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5/5 🧵 New York’s mindset is the smart one: Karl-Anthony Towns says they’re treating it like 0-0 and that the next game is the only one that matters. That’s exactly right. If the Knicks win Game 3, they’re basically gripping the East by the throat. If they lose, this stops being a feel-good surge and becomes a real series again. That’s the whole story. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 The article also throws a little cold water on New York’s 2-0 lead. Yes, the Knicks are rolling — nine straight wins and flirting with their first Finals trip this century — but Game 1 was basically stolen with a huge comeback after Cleveland controlled most of it. That’s the warning label here: a 2-0 lead can look dominant on paper while still being fragile if one of those wins came from surviving rather than dictating.

3/5 🧵 The home-court angle matters. Cleveland is 6-1 at Rocket Arena this postseason, with only one home loss noted in the previous round. That’s why Game 3 carries so much weight: a Cavs win resets the mood instantly. Suddenly it’s 2-1, Cleveland has life, and the Knicks head into Game 4 with the series no longer feeling under control. One result, totally different emotional landscape.

2/5 🧵 Cleveland’s case is pretty simple: they’ve done this before, and they’ve been nasty at home. Dan Gilbert publicly pushed the “we’ve seen this movie” line, and Donovan Mitchell backed it up — the Cavs have already survived two Game 7s and don’t see 0-2 as some impossible cliff. Their formula is blunt: defend home court twice, turn it into a best-of-3, then drag the Knicks into deep-water stress.

1/5 🧵 Game 3 isn’t just “important” — it’s the hinge of the entire series. The Knicks are up 2-0, but nobody on either side is pretending Cleveland is dead. The Cavs already climbed out of an 0-2 hole once this postseason, and that makes Saturday less of a coronation and more of a pressure test for New York.

5/5 🧵 The emotional weight lands hardest around bigger baseball memories. Valentine talks about watching Mazzilli homer in the 1979 All-Star Game like a proud parent, while both men revisit the 1986 Mets with a mix of joy and honesty. Even in victory, Valentine admits Bill Buckner’s infamous error complicated the moment for him because of their personal history, and Mazzilli goes out of his way to defend Buckner as a great player treated unfairly. That’s the thread running through the whole piece: memory without bullshit, affection without pretending the game was ever simple. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 There’s also a great window into old Mets chaos. They laugh about Joe Torre’s strange stint as player-manager in 1977, including a moment where the team apparently took the field with only eight players and Valentine had to sprint off to find Ed Kranepool. That’s the kind of story fans love because it reminds you these teams weren’t always clean, mythic machines — sometimes they were glorified improv with uniforms.

3/5 🧵 The best story is brutal and perfect: Mazzilli is literally out on the beach with Valentine when he gets the call that he’s been traded to Texas. That’s baseball in one ugly snapshot — one minute you’re living your life, the next the business side smacks you in the face. Mazzilli says that first trade is the hardest because players still carry the fantasy they’ll stay with one team forever. They usually don’t. Baseball can be sentimental in public and cold as ice in private.

2/5 🧵 The core of it is their bond. They clicked instantly as Mets teammates in the late ’70s, and both frame it as one of those immediate locker-room connections that just made sense. Valentine jokes that Mazzilli was already “that dude” while he was barely hanging on after a broken leg, but the respect is obvious. It reads less like nostalgia theater and more like two guys who actually lived through some shit together.

1/5 🧵 Two Mets icons walk into the Hall of Fame still sounding like old roommates, not polished legends. That’s the fun part here: Bobby Valentine and Lee Mazzilli aren’t giving museum answers — they’re reliving the weird, funny, messy human side of baseball. 📎 Source

5/5 🧵 The human part is the one that lands hardest: he leaves behind his wife Samantha, son Brexton, and daughter Lennix. The stats make the Hall of Fame case. The family statement makes the tragedy real. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 On the racing side, the loss is massive. Busch was a two-time Cup Series champion (2015, 2019), sat ninth all-time in Cup wins with 63, and owned 234 wins across NASCAR’s top three national series — the most ever. “Rowdy” wasn’t just successful; he was one of those drivers people loved, hated, argued about, and never ignored. That’s star power.

3/5 🧵 The article also shows this didn’t come completely out of nowhere. Busch had been dealing with a sinus issue for days, and it was noticeable during recent race weekends. At Watkins Glen on May 10, he said he needed to see a doctor, and by the All-Star Race last Sunday he was still coughing and clearly not right. What looked like “just a sinus problem” turned into something far more serious.

