Shannon O’Connell

[Ben Wierzba @coachwierzba]

Wierzba Adds Nine Newcomers for 2026-27 Season https://t.co/FKbV9QA6QM

[Shannon O’Connell @oconnellclan]

@KevinMacCauley Happens to us all the time with hurricanes. So unpredictable and evacuation costs a ton of money so I get why ppl are skeptical with preparations

[Evansville Women's Basketball @UEAthletics_WBB]

Aces are on campus 🤩

Excited to get to work with this group!

🏀 #ForTheAces

[Shannon O’Connell @oconnellclan]

@KevinMacCauley My kids always wanted to ride home with mom

[Gandalv @Microinteracti1]

Robert Mueller died last night.

He was 81 years old. He had a wife who loved him for sixty years. He had two daughters, one of whom he met for the first time in Hawaii, in 1969, on a few hours of military leave, before he got back on the plane and returned to Vietnam. He had grandchildren. He had a faith he practiced quietly, without performance. He had, in the way of men who have seen real things and survived them, a quality that is increasingly rare and increasingly mocked in the country he spent his life serving.

He had integrity.

And tonight the President of the United States said good!

I have been sitting with that word for hours now. Good. One syllable. The thing you say when the coffee is hot or the traffic is moving. The thing a man who has never had to bury anyone, never had to sit in the specific silence of a room where someone is newly absent, reaches for when he wants the world to know he is satisfied. Good. The daughters are crying and the wife is alone in the house and good.

I want to speak directly to the Americans reading this. Not the political Americans. Just the human ones. The ones who have lost a father. The ones who know what it is to be in that first hour, when you keep forgetting and then remembering again, when ordinary objects become unbearable, when the world outside the window seems obscene in its indifference. I want to ask you, simply, to hold that feeling for a moment, and then to understand that the man you elected looked at it and typed a single word.

Good.

This is not a country having a bad day. I need you to understand that. Countries have bad days. Elections go wrong. Leaders disappoint. Institutions bend. But there is a different thing, a rarer and more terrible thing, that happens when the moral center of a place simply gives way. Not dramatically. Not with a single catastrophic event. But quietly, in increments, until one evening a president celebrates the death of an old man whose family is still warm with grief, and enough people find it acceptable that it becomes the weather. Just the weather.

That is what is happening. That is what has happened.

The world knows. From Tokyo to Oslo, from London to Buenos Aires, people are not angry at America tonight. Anger would mean there was still something to fight for, some remaining faith to be betrayed. What I see, in the reactions from everywhere that is not here, is something older and sadder than anger. It is the look people get when they have waited a long time for someone they love to find their way back, and have finally understood that they are not coming.

America is being grieved. Past tense, almost. The idea of it. The thing it represented to people who had nothing else to believe in, who came here with everything they owned in a single bag because they had heard, somehow, across an ocean, that this was the place where decency was written into the walls. That idea is not resting. It is not suspended. It is being buried, in real time, with 7,450 likes before dinner.

And the church said nothing.

Seventy million people have decided that this man, this specific man who has cheated everyone he has ever made a promise to, who has mocked the disabled and the dead and the grieving, who celebrated tonight while a family wept, is an instrument of God. The pastors who made that bargain did not just trade away their credibility. They traded away the thing that made them worth listening to in the first place. The cross they carry now is a costume. The faith they preach is a loyalty oath with scripture attached. When the history of American Christianity is written, this will be the chapter they skip at seminary.

Now I want to talk about the men who stand next to him.

Because this is the part that actually breaks my heart.

JD Vance is not a bad man. I have to say that, because it is true, and because the truth matters even now, especially now. Marco Rubio is not a bad man. Lindsey Graham is not a bad man. They are idiots, but not bad, as in BAD! These are men with mothers who raised them and children who love them and friends who remember who they were before all of this. They are not monsters. Monsters are simple. Monsters do not cost you anything emotionally because there is nothing in them to mourn.

These men are something more painful than monsters.

They are men who knew better, and know better still, and will get up tomorrow and do it again.

Every small compromise they made had a reason. Every moment they looked the other way had a justification that sounded, at the time, almost reasonable. And now they have arrived here, at a place where a president celebrates the death of an old man and they will find a way, on television, to say nothing that means anything, and they will go home to houses where children who carry their name are waiting, and they will say goodnight, and they will say nothing.

Their oldest friends are watching. The ones who knew Rubio when he still believed in something. Who knew Graham when he said, out loud, on the record, that this exact man would destroy the Republican Party and deserve it. Who sat next to Vance and thought here is someone worth knowing. Those friends are not angry tonight. They moved through anger a long time ago. What they feel now is the quiet, irrecoverable sadness of watching someone disappear while still being present. Of watching a person they loved choose, again and again, to become less.

That is what cowardice costs. Not the coward. The people who loved him.

