todddrake

Husband to Kendrae - Father to Kanon and Everton -

[todddrake @todddrake]

Otra Dia. Otra Adventura. #liveadventurous

[todddrake @todddrake]

The 90s and 00s Astros had the Killer Bs (Biggio, Bagwell, Berkman). Very cool to see the @Cardinals have their Triple W (Winn, Walker, Weatherholt). I really hope this is the start of a new era of big time St Louis Cardinals baseball.

[todddrake @todddrake]

@AugieNash 11 was way too magical. Best World Series ever!

[todddrake @todddrake]

I will never root for the Spurs in any situation. Been a good person, Mavs fan, and now a fan of the team from my home state for too long to even consider that franchise worthy of my support. However, I will not be looking forward to rooting for the Knicks.

[todddrake @todddrake]

Castle is such a hot head. His teammates keep bailing out his weak emotional outbursts from making it way worse. Come on dude. It’s big boy basketball, toughen up. Stop whining during every time someone comes near you.

[todddrake @todddrake]

Both thunder centers ain’t him.

[todddrake @todddrake]

Chet ain’t him

[todddrake @todddrake]

Reggie… not a pump fake. It was a travel. Dude knows ball like the hall of famer he is.

[todddrake @todddrake]

Reggie Miller…. It’s a push off. Not separation. @spurs play such unethical hoops.

[todddrake @todddrake]

Maybe Dort shooting isn’t the game plan to go with

[todddrake @todddrake]

Also when the thunder needed Wiggins and Joe, they did not show up. Might need to move off them this offseason after we will the title next month.

[todddrake @todddrake]

Wemby’s made for TV crying after game 3 and the bike work this quarter feels so inauthentic. He’s trying to be something he’s not. Spurs are dumb.

[todddrake @todddrake]

I am in awe that Wemby talks to his coach during games. It’s never happened to any player before, much less a super star. I mean the leadership quality it takes to speak to his head coach. Amazing. Impressive. I’m inspired. #WCF

[todddrake @todddrake]

The whiney approach Austin Reaves and LeBron take is way less watchable and more unethical than what the thunder do. Man up and play your child’s game @Lakers

[todddrake @todddrake]

Wow! I was 12 years old. Walked into class and saw the footage and thought it was some big far away place, not my backyard. Oklahoma is strong and resilient and I’m immeasurably proud to be from here. Thank you @EnesFreedom for these words and your play on the court.

[Enes Kanter FREEDOM @EnesFreedom]

To my Oklahoma family;
this piece comes straight from the heart.

I hope you’ll take a moment to read it and feel what I felt.
Thank you for allowing me to be a small part of it.

I came to @okcthunder to play basketball. I left carrying 168 lives.

When I was traded to the Oklahoma City Thunder, I was thinking about basketball, nothing more.

I didn’t know that before I ever stepped on the court, this place would show me something that would stay with me far longer than any game.

Like any player, my mind was on the game. A new team, a new city, a new opportunity. I expected the usual routine when I landed in Oklahoma City. Physicals, practices, meetings, and a jersey waiting in a locker.

But before any of that, Sam Presti pulled me aside and told me there was somewhere we needed to go.

He didn’t explain much, and I didn’t think to ask. I was focused on the next step in my career.

What I didn’t understand was that, before I could represent the place I was about to play for, I needed to understand it.

So instead of heading to the facility, he took me to the Oklahoma City National Memorial & Museum.

I walked in without knowing what I was about to see, and within minutes, everything slowed down.

There are 168 chairs at the memorial, each one representing a life lost on April 19, 1995. They are arranged in quiet rows, each engraved with a name, each standing where a person once stood in that building. Then you notice something that is impossible to process the first time you see it. Some of the chairs are smaller.

They belong to children.

There is no speech that prepares you for that, no headline that captures it. You simply stand there, and the silence carries a kind of weight that is hard to describe but impossible to ignore.

As you walk through the memorial, you pass between two gates marked 9:01 and 9:03. At first, they seem like simple numbers, but then you understand what they hold. One marks the last minute before the attack. The other marks the first minute after. And in between those two gates is 9:02, the moment when everything changed.

That minute does not feel like history when you are standing there. It feels present.

The reflecting pool stretches across what used to be a city street, its surface calm and still. When you look into it, you do not just see water. You see yourself standing in a place where unimaginable loss occurred, and for a moment, everything else in your life becomes quieter.

Nearby stands the Survivor Tree, an American elm that was damaged in the blast but endured. It is not untouched. Its scars are part of what it represents. But it is still standing, and in that, it carries a kind of strength that does not need to be explained.

