haaland y tardó veintinueve años en pagarlo.
Los vikingos ya pueden remar tranquilos: el cuento quedó completo. 🇳🇴⚡
Haaland is ridiculous - no on like him.
Can barely touch the ball for an entire 90 minutes & still be the best player with the biggest impact. Every touch turns to magic for Norway & terror for the defenders.
ERLING BRAUT HAALAND 🇳🇴
This story has laid largely dormant in my mind for 25 years. Never gone, but very hard to think about the horror of that morning and I’d rather not. This is my morning of September 11, 2001.
At this point in my life, I am a pitching coach for The Brooklyn Cyclones, the Mets’ minor league baseball team. I have a sponsor’s softball game at our ballpark at 10 AM. My house in Jersey is about an hour drive away. I’m at my kitchen table having coffee, getting ready to head in at around nine. I put on the news. The traffic report mentions it’s a little heavy so I decide I’ll leave early. Just as I’m heading out the door the news breaks that a small plane appears to have hit one of the Twin Towers. I stopped to listen. The news reporter looks concerned and confused, but not panicked. It’s an unfolding moment and she’s keeping her cool. The look of disbelief was unstable; no answers, just confusion. She was trying her best, in her own way, to not create a mass panic. Whoever she was, she deserves a ton of credit, along with the other reporters who did the same thing.
I head to my car and put on 1010 WINS. I decide to head up Route 36. There is a bridge that crosses the Shrewsbury River that allows a direct view to the city. When I get there, I’m in disbelief. There is smoke coming from the top of one of the towers, yet still no panic on the radio, just reporting of what is currently known.
I call my daughter, who works in the city. I asked her where she is. She tells me she’s coming up the escalator from the bottom floors of the World Trade Center, exiting the subway. We stay on the phone. I hear the strain in her voice. Whatever has happened is not good and she is witnessing it firsthand. The radio does not betray the gravity of what happened. They are in disbelief along with all of us.
I step on the gas, and race up 36. By now I figure I’ll turn left, head into the city, pick up my daughter, and then drive on to the ballpark in Coney Island. We get cut off on the phone. The confusion on the radio continues and escalates. She calls me back a few minutes later. “Dad, I just came up the escalator and there are people jumping out of the windows, there’s people jumping out of the windows.” I ask her how high they are jumping from, trying to get a feel for what is happening. I am not ready for what she’s about to say. “80 floors.” A second plane hits the other tower. This is a nightmare, and I begin to feel panic coming up within me.
I take the Staten Island exit off of the parkway and approach the Outerbridge. I see cars stopped. Then the news comes over the radio. All bridges and tunnels are closed to the city. At the last possible moment, I turned off to the right and circled back down, heading back to my house. I’m doing over 100 miles an hour. I highly doubt a cop is going to stop me. I’m thinking, “What now?” I call my friend Lenny and say “I need your boat!” He asked me,“Where are you going?” I said, “To the city to get my daughter.” He’s well aware of what’s going on, and says, “I’m going with you.” I said, “No you’re not. I don’t know what I’m getting into. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. I don’t even know if I can get there but I have to try. I appreciate your offer, but I got it.” We plan to meet at his boat within 20 minutes. I pause going over the bridge on 36, take a look back, and it is beyond horrific. There’s people in those buildings and I hope one is not my daughter.
I call my daughter back, thank God I get a hold of her, and let her know the plans. I tell her to stay at her office. “Stay there until I get there. Stay put!” I swing by my house real quick. I have an idea I’m probably gonna need my father's flag. He was an army veteran who spent time in Iwo Jima. I plan on hanging it off the side of the little boat. Hopefully that will let the authorities know I’m on the home team. I run in the house and remove it from the triangle box in which I keep it and head down to the marina. My friend’s there and insists on going. We jump in and off we go.
Within minutes, a little comic relief. We need gas. Thankfully, there’s a fueling marina at Bahr’s Landing. We pull in. The young man working the pump was curious about where we are going. We fill up, he says good luck, and on our way. The radio is on. The news is still confusing but becoming clearer. Both towers have been hit. Both towers are on fire. We look at it. We see it in front of us, knowing we’re heading in.
I call my daughter. I tell her I should be there within a half hour, if we lose contact, I tell her to make her way down to the ferries evacuating people off the island. “Get to the top deck and look out to the open water. I’ll be in a small boat with grandpa‘s flag hanging off the side. Get to the top deck and wave and wave. If I see you, I’ll turn around and follow the boat back. If not, I’ll keep going.”
We’re a few miles out from the Verrazano Bridge. At this point, I think it’s going to be a dead end. I can’t imagine there won’t be police and Coast Guard closing off from that point. Suddenly, a small biplane with wings painted red and white appears. It is flying towards us but very erratically. I have no idea what that was about.
I have my daughter back on the phone. She finally arrived at her office on Wall Street. I tell her our ETA and then she feels something. The building shakes. “Dad, what was that?” I hear on the radio, which has made this whole scenario surreal. The radio has one report, my daughter has the live report, and we’re in the middle, trying to make sense of the whole thing…it’s impossible. You cannot make sense of this moment. I hear on the radio that the building collapsed, but I tell my daughter not to worry about it. It’s probably just all the trucks and everything rumbling around. I make up some nonsensical answer, and she was not in the mood to analyze anything. She was terrified.