And in the comments tonight, the followers celebrate. People who ten years ago brought casseroles to grieving neighbours. Who stood in the rain at gravesides and meant the words they said. Who told their children that we do not speak ill of the dead because the dead were someone's beloved. Those people are tonight typing gleeful things about a man whose daughters are not yet done crying. And they feel clean doing it. Righteous. Because somewhere along the way the thing they were given in exchange for their decency was the feeling of belonging to something, and that feeling is very hard to give up even when you can no longer remember what you gave for it.

When Trump is gone, they will still be here.

Standing in the silence where the noise used to be. Without the permission the crowd gave them. Without the pastor who told them their cruelty was holy. They will be alone with what they said and what they cheered and what they chose to become, and there will be no one left to tell them it was righteous.

That morning is coming.

Robert Mueller flew across the Pacific on military leave to hold his newborn daughter for a few hours before returning to the war. He came home. He buried his dead with honour. He served presidents of both parties because he understood that the institution was larger than any one man. He told his grandchildren that a lie is the worst thing a person can do, that a reputation once lost cannot be recovered, and he lived that, every day, in the quiet and unglamorous way of people who actually believe what they say.

He was the kind of American the world used to point to when it needed to believe the story was true.

He died last night. His wife is alone in their house in Georgetown. His daughters are learning what the world is without him in it. And somewhere in the particular hush that falls over a family in the first hours of loss, the most powerful man and the biggest loser on earth sent a message to say he was glad.

The world that loved what America was supposed to be is grieving tonight. Not for Robert Mueller only. For the country that produced him and then became this. For the distance between what was promised and what was delivered. For the suspicion, growing quieter and more certain with each passing month, that the America people believed in was always partly a story, and the story is over now, and there is nothing yet to replace it.

That is all it needed to be.

A man died. His family is broken open with grief.

That is all it needed to be.

Instead the President said good.

And the country that once stood for something looked away 🇺🇸

Gandalv / @Microinteracti1

[Evansville Women's Basketball @UEAthletics_WBB]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐮𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐭...

If you've enjoyed watching our team for the past few days or have followed us all year, we invite you to get involved with our program and help us continue to build!

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[Evansville Women's Basketball @UEAthletics_WBB]

Congratulations to 2026 signee Casey O’Connell on helping Miami Country Day take home the FHSAA Class 2A state championship!

#ForTheAces x #PlayToWin

[Terry McAulay @tjmcaulay]

An even better angle. As I said, simply inexcusable that targeting wasn't called on the field or created by Replay.

[Barstool Sports @barstoolsports]

This is what it feels like to be the top of the college football world

[Tony Castricone @Castricone]

A 2-star QB scrambling for potentially the national-championship-winning touchdown on 4th down in his hometown against his hometown team after winning the Heisman for the most losing program of all time while his mother with MS screams for joy from her seat is possibly the limit of how good sports can get

[MLFootball @MLFootball]

🚨🚨HEARTWARMING🚨🚨

Indiana star quarterback Fernando Mendoza’s father NEVER STANDS to celebrate because his wife is unable to stand.

Mendoza’s mother has Multiple Sclerosis (MS) and is wheelchair bound.

This video is beautiful to watch.

🥹🥹🥹https://t.co/uJNmxn7EsE

[Shannon O’Connell @oconnellclan]

@Verizon outage again??

[Lauren Cantor @lbyslam]

@Verizon any idea when service will be restored to Miami? #verizonoutage

[Shannon O’Connell @oconnellclan]

@VerizonNews Can’t get a hold of kids, need maps due to traveling. This is insane. No service since noon. Got a hotel for the night for wifi. I pay way too much for this to happen

[CathVSConf☘️ @CathVSConf]

They laughed at him when he was little. They said he was different.
But tonight, under the bright lights of the Heisman stage, the world sees what those kids never could: GREATNESS.

Jeremiyah Love, the Doak Walker Award winner, the best running back in College Football, stands as proof that resilience beats ridicule, and heart conquers doubt.

This may be his last season, but his legacy will echo forever—because the boy they mocked became the man they’ll never forget.

Who's laughing now?

🎵 More Than A Hobby - LG Malique
📸 @ISDUpdate

[Downdetector @downdetector]

User reports indicate problems with Verizon since 1:43 PM EDT. https://t.co/JkjQqjf7Y6 RT if you're also having problems #Verizondown

[Shannon O’Connell @oconnellclan]

@MacStev3nson Oh hell nah

[Shannon O’Connell @oconnellclan]

Thank you for the memories @caseyoconnell33 ❤️

[Casey O’Connell @caseyoconnell33]

Enjoying these last few days of AAU. Trying to take it all in before it comes to an end.

[Casey O’Connell @caseyoconnell33]

Last go round @PGHFlorida @SUTSReport @SAthletesLBB @Suns_Gold @Elite40League