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Pasadena, California on January 31, 1993 was the place to be. The Rose Bowl hosts the Super Bowl for the last time. Not only was this the breakout party for the Dallas Cowboys and their Dynasty of the 90’s, but it was also essentially a primordial ooze of star power that included Garth Brooks singing the national anthem, Jon Bon Jovi perchance standing in the crowd (almost called upon to take Brooks’ place when the country super star almost backed out of the ceremony), O.J. freaking Simpson featured at the coin toss ceremony, and one Michael Jackson performing a very memorable halftime show.

The performance starts with a rousing jumbo-tron video image of Michael Jackson followed by stuntmen dressed to look like Jackson jumping out from the screen and landing above said jumbo-tron. On the North and South end of the stadium, stands two MJ clones. Then in anticipated unison, silence washes over the 90,000+ capacity crowd as all focus lands on the 50-yard line where a large diamond shaped stage suddenly erupts with pyrotechnics. The King of Pop then leaps out of a trap door at the front of the stage and lands on his feet to a chorus of cheers from screaming fans. He cooly stands there arms at his hips, trademark single glove on his right hand, and black military jacket sequined with gold bling, complete with badass aviator sunglasses. Etched in my elephant memory forever lies the image of Jackson’s flamboyant entrance enshrouded by fireworks and the flash of cameras (rolls not digital or cell phones). Time (and the stink of paparazzi) has eroded the remembrance of how huge this man was, how much popularity he commanded. Standing there in the middle of a packed stadium, on national television, on America’s greatest artificial holiday; Michael Jackson just stood there soaking in the raucous adoring crowd. With millions of dollars invested on network air-time for every precious second of commercials and ads on Super Sunday, as time is at a premium, imagine this music icon standing still… motionless for a full minute. Such is his clout that with no interruption, only the deafening applause of the audience, he turns his head to the left for a few more seconds and takes off his sunglasses only to explode into a rendition of “Billy Jean”.

I was only 10 years old at the time, barely into the 2nd semester of my 5th grade attempts at education. My brother was a senior in high school. Class of 1993. A great year by the way, in no small part that he shared his graduation with the likes of Zack Morris and Brenda Walsh. You couldn’t ask for a better High School memory tied in with television lore than 28 year-olds playing 18 year-olds on Saved by the Bell and Beverly Hills 90210. Because my parents at the time were on a cruise in the Caribbean, and my big brother was away on a school band trip, I had to stay with friends of the family for the week.

Watching the Super Bowl from their house, I could only exasperate in horror as the still young Dallas Cowboys trailed the Buffalo Bills 7-0 right out of the gate. Things would prove to turn around when an outbreak of turnovers in Dallas’ favor stemmed my turmoil and roughly transitioned my fragile sports fan emotions to jubilee. After Michael Irvin’s 1st of 2 TD receptions and a Lin Elliot (an auspicious Texas Tech graduate by the way) point after touchdown, my brother came to pick me up as soon as he got back from his trip. I know what you’re thinking, what kind of school would schedule a field trip right in the middle of Super Bowl week, much less Super Bowl Sunday?! So while my dad struggled to get reception on a cruise ship in the middle of the Caribbean sea, my brother and I made it back in time for the halftime show and Michael Jackson’s spectacular performance. From a 52-17 woodshed beating to usher in the resurrection of America’s Team, to 4 TD passes from future HOFer and Super Bowl MVP Troy Aikman, to the Bud Bowl (remember those? I loved those commercials), and to the infamous Leon Lett showboat almost-had-a-TD-only-to-see-Don-Beebe-hustle-back-to-knock-it-out-of-his-hands play; one couldn’t ask for a more memorable Super Bowl.

The halftime show was icing on the cake. The King of Pop provided the ultimate epitomization of what the Super Bowl should be about: an epic blow-out in the form of the game and the vast entertaining performances gleaned from this one Sunday. Only MJ could transition in one 8 minute show from opening with a glitzy-moonwalking “Billy Jean”, to bringing down the house with his crotch-grabbing “Black or White”, only to further take it up a notch and blow us away with a moving emotional plea to “Heal the World”.

Rest in Peace Michael. You will be missed. No one else could be “Bad” and “Heal the World” like you.