President Bush throws the first pitch of Game 3 of the 2001 World Series after 9/11
As silly as it sounds, it was important for him to throw a strike. No matter what you think of him, that was clutch/badass. Used the regulation rubber as well. Big time...
25 years later and I still think this is the greatest ceremonial first pitch ever
He was the most feared man in the NFL.
Limping down the tunnel. Jersey slung over his shoulder. A 9-year-old kid chasing him with a bottle of Coke.
“I think you’re the best ever.”
Mean Joe Greene almost didn’t do the commercial. He wasn’t an actor. First take? He burped.
They made him drink 18 bottles before they got the shot.
Then three words that America never forgot:
“Hey kid… catch.”
The jersey flew. The kid said “Wow, thanks Mean Joe.”
By then Greene already had 4 Super Bowls and a Steel Curtain resume that terrified quarterbacks. The commercial didn’t make him a legend.
It just showed the country the giant wasn’t mean after all.
47 years later that 60-second spot still hits harder than most movies.
Did you see it live… or did somebody tell you the story?
🎥Coke Ad:
Filmed in May 1979.
First aired October 1, 1979 on Monday Night Football.
Went national when it ran during Super Bowl XIV on January 20, 1980.
"Take On Me" is still receiving 1.17 million streams a day on Spotify.
Forty years later, we're still playing the same songs and attempting the same impossible high notes in the car.
Those were the numbers when I captured them yesterday.
The 1980s apparently refuse to retire.
There is a reason we keep going back forty years to find something worth turning up.
The first Christian was a felon.
Not Peter.
Not Paul.
Not your pastor.
A criminal. Hanging on a cross. Hours from death.
He beat everyone to paradise.
Before the disciples figured out the resurrection.
Before Paul got knocked off his horse.
A thief looked at Jesus and said, "Remember me."
And Jesus said, "Today."
The first Christian had no church.
No baptism.
No 6-week membership class.
He had nails in his wrists and six hours to live.
And he's been in paradise for 2,000 years.
Meanwhile.
You've been in church for 20 years.
You can articulate penal substitutionary atonement.
And you're still wondering if that guy who prayed last week really "got it."
The first Christian didn't "get it."
He got HIM.
He didn't understand substitution.
He didn't understand justification by faith alone.
He understood one thing:
The man next to him was a King.
And he wanted in.
"Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom."
That's the whole conversion.
No altar call.
No follow-up email.
Just a criminal, a King, and a request.
And here's the part that should wreck you:
His theology was WRONG.
"When you come into your kingdom."
He got the timeline completely wrong.
And Jesus saved him anyway.
He didn't correct his eschatology.
Didn't say, "Well actually..."
He just said, "Today."
The first Christian had bad theology and a good King.
Some of you have great theology and no King at all.
You've won every argument.
And you've never once said "remember me" like you meant it.
The first Christian wasn't impressive.
He was desperate.
And desperation got him further than your diploma.
2,000 years of church history.
Councils. Creeds. Confessions.
And the first one through the door was a dying criminal who couldn't even fold his hands.
You scrolling through X right now with your Reformed credentials and your theological hot takes...
The guy who beat you to paradise couldn't read.
He knew one thing:
He was dying.
And so was Jesus.
And Jesus was still a King.
That's faith.
Not a system. A surrender.
Not knowledge. Recognition.
Not performance. Desperation.
The first Christian.
A felon.
A failure.
A man with hours to live and nothing to offer.
And he's been home longer than anyone.
What's your excuse?
What made the 80s special was that almost NO ONE -- except some teachers who still thought it was the 60s -- was uptight.
Everyone was cool. Everyone could take a joke. You never had to walk on eggshells. The girls were cool. Race relations were cool. We all had part-time jobs. We all had beater cars. We all drank beer, smoked cigs, went to the movies, watched MTV, and only wanted to have fun, not prove we were good people.
You had to be there.
As the NFL season approaches, and the calendar turns to September...
Some poetic verse for you, as read by NFL Films' John Facenda
"Autumn is a gypsy queen🍂..."
@GrowingUpRetro The last line could've been in an 80's version of "The Wonder Years".
I can hear Daniel Stern now.... "And somehow, with a whole lot less technology life felt like it had a while lot more living in it..."
Today is August 29th, 1987.
Ronald Reagan is President.
A gallon of gas is about 90¢.
A movie ticket costs around $4.
The average new car costs about $10,000.
The average new home costs around $105,000.
Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” has been one of the songs of the summer.
Dirty Dancing just opened in theaters.
RoboCop, The Lost Boys, Full Metal Jacket and The Living Daylights are also playing.
The Nintendo Entertainment System is taking over living rooms.
MTV still means music videos.
Bon Jovi shirts, acid-wash denim, Reebok high-tops and Swatch watches are everywhere.
Michael Jackson’s new album Bad drops in just a few days.
There’s no internet.
No smartphones.
No streaming.
If somebody leaves the house, you might simply have no idea where they are until they come back.
It’s Saturday.
Summer is almost over.
But for one more weekend...
It’s still 1987.
Mr. Mister put an ancient prayer into the middle of a No. 1 pop song.
"Kyrie," released in 1985, built its chorus around the Greek phrase "Kyrie eleison."
It means "Lord, have mercy."
Richard Page later said the song was, essentially, a prayer.
And in 1986, that prayer went all the way to No. 1.
I wonder how many of us were singing along without knowing what we were saying.