Mike McGuire

Justice Alito confirms he is considering retirement politi.co/3TjSV2d

Newsom tells @jaketapper he won’t run in 2028 if Kamala Harris runs.

Ohio State blows a 20-point fourth-quarter lead and suffers a 24-23 loss at Texas in a historic collapse. elevenwarriors.com/ohio-stat…

THE SOUTH TOWER OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTER HAS COMPLETELY COLLAPSED. The entire building, all 110 floors, has pancaked into the ground. Massive clouds of pulverized concrete and gypsum rush through the streets, covering tens of thousands of people in dust and obscuring Lower Manhattan altogether. Father Mychal Judge, chaplain to the FDNY, is struck by fallen debris and dies instantly. He is the first confirmed and identified death today, but there must be tens of thousands of dead.

This is very personal for me to share. My biological mother was a stripper working at a club in downtown Seattle. My biological father was one of her clients. She became pregnant with me while struggling with addiction and used drugs throughout her pregnancy. When I was born, I was immediately taken to the ICU to detox and was eventually placed for adoption. By God’s grace, I was adopted by two wonderful parents who loved me deeply. I was four months old when they picked me up from the orphanage, and they are the only parents I’ve ever known. I never grew up feeling like something was missing. I never felt some deep longing to find my biological parents. I had a mom and dad who loved me, cared for me, sacrificed for me, and gave me a wonderful home. Years later, after I got married and we had our first child, my wife encouraged me to learn more about my biological history. If for no other reason, she thought it might be good for the sake of our daughter to know whether there was anything medically or genetically significant in my family history. So I eventually submitted my DNA to Ancestry. Through that, I discovered a half brother, aunts, cousins, and eventually was put in contact with my biological mother. We were able to meet. And when I met her, I got to tell her something I’d wanted to tell her for as long as I could remember: thank you. Thank you for giving me life. I got to tell her about the wonderful parents who adopted me. I got to tell her that I’d had a good life. I got to tell her about my wife and my children. I wanted her to know that the baby she carried in the middle of all that chaos became a man with a family, a calling, people he loves, people who love him, and a life for which he is profoundly grateful. I’ve never been angry with her. Never. Not once. For years I told my wife and children that if my biological mother ever found me, I knew exactly what I would say. I wouldn’t condemn her. I wouldn’t demand explanations. I’d simply thank her for allowing me to live. Because without that decision, I wouldn’t have the extraordinary wife I have today. I wouldn’t know the indescribable joy of my children. I wouldn’t have experienced the friendships, ministry, laughter, sorrow, beauty, failures, victories, and ordinary moments that have made up my life. There are people I love who wouldn’t know me, children who wouldn’t exist, and a story that never would’ve been written. She gave me the chance to live it. We still stay in contact. We speak every few months, and I genuinely enjoy hearing her stories and learning about her life. Since the day I met her, I’ve prayed that the Lord would bring her to Himself. I still pray that. I share all of this because lately I’ve been thinking a great deal about the choices parents make. About life and death. About how much hangs in the balance of decisions made in moments of fear, desperation, darkness, or confusion. And yes, I’ve been thinking about those three little children whose lives were taken by the very person entrusted with protecting them. It’s difficult for me not to think about my own story alongside theirs. Their lives mattered. Their futures mattered. Everything they might’ve become, everyone they might’ve loved, every ordinary Tuesday morning and Christmas morning and wedding and child and friendship that might’ve filled the decades ahead of them mattered. And it makes me profoundly grateful that my mother chose differently. So if there’s a mother or father reading this who’s in a dark place and wondering whether your presence matters, whether your decisions matter, or whether the people who depend on you would somehow be better off without you, please hear me: your choices matter more than you can see from where you’re standing. Choose life. Don’t make an irreversible decision in the middle of a season that will pass. Don’t allow a moment of darkness to make a permanent decision about a future you can’t yet see. Trust the Lord. Ask for help.

Drafts community, I have some not fun news to share. Right after kickoff on Wednesday, we will be shutting down Drafts in seven states: MA, MD, MI, MS, NJ, PA and OH. Already entered drafts will continue as normal, but in those states you won’t be able to enter new drafts. If you’re a drafter in one of those states, I’m really sorry. This sucks, but I want to explain why. Those states have taken a legal viewpoint we disagree with: if we offer our CFTC-licensed products we cannot offer fantasy sports in those states. So we had to choose. We could keep our fantasy licenses in those states, or surrender the licenses and offer effectively our full experience, minus Drafts. It sucks. I love Drafts. It was the first game we ever launched and a big part of what built Underdog. Even though they don’t get anywhere near the usage of our other offerings, we still care deeply about them. And it pains me that we can’t do right by the Drafts community and offer the best experience possible to the most customers. We have some ideas about how to get Drafts back to more customers, but it’s too early to commit to anything yet. I’m optimistic, and we’re definitely going to try. But until then, I don’t think there’s really anything I can say other than I’m sorry.

Big takeaway from today: Jadarian Price & KC Concepcion are going to be great in the NFL. 🚀🌖 #NFLCombine