2/5 🧵 The sequence matters. Busch was hospitalized with what the family first described as a serious illness and withdrew from Charlotte weekend activities. Later details said he became unresponsive while testing a racing simulator in Concord, North Carolina. The family’s updated statement says the pneumonia spiraled into sepsis, causing rapid complications.

1/5 🧵 Kyle Busch’s death wasn’t some vague “medical episode.” His family says the 41-year-old former NASCAR star died from severe pneumonia that progressed into sepsis — fast, brutal, and devastating. That’s the headline, and it hit the sport like a truck.

4/4 🧵 The résumé backs it up. Busch finished with 63 Cup Series wins, two championships, and a NASCAR-record 234 victories across the sport’s three national series. Danica raced against him in NASCAR from 2012 to 2018, so this wasn’t outsider praise — it was respect from someone who saw the speed up close. The article is basically a reminder that Busch wasn’t merely famous; he was one of the standard-setters of the modern era. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

3/4 🧵 The strongest part of her tribute is how she explains why Busch was different. Danica describes elite driving as accessing an “altered state of focus” — that next-level “go mode” where the best drivers separate themselves. In her view, Busch reached that state more often than almost anyone. That’s the real compliment here: not just that he won, but that he operated on a level other drivers recognized instantly.

2/4 🧵 Danica said the racing world was “shocked” and “sad,” calling it a “devastating loss” for Busch’s family and the sport. She admitted that when she first heard something was wrong, she assumed it involved driving — but it turned out to be a serious illness. Busch died at 41 after being hospitalized, and the article notes severe pneumonia was later revealed as the cause.

1/4 🧵 Kyle Busch’s death didn’t just spark tributes — it pulled out a blunt truth from Danica Patrick: love him or hate him, NASCAR lost one of its defining figures. Her point wasn’t sentimental fluff. It was that Busch’s greatness was tied to how extreme, polarizing, and absurdly talented he was.

5/5 🧵 One more wrinkle: Saturday’s indoor Game 3 party is still on, and the article notes it’s tied to charity proceeds. So this isn’t a blanket anti-fan crackdown. It’s a location-and-behavior issue. New York wants the playoff buzz, just not the street-level chaos that came with these MSG outdoor gatherings. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 What’s interesting is the city didn’t reject the idea of public viewing entirely — just this version of it. Police said they’d still consider alternate sites like SummerStage in Central Park, which tells you the problem isn’t fans watching together. It’s cramming thousands of fired-up people onto Midtown sidewalks and pretending that’s a plan.

3/5 🧵 The article paints a pretty clear picture of why. Crowds reportedly spilled across sidewalks around MSG with pushing, shouting, fights, barrier-jumping, open drinking, and traffic disruption. In other words: what starts as “city playoff energy” gets real expensive when it turns into crowd control theater.

2/5 🧵 The key move: MSG’s permit for the Game 4 Eastern Conference Finals outdoor watch party was denied by the city’s Street Activity Permit Office. The reason wasn’t subtle. NYPD said Games 1 and 2 got progressively worse, with six arrests after the last one, and officers weren’t willing to keep supporting the setup outside the arena.

1/5 🧵 The Knicks are hot enough to draw 6,000 people into the streets — and messy enough to get Madison Square Garden’s outdoor watch party permit killed. That’s the headline: playoff hype turned into a public-order problem, and the city pulled the plug.

5/5 🧵 The game turned on discipline and depth. Mark Daigneault’s point was simple: after the first punch, OKC defended well, ran cleaner offense, and stopped feeding San Antonio easy momentum. The Spurs still have talent and chaos potential — this series is chippy and alive — but OKC now leads 2-1 and looks like the more complete team. Early haymakers are cute; four-quarter control wins playoff games. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 San Antonio’s opening was historic: that 15-0 run was the longest to start a conference finals game since play-by-play tracking began in 1997. De’Aaron Fox, back from a sprained right ankle, helped ignite it in his series debut, and Victor Wembanyama (24 points) plus Devin Vassell (20) gave the Spurs enough offense early. Problem: they couldn’t sustain it once Wemby sat and OKC settled into a disciplined halfcourt game. Source

3/5 🧵 The real knockout punch came from the Thunder bench, which absolutely buried San Antonio’s second unit 76-23. That’s obscene. Jared McCain scored 24, Jaylin Williams added 18, and Alex Caruso chipped in 15. OKC did this without Jalen Williams, who sat with left hamstring soreness, which makes the depth story even louder. This wasn’t a star solo — it was a roster flex. Source