We did not speak much while we were inside. It did not feel like a place for conversation. Some places ask for words. This one asks for reflection.

When we stepped outside, Sam Presti looked me in the eye and said, “This is what this state has been through.”

Then he said something I will never forget.

“Every time you step on that court, you are not just playing in front of fans. You are playing for a state that carries this with it. Give them everything you have. They deserve that.”

In that moment, basketball felt different.

Not smaller, but clearer.

Because what I had just seen was not only about what was lost. It was about what remained. A state that had experienced unimaginable pain and still chose to come together, to rebuild, and to move forward without losing its humanity.

From that day on, every time I stepped on the court, I carried that with me.

On the nights when I was tired, when I was hurt, when I was dealing with challenges that felt heavy in the moment, I would think about those chairs, about that minute, about the people behind those names. And I was reminded that what I was going through did not compare to what this state had endured.
https://t.co/XfNLliRVaO

[Enes Kanter FREEDOM @EnesFreedom]

To my Oklahoma family;
this piece comes straight from the heart.

I hope you’ll take a moment to read it and feel what I felt.
Thank you for allowing me to be a small part of it.

I came to @okcthunder to play basketball. I left carrying 168 lives.

When I was traded to the Oklahoma City Thunder, I was thinking about basketball, nothing more.

I didn’t know that before I ever stepped on the court, this place would show me something that would stay with me far longer than any game.

Like any player, my mind was on the game. A new team, a new city, a new opportunity. I expected the usual routine when I landed in Oklahoma City. Physicals, practices, meetings, and a jersey waiting in a locker.

But before any of that, Sam Presti pulled me aside and told me there was somewhere we needed to go.

He didn’t explain much, and I didn’t think to ask. I was focused on the next step in my career.

What I didn’t understand was that, before I could represent the place I was about to play for, I needed to understand it.

So instead of heading to the facility, he took me to the Oklahoma City National Memorial & Museum.

I walked in without knowing what I was about to see, and within minutes, everything slowed down.

There are 168 chairs at the memorial, each one representing a life lost on April 19, 1995. They are arranged in quiet rows, each engraved with a name, each standing where a person once stood in that building. Then you notice something that is impossible to process the first time you see it. Some of the chairs are smaller.

They belong to children.

There is no speech that prepares you for that, no headline that captures it. You simply stand there, and the silence carries a kind of weight that is hard to describe but impossible to ignore.

As you walk through the memorial, you pass between two gates marked 9:01 and 9:03. At first, they seem like simple numbers, but then you understand what they hold. One marks the last minute before the attack. The other marks the first minute after. And in between those two gates is 9:02, the moment when everything changed.

That minute does not feel like history when you are standing there. It feels present.

The reflecting pool stretches across what used to be a city street, its surface calm and still. When you look into it, you do not just see water. You see yourself standing in a place where unimaginable loss occurred, and for a moment, everything else in your life becomes quieter.

Nearby stands the Survivor Tree, an American elm that was damaged in the blast but endured. It is not untouched. Its scars are part of what it represents. But it is still standing, and in that, it carries a kind of strength that does not need to be explained.

We did not speak much while we were inside. It did not feel like a place for conversation. Some places ask for words. This one asks for reflection.

When we stepped outside, Sam Presti looked me in the eye and said, “This is what this state has been through.”

Then he said something I will never forget.

“Every time you step on that court, you are not just playing in front of fans. You are playing for a state that carries this with it. Give them everything you have. They deserve that.”

In that moment, basketball felt different.

Not smaller, but clearer.

Because what I had just seen was not only about what was lost. It was about what remained. A state that had experienced unimaginable pain and still chose to come together, to rebuild, and to move forward without losing its humanity.

From that day on, every time I stepped on the court, I carried that with me.

On the nights when I was tired, when I was hurt, when I was dealing with challenges that felt heavy in the moment, I would think about those chairs, about that minute, about the people behind those names. And I was reminded that what I was going through did not compare to what this state had endured.
https://t.co/XfNLliRVaO

[todddrake @todddrake]

@KREFsports Chip Glass! 1994 National Champion!

[todddrake @todddrake]

Seen enough of Svanson to last a lifetime and it’s only game 2. #stlcards

[todddrake @todddrake]

I miss @Broncos football.

[todddrake @todddrake]

Stidham did not earn himself a starting job with this performance today. Bummed. Gutted. Stupid broken ankles. Terrible weather. Just needed a little help. Denver D was awesome. Weirdest and dumbest fumble by Stidham in the first half.

[todddrake @todddrake]

Thanks @BoNix10 for a great season! #BroncosCountry will do our part to support Stidham and the team in your absence. Let’s go win this thing!