OMG NYC!!! 🤩 It was such an honor to share the evening with you and play our biggest headlining show to date!! Thank you SOOOOO much for selling out Forest Hills 🌲✨ Until next time 😌
Can’t beat em join them. 🤣🤣🤣Thank you to my @nyknicks peeps for sending the NY love package! Thank you Rick! Thank you Jalen! Family for life! Win that ish!!
Man, last night hurt and I’m sorry we came up short and I’ll take it. But to the fans, the CLA was the loudest arena I’ve played in all year and y’all showed out every game! We’ve got the best seniors in the country and for them… We’re still going🙏🏽 #GoCocks
Brunson didn't appear to roll over his angle or knee or anything. Didn't seem like anyone knocked him either. Looked like just a non-contact injury. Took up for a jumper, started to flinch in the air and then went down, holding his left leg.
𝗥𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗜𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗱.
The eyes of the world will be on Columbia this August when we welcome @LFC and @ManUtd to Williams-Brice Stadium.
📰: https://t.co/yNqY1hBc9V
#Gamecocks I #RivalsInRed
An unknown cowboy in Austin, Texas, circa 1880. I look at him staring back at us and feel a certain melancholy. I wonder what became of him. I'm reminded of this, written by N. Howard Thorp in 1908:
WHAT’S become of the punchers
We rode with long ago?—
The hundreds and hundreds of cowboys
We all of us used to know?
Sure, some were killed by lightning,
Some when the cattle run;
Others were killed by horses
And some with the old six-gun;
Those that worked on the round-up,
Those of the branding-pen,
Those who went out on the long trail drive
And never returned again.
We know of some who have prospered,
We hear of some who are broke,
My old pardner made millions in Tampa,
While I’ve got my saddle in soak!
Sleeping and working together,
Eating old “Cussie’s” good chuck,
Riding in all kinds of weather,
Playing in all kinds of luck;
Bragging about our top-hosses,
Each puncher ready to bet
His horse could outrun the boss’s,
Or any old hoss you could get!
Scott lies in Tularosa,
Elmer Price lies near Santa Fe,
While Randolph sits here by the fire-side
With a “flat-face” on his knee.
’Gene Rhodes is among the high-brows,
A-writin’ up the West;
But I know a lot of doin’s
That he never has confessed!
He used to ride ’em keerless
In the good old days
When we both worked together
In the San Andrays!
Building big loops we called “blockers,”
Spinning the rope in the air;
Never a cent in our pockets,
But what did a cow-puncher care?
I’m tired of riding this trail, boys,
Dead tired of riding alone—
B’lieve I’ll head old Button for Texas,
Towards my old Palo Pinto home!