Thanks to an insightful comment on my recent post titled “Immaculate Deception?” I am now providing a follow-up that puts the final nail in the coffin. The question mark in the title can officially be removed—the deception is undeniable. The evidence speaks for itself.
Patricia Rooney Mara is an American actress. She has received various accolades, including nominations for two Academy Awards, two Golden Globe Awards and a British Academy Film Award. Born into the Rooney (known for it’s connection to sports, owning the Pittsburgh Steelers of the NFL) and Mara (known for owning the New York Giants of the NFL) families.
So, I recently dove into the rabbit hole of a Pittsburgh sporting event so drenched in numerology it practically came with a conspiracy theorist starter kit. The saga starts with the suspiciously early death of Bob Moose, the “goat” of the infamous Pirates game on 10/11/72. Flip that date around and—voilà—you’ve got 9/11/01. Coincidence? Maybe. Suspicious? Definitely.
Fast forward two months to 12/23/72, and the city of Pittsburgh seemingly cashes in its cosmic chips for what NFL Films would later anoint as “The Immaculate Reception.” This wasn’t just a football play; it was a miracle with cleats—a Hail Mary that flipped the Steelers’ fortunes faster than you can say “sports dynasty.” After four decades of mediocrity, Pittsburgh snagged its first-ever playoff win, setting the stage for four Super Bowl titles before the decade’s end.
I was born and raised in southwestern Pennsylvania, which meant that by default of where my parents copulated and conceived, “My Teams” were the Pirates, Steelers, and Penguins. A recent interaction with Tyrone on my Rickey Henderson post brought back a particularly vivid and traumatic memory from when I was nine years old.
The memory revolves around a wild pitch thrown by a relief pitcher during the 1972 playoffs—a moment that cost the Pirates their chance at victory. To most, it might seem like just another heartbreaking sports moment, but to my 9-year-old self, it was monumental. I can still recall isolating myself and crying inconsolably, grappling with the crushing weight of disappointment for the first time. In hindsight, those moments teach us to handle life’s setbacks.
But today, with the clarity that comes from five decades of reflection, It’s obvious that it was all scripted. Yes—scripted for dramatic effect. Almost nothing we experience (in the media) is truly natural or organic. Let’s just consider this yet another piece of evidence that manipulation isn’t a new tactic—it’s something we’ve been subjected to for our entire lives.
The (1-minute) video picks up in the bottom of the 9th inning of the final game of the divisional playoffs. The winner would go to the World Series. When he throws the wild pitch, there were 2 outs and only a runner a third. He literally could have walked two more batters. Bob Moose was born 10/9/47 and “died” on 10/9/76 at the age of 29.
Rickey Nelson Henley Henderson passed away on December 20th at the age of 65, leaving behind a legacy as baseball’s greatest leadoff hitter and baserunner. His life and career were a testament to passion, resilience, and an unwavering belief in seizing the moment.
Above is a photo from last weekend at Dick’s Sporting Goods in Denver. As we walked in there was a display rack that must have had 300 jerseys on it, each with the number 3 and the name Wilson on it. For those who don’t follow football, the Denver Broncos signed Wilson two years ago to a monster deal that was supposed to last five years. He did not work out, and the Broncos just recently released him, taking a huge pay hit (cap ceiling, if your follow football). Some notes:
These jerseys are marked down 75%, which tells us how far Russell Wilson’s stock has fallen. But take note: Their retail price is $130! That knocks them down to about $32.50 each, which is probably still profitable for Dick’s.
I am sure I am like most everyone in that while I enjoy some sports, I do not idolize players, and would not for a second consider wearing a shirt that has a name on the back that is not mine. What is wrong with sports fans? Are their lives so empty that they must compensate by putting someone else’s name on their back? Do they also have this annoying habit of referring to the team they support as “we”? Isn’t that interesting.
This link is to “Jake the Asshole” on YouTube. Jake did a two+-hour video that was more or less an open mic taking comments from his many followers. I watched maybe thirty minutes of it, enough to conclude that the guy is not only not crazy, but is even smart and funny. In this video, which is thirteen minutes and fun to watch, at 5:45 he inserts a Three Stooges clip, which is hilarious and completely appropriate.
I watched a lot of football these last nine days, and came away with that feeling that outcomes are predetermined.
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But first, Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift. I am not buying it. I chose the photo above because something about it says to me that it is lacking electricity. He is about to kiss the bridge of her nose, and she appears to be holding her head in such a way as to avoid making facial contact. They are in public, there’s lots of photos, and in some they are kissing. I could be all wet here, they could be hot and sweaty lovers. But with her showing up at all of his home games, and cameras flipping to her in the booth every time he does something good on the field, there seems to be an element of staging. (Just to stifle rumors otherwise, her long extended wrist and fingers say she is a woman, and not a tranny. She has a male-like face, but no Adam’s Apple.)
Above is a press conference by Cincinnati Bengals quarterback Joe Burrow’s in the wake of the team’s last-second loss to the Houston Texans last Sunday.
I wanted to watch that game, as Burrows is one of the better QBs in the league and Texan Quarterback C.J. Stroud is coming off an amazing 500-yard five-touchdown game the prior week. I have NFL Sunday Ticket, so that any time there is an out-of-market game I want to see, it is a sure thing that NFLST will black it out. They did. Of course they did.
“Title Nine” is a 1972 law that forbade discrimination against women in any educational institution in the country that accepted federal funding. In practical impact, it meant every school except Hillsdale and a few others.
The changes over time were dramatic – women’s sports, while never the equal of men’s in basketball or football, nonetheless offered opportunities for women to compete, get scholarships, and have their sports funded. I have watched women’s sports, and the competition is as intense as any male counterpart. But no one with any sense imagines that women and men should directly compete.
I have a client of sorts, someone for whom I perform useful tasks. Since I am retired I don’t bill him, but every now and then he will send me a check. Recently he sent me $350, and I regarded it as found, or mad money. What to do with it?
We do not have cable and so do not have access to most professional football games. That’s OK by me as I stopped being a football fan back in the early 1990s. I was appointed “commissioner” of a fantasy league and so had to keep track of the stats. I could have just downloaded them off the infant Internet, but doing that meant that I had to abide by rules I did not like. Our league had its own rules, such as a waiver wire and bonuses for things like a 300 yard passing game etc.
Piece of Mindful 