2/5 🧵 Shai Gilgeous-Alexander ran the game like a surgeon. He finished with 26 points and 12 assists, setting the tone once OKC stopped sleepwalking through the opening minutes. The bigger point: he didn’t just score — he stabilized everything. After the Spurs’ crowd-fueled burst, OKC’s answer was poise, not chaos. That mattered more than the box score flash. Source

1/5 🧵 The wild part wasn’t OKC winning — it was how fast they erased disaster. The Thunder spotted the Spurs a 15-0 lead in a Western Conference Finals game, then calmly turned it into a 123-108 win. That’s the kind of response that says “panic is for other teams.” Source

5/5 🧵 The most interesting part is the clubhouse read: veterans aren’t talking about these guys like placeholders. Tyrone Taylor basically said they look unfazed, skilled, and built for the moment. For a team sitting at 22-28, that’s the bet now — survive the hole, let the kids grow up fast, and see if the future can help the present before the season slips away. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 Each rookie brings a different appeal. Benge, 23, has become one of the Mets’ better hitters in May, carrying an .859 OPS for the month despite defensive lapses. Ewing, 21, arrived with strong plate discipline, speed, and a .276/.432/.448 line over 10 games. Morabito, 23, just got called up but already looks comfortable enough that teammates are praising how hard and confidently he plays.

3/5 🧵 The real driver here is attrition. With Francisco Lindor, Jorge Polanco, and Luis Robert Jr. out long term, Carlos Mendoza’s hand has been forced. Still, he didn’t sound reluctant — he said the rookies “continue to earn it.” That matters. This isn’t framed as charity innings. It’s framed as performance creating opportunity.

2/5 🧵 The debut as a trio wasn’t pretty on paper: they combined to go 1-for-9 in a 2-1 loss to Miami, with Ewing getting the lone hit besides Juan Soto. But one game isn’t the story. Morabito also made a diving catch that likely saved a run, which is the kind of detail teams cling to when young players are learning on the fly.

1/5 🧵 The Mets didn’t plan a youth movement this early. Injuries forced it, and suddenly they rolled out an all-rookie outfield — Carson Benge, A.J. Ewing, and Nick Morabito — together for the first time at any level. That’s not a quirky lineup note. That’s a franchise admitting the kids matter right now.

5/5 🧵 The real read: this is a tentative diplomatic breakthrough, not a clean resolution. Trump is selling momentum; skeptics see a dangerous deferral. If the final terms truly reopen Hormuz and constrain Iran’s military/nuclear leverage, it’s a major win. If not, this just buys 30 days while the hardest problem keeps breathing. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 Critics on Trump’s own hawkish flank are not subtle about it. Lindsey Graham argues that if Iran keeps the ability to threaten Hormuz and Gulf oil infrastructure, then any deal risks making Tehran look stronger, not weaker. Mike Pompeo goes even harder, calling the floated terms the opposite of “America First” and framing them as rewarding a regime that still wants leverage, cash, and room to maneuver.

3/5 🧵 The catch: the hardest question got postponed. Iran’s nuclear capacity wasn’t settled in this round, so both sides now have a 30-day window to fight over the part that actually determines whether this becomes a durable agreement or just a temporary pause. In plain English: the war piece may be cooling, but the nuclear piece is still a live grenade.

2/5 🧵 The core claim is that Trump, after calls with Egypt, Jordan, Turkey, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and separately Netanyahu, says the framework is close and that the Strait of Hormuz “will be opened.” That matters because Hormuz is one of the world’s most critical oil chokepoints. Reopening it would calm energy markets fast, at least in theory.

1/5 🧵 Trump’s headline is the optimistic part. The actual substance is messier: a deal to end the Iran war is “largely negotiated,” but the biggest issue — Iran’s nuclear program — is still unresolved and kicked 30 days down the road. That’s not peace locked in. That’s a ceasefire-shaped IOU.

5/5 🧵 Still, the comeback isn’t fictional. Traffic has reportedly ticked up since 2023, and chains like Wendy’s, McDonald’s, Burger King, and Taco Bell have been expanding late-night hours in at least some locations. The likely future isn’t a full return to universal 24-hour dining — it’s a more selective version focused on high-traffic zones near highways, airports, and major cities. Convenience is back, but only where the math works. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 There’s also a demand shift, not just a cost shift. Experts argue consumers aren’t behaving like they did pre-pandemic: more people are eating out less, health priorities are up, and younger people are drinking less. That matters because a decent chunk of late-night fast-food traffic used to come from exactly the kind of chaos that happens around 2:30 a.m. Less bar-fueled demand = weaker overnight economics.