Still no Coast Guard or police boats. We keep going under the bridge. Smoke billowing in front of us. The smell is unimaginable. It just smells like burning everything. It’s an acidic, rancid smell. Heartbreaking. Because I know what it is. We’re beginning to approach Governors Island. I tell Lenny to stay to the right, we’ll go around and then go straight towards Pier 11. So far, everything is going according to plan, a plan that is being made up as I go.
I’m looking at the smoke, the haze and everything and I’m in disbelief. My mind makes up that the tower is still there. “I can see the tower Lenny, can you see the tower?” “I can’t see it.” “It’s right there.” But it wasn’t there. It was gone. It was a pile of rubble. Confirmed by the papers, worksheets and everything flying through the air over our heads. Literally, pieces of paper. Pieces of paper that somebody sitting at their desk was working on an hour ago are now floating through the air, as well as the poor soul who was doing the work.
We’re around Governors Island and then, the inevitable. A small Coast Guard boat, that looks like a red inflatable boat, makes a B-line right for us. Machine gun mounted on the bow. I stand up on our bow and I’m frantically waving my father's flag that I’ve tied to the side of the boat. They come racing up in a no nonsense mood, helmets, guns, everything pointing right at us. They come right up next to our boat. “Where are you going?” “I’m going to pick up my daughter.” They turn, have a short conversation, I don’t know what’s gonna happen, then they turn back to me and say “Go ahead.” I could’ve fallen over.
I call my daughter again and thankfully get through and tell her head to the water. I’m coming up to Wall Street now. We head for the pier and pull up. lt’s kind of bouncy because of all the tugboats loading people on and getting them off the island. It was organized chaos but it was organized. I have so much respect for the men and women who handled that without panic. We pull up next to the pier. It’s about a 5- or 6-foot reach to the railing. I grab it. I’m holding on, ready to let go, throw my leg over the railing, and Lenny yells, “Don’t let go!” “Why? What’s the matter?” The engine died. This is great, I’m this close and I’m gonna fall in the water. I’m holding on with one hand on the boat and the other on the railing, being stretched like I’m in a torture device. Between the current and the bouncing, I don’t know how I stayed up. The longest 30 seconds of my life when he goes, “OK, OK. I got it.” I let go of the boat and climb over the side. I tell him to circle around right here. I’ll be back.
I begin to run up Wall Street. Unbelievably the first police officer I see on shore is from my hometown. He is directing people to the massive tugboats and the ferry boats getting people off of the island. He sees me and asks what I’m doing there. I explained to him that I’m going to get my daughter. He says good luck, I’ll see you at home.
Seconds later, strangely, an older lady comes up to me and says, “Excuse me, aren’t you Bobby O?” “Yes I am.” “Oh, I just love you. You are so fun to watch.” Then her son, who understood the gravity of the situation, says, “OK mom, come on, we gotta go.” I thanked her and her son and went on my way. Can’t make that stuff up.
I continued making my way up Wall Street. Incredibly, there’s my daughter coming down. It’s like a miracle. It’s a miracle in front of my eyes. I grab and hug her. We head back down to the water. We get to the water’s edge where the railing is, she looks down. Lenny has pulled up by then and she looks down and I said “Look, you gotta jump. There’s no other way, you’ve gotta jump.” It’s probably at least a 5-foot jump down to the deck to a bouncing boat with a wet bow being pushed around by the current and choppy water. She looks at me one last time, looks at the boat, and jumps. She lands and rolls but she is fine. I look around one last time at the surreal scene of I don’t even know what to call it. I jump down, hug my daughter again, sitting in our seats. We turn and head back down home. No one deserves this to happen to them.
This weekend, I am reminded of and send nothing but respect to the individuals, first responders, ferry and tug boat captains beside me, who organized amongst the chaos to help one another on a horrific day.
Airdrop definitely needs to be dropped out; having so many coins in my hands is useless anyway.
Option 1: Start airdrop at 1M
Option 2: Like, repost, comment, and leave address for airdrop
Anyway, it's just for fun
Bees lives less than 40 days, visit at least 1000 flowers and produces less than a teaspoon of honey. For us it is only a teaspoon of honey, but for the bee it is a lifetime of work.
Thank You Bees!
Kobe Bryant says he wasn't the best athlete as a kid with knee issues and kids with beards dunking on him
"I never had any friends...when I came back to the state I wasn't the most athletic kid I was skinny I was the dork kid with high socks"
"I couldn't compete with these kids...there was kids that were like 12 years old with beards like what am I supposed to do with that? they're doing windmills and dunking backwards"
Tonight, June 29, the Strawberry Moon rises as the lowest-hanging full moon in nearly 20 years for Northern Hemisphere viewers.
It will not be matched until 2043.
June full moons follow a low path because they sit opposite the high summer sun near the solstice. This year the effect is stronger due to the low point in the 18.6-year lunar cycle. The moon rises far southeast, traces a shallow arc low in the southern sky, and sets far southwest.
Its low position near the horizon creates the moon illusion, making it appear larger and more dramatic. It may also look orange, red, or golden because its light passes through more atmosphere, scattering blue light and leaving warmer colors. The "Strawberry" name comes from the harvest season, not the color.
The best view is around local moonrise.