Mike Maughan

Amazing to see @5ForTheFight_ grow from an idea to a jersey patch to a cause supported by hundreds of thousands of people across the world. Today we announced that we’ve raised over $50 million for cancer research. And we’re nowhere near being done. deseret.com/utah/2023/9/19…

Today Penguin Press announced my new book, Off Ramp: How to Be a Peacemaker in an Age of Contempt. I’ve been working on this project for a few years. It’s about something I think a lot of us feel. We’re losing the ability to disagree without seeing each other as enemies. There has to be a better way, and this book is my attempt to find it. It isn’t easy. And I don’t always get it right. But I think it’s worth trying. I know my mom will read it (and I hope you will too). More here: penguinrandomhouse.com/books/827061/o…

“I’m going to do it. End of story. I’m not letting myself go down that path, I’m not crying. My head is high, I’m standing tall and I’m going to do my best and whatever the result is that’s what it is. You can never say, I didn’t try,” Lindsey Vonn A relentless mindset wins.

“Perhaps the greatest charity comes when we are kind to each other, when we don’t judge or categorize someone else, when we simply give each other the benefit of the doubt or remain quiet. Charity is accepting someone’s differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn’t handle something the way we might have hoped.” - Marvin Ashton #Sundaythought

RIP Catherine O’Hara. I’d like to think this is happening in heaven right now.

No sports organization treats their fans better than the Jazz. Free jersey exchanges, Ryan Smith constantly giving fans free tickets to games, giving back to the community, now this. I’m so proud to be a Jazz fan

Most incredible hockey game I’ve ever seen 🤯🤯🤯🤯 #TusksUp

“I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.”

I think it’s such a good testament to someone’s character when they bring all their different friends together and everyone gets on well

Mini Mammoth 🤝 mini mic Prepping for our Next Gen game with a question from the Carcone boys!

Hey @RyanQualtrics. I don’t know if you’re gonna see this… I really appreciate what you did, I was hoping we could’ve met you and I could’ve shaken your hand and thank you for your generosity! You’re a man of the people! Incredible game to go to and my wife said it was her favorite jazz game she’s been to, so that’s a win for both us and the team. Again from the bottom of my heart thank you everything, I saw you looking towards us a couple times… if you did, we saw you and tried to wave. I still would love to meet you and thank you and chat with you. With that being said…Go Jazz!

Words to live by today—and every day.

Sunsets are a good reminder that endings can be beautiful. Bidding adieu to 2025. Grieving for all it took from us. Grateful for all it brought.

In my whole life, I have known no wise people who didn't read all the time, none, zero. —Charlie Munger

“Think not of the books you’ve bought as a ‘to be read’ pile. Instead, think of your bookcase as a wine cellar. You collect books to be read at the right time, the right place, and the right mood.” -Luc van Donkersgoed

I have never known anyone like President Jeffrey R. Holland. Words were the brushes of his artistry, passion the oil of his paint, and love of Jesus Christ the canvas on which he painted. Like no one else, he had the capacity to break through a teleprompter or a pulpit or a microphone and squeeze my heart. I loved seeing him laugh. I loved hearing him teach. I loved being with him. When assigned to speak in the same meeting with him, I realized I was out of my league, much like I would have been had I ever tried to play basketball with Michael Jordan. When I learned of President Holland’s last hospitalization, I felt something a bit different than with his prior hospitalizations. He had completely worn himself out in the service of the Master. He had given all he could—and more. He had “fought a good fight… finished [his] course… [and] kept the faith" (see 2 Timothy 4:7). I will deeply miss the President of my Quorum, my fellow Apostle, and my dear friend.

BYU’s 6th best win just beat Notre Dame’s 2nd best win

I’ve loved this man all my life and am so grateful for his ecclesiastical and personal ministry. His name will always be a blessing.

Friends- This is a tough note to write, but since a bunch of you have started to suspect something, I’ll cut to the chase: Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die. Advanced pancreatic is nasty stuff; it’s a death sentence. But I already had a death sentence before last week too — we all do. I’m blessed with amazing siblings and half-a-dozen buddies that are genuinely brothers. As one of them put it, “Sure, you’re on the clock, but we’re all on the clock.” Death is a wicked thief, and the bastard pursues us all. Still, I’ve got less time than I’d prefer. This is hard for someone wired to work and build, but harder still as a husband and a dad. I can’t begin to describe how great my people are. During the past year, as we’d temporarily stepped back from public life and built new family rhythms, Melissa and I have grown even closer — and that on top of three decades of the best friend a man could ever have. Seven months ago, Corrie was commissioned into the Air Force and she’s off at instrument and multi-engine rounds of flight school. Last week, Alex kicked butt graduating from college a semester early even while teaching gen chem, organic, and physics (she’s a freak). This summer, 14-year-old Breck started learning to drive. (Okay, we’ve been driving off-book for six years — but now we’ve got paper to make it street-legal.) I couldn’t be more grateful to constantly get to bear-hug this motley crew of sinners and saints. There’s not a good time to tell your peeps you’re now marching to the beat of a faster drummer — but the season of advent isn’t the worst. As a Christian, the weeks running up to Christmas are a time to orient our hearts toward the hope of what’s to come. Not an abstract hope in fanciful human goodness; not hope in vague hallmark-sappy spirituality; not a bootstrapped hope in our own strength (what foolishness is the evaporating-muscle I once prided myself in). Nope — often we lazily say “hope” when what we mean is “optimism.” To be clear, optimism is great, and it’s absolutely necessary, but it’s insufficient. It’s not the kinda thing that holds up when you tell your daughters you’re not going to walk them down the aisle. Nor telling your mom and pops they’re gonna bury their son. A well-lived life demands more reality — stiffer stuff. That’s why, during advent, even while still walking in darkness, we shout our hope — often properly with a gravelly voice soldiering through tears. Such is the calling of the pilgrim. Those who know ourselves to need a Physician should dang well look forward to enduring beauty and eventual fulfillment. That is, we hope in a real Deliverer — a rescuing God, born at a real time, in a real place. But the eternal city — with foundations and without cancer — is not yet. Remembering Isaiah’s prophecies of what’s to come doesn’t dull the pain of current sufferings. But it does put it in eternity’s perspective: “When we've been there 10,000 years…We've no less days to sing God's praise.” I’ll have more to say. I’m not going down without a fight. One sub-part of God’s grace is found in the jawdropping advances science has made the past few years in immunotherapy and more. Death and dying aren’t the same — the process of dying is still something to be lived. We’re zealously embracing a lot of gallows humor in our house, and I’ve pledged to do my part to run through the irreverent tape. But for now, as our family faces the reality of treatments, but more importantly as we celebrate Christmas, we wish you peace: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned….For to us a son is given” (Isaiah 9). With great gratitude, and with gravelly-but-hopeful voices, Ben — and the Sasses

Tom Brady explains his mental edge and why practice (not gameday) creates separation. "There was a part of me that was a psychopath out there. I was extremely hypercompetitive every day. I didn't feel like let's get to Sunday and now it's the time...Every day is the time to give your best, even in practice." Every day your standards are either reinforced or lowered by how you treat practice. You don’t flip a switch into excellence. You rehearse it daily. 📹: Impaulsive Podcast

the jersey exchange is 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘‼️ can you spot yourself in line?!