Jared @JaredHesh

@darrenrovell @Sothebys @jalenbrunson1 should have this not some rando

Damn, Richard Jefferson with the clap back of the year

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.

Pirro: He caused damage and that damage was over $1000. Reporter: How do you prove that? Pirro: With an expert. Reporter: With his bare hands? Pirro: We believe it's his bare hands, both hands. Reporter: Do you believe it was damaged before? Pirro: He damaged it! Reporter: Had had already been damaged before? Pirro: He damaged the pool!

@Motiondyor I see that Pookiemoot hiding

Im giving away 3 Pokémon packs from my collection What Pokémon pack do you want to win! Like and Comment to enter! 🚨

@CoolGuyPodge awesome, in for 2!

Where’s he taking his talents this time

@BostonMassUSA Wait did the Boston account tweet this , that’s amazing. I love the future 😂

Supposedly, LeBron IS coming back for a third and final stint with the Cavaliers. Here we go

@VPasquantino Thanks for fighting the good fight Vinnie excited to watch you when you’re in town!

@bealolufc Lads finding Hoboken, love it - if you’re out again I’ll come by with my British kit and start belting some toons .

The Mets David Stearns Timeline: Buckle up. it's a long one. Because I am fucking done with the David Stearns defenders. #LGM 2024: David Stearns takes over a basically ready made roster. He throws a bunch of 1 year contract darts at a wall because he wants to rebuild the core of the team in his identity, so he has no interest in doing anything major. The darts mainly stick (he still only brought up Iglesias and Vientos because his other darts sucked or players got injured). The Mets go on a magical run with the most likeable team since 2015 and get within 2 wins of the World Series. David Stearns masterplan will have to wait. 2025: as a result of 2024, David Stearns is gifted one of the best players in baseball by wonderful owner @StevenACohen2.. David follow this gift up by doing basically nothing else to improve the roster other than begrudgingly signing Pete Alonso to an essential 1 year deal because he cant justify breaking up the core of this team and rebuilding it coming off a NLCS appearance + Juan Soto. Result? The offense performs decently enough for the season, while the starting pitching completely crumbles. Stearns responds by adding exactly zero starting pitchers at the deadline, instead going all in on a bunch of relievers and a corpse CF. The Mets miss the playoffs by 1 game, solely due to Stearns failure to put a starting rotation together + most of his deadline moves completely failing. 2026: Now that the Mets AREN'T coming off a great season, David realizes NOW is the time to start his plan. He lets Alonso and Diaz walk. Trades Nimmo and McNeil. The replacements for ALL these players are either hurt, useless, a free agent next year, or all 3. David Stearns replaced Alonso and Nimmo's 26 homers this year so far with Polanco and Semien's 10 home runs. NOT GREAT. On top of that, remember why we missed the playoffs in 2025? The terrible starting pitching? Stearns reacted to that by bringing in 1 (1!!!!!!) rental starting pitcher who has never pitched outside Milwaukee before. There is ZERO reason, why this lineup could not have had Alonso, Nimmo AND Bichette. In summation: Going into a year where we just needed to run the lineup back and invest in starting pitching, David Stearns decided to gut the lineup, upset the fanbase, bring in a few mercenaries, and almost completely ignore the only issue he had to fix. He is an abject failure as the President of Baseball Operations, who has been protected and coddled by the media and podcasters because he's accessible. He has destroyed this franchise for the sole purpose of wanting to treat the Mets like a GM Mode of MLB The Show and rebuild them in his image. He's a fraud. Fire him. Today. #LGM

me sitting with all the merch I ordered a week ago

Who knows him want to get him a jersey

Knicks Nation @KnicksNation

3 weeks ago

A young man wearing a Lakers jersey and a Knicks hat was stopped on the street. While explaining himself, he shared that he’s actually a Knicks fan, but his mom can’t afford to buy him a new jersey. The gentleman then gifted him a Knicks shirt. Incredible moment via bakardi1_

418 2K 28K 1.5M 2K

Y’all we can’t let them leave.

メキシコのみなさんに質問！ 今日は朝ごはんにこれを食べたんだけど、これはいったいなに？ 竹の皮に包んで蒸してあるやつなんだけど。