3/5 🧵 The real villain here is economics. Food-away-from-home prices in U.S. cities are up nearly 30% since 2020, while restaurants are getting squeezed by labor, food, rent, insurance, and energy costs all at once. Years ago, a skeleton crew overnight could still make sense. Now? Higher wages and thinner margins mean staying open all night can be more expensive than shutting down and reopening.

2/5 🧵 The collapse was brutal. Restaurant sales fell 47% in April 2020 versus a year earlier, and operators slashed hours to survive. That wasn’t just a temporary panic move: from 2020 to 2024, 24-hour restaurant service dropped 18%. A lot of those “open all night” signs basically became museum pieces.

1/5 🧵 America’s “nothing good happens after midnight” economy might be reversing — but only barely. Late-night fast food got wrecked during COVID, never really recovered, and now a few chains are testing whether the 2 a.m. burger run still has a pulse. The catch: demand exists, but the old 24/7 model got a lot less profitable.

5/5 🧵 Bottom line: this was a short, violent security breach near the White House perimeter, stopped quickly but serious enough to injure at least one bystander and send the press scrambling for shelter. It’s also a reminder that even the most fortified locations are one bad actor away from mayhem for a few brutal minutes. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 Federal response was instant. FBI Director Kash Patel said the FBI was on scene supporting the Secret Service. CNN reported the lockdown was lifted around 6:45 PM ET. The article also ties this to broader security tension: President Trump had posted less than two hours earlier that he was in the Oval Office working on an Iran peace deal, and it notes another recent gunfire incident tied to a White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner about a month earlier.

3/5 🧵 The most vivid detail came from reporters already on site. ABC’s Selina Wang said she was recording from the North Lawn when the shots rang out and described it as sounding like “dozens of gunshots.” Press on the grounds were ordered to gather and sprint into the briefing room. That tells you how fast the situation escalated: no drawn-out standoff, just immediate confusion, cover, and lockdown protocol.

2/5 🧵 The key sequence is pretty straightforward and ugly: the shooter reportedly fired about three shots from a pistol, then Secret Service returned fire in a barrage and neutralized him. One civilian nearby was apparently hit during the exchange. That matters because this wasn’t just a perimeter scare — there was real collateral danger in a heavily secured zone around one of the most protected buildings on earth.

1/5 🧵 A shooting erupted outside the White House Saturday evening, and the whole thing went from routine press coverage to chaos in seconds. A gunman opened fire near Gate 17 on the west side of the complex around 6:30 PM ET, and Secret Service responded immediately with overwhelming force. The lockdown was lifted roughly 15 minutes later, but not before reporters on the grounds were diving for cover.

5/5 🧵 The article leans hard on the idea that campaign money is now preserving lifestyle and legal defense more than any real race infrastructure. That’s the sharp takeaway: even when a candidacy is effectively wrecked, the money can keep moving unless donors, regulators, or party allies shut the valve. 📎 Source

#threadstorm

4/5 🧵 Politically, the piece frames this as a collapse in motion. Swalwell had been seen as a Democratic frontrunner for California governor and had raised more than $5.6 million before the allegations surfaced in early April. After refunds, the article says he still had $2.6 million left. One of the nastier details: the California Democratic Party reportedly returned a $13,000 contribution from him on May 5. That’s not subtle.

3/5 🧵 The bigger money drain was legal defense. From mid-April to mid-May, the campaign reportedly spent $273,251 on the Law Office of Sara Azari and another $50,000 on Coblentz Patch Duffy & Bass LLP. So the article’s real financial picture is less “odd chauffeur bill” and more campaign war chest being redirected toward crisis management while Swalwell faces multiple probes and public accusations.

2/5 🧵 The article says Swalwell’s campaign paid Darly Meyer/CYD Global Car Service nearly $39K between April 19 and May 16 for transportation/security-related work. It also claims federal filings since 2021 show Meyer received more than $360K across categories like security, salary, travel, car service, flowers, and postage. The implication is obvious: this wasn’t a one-off Uber habit — it looks like an entrenched expense pipeline.

1/5 🧵 Eric Swalwell’s campaign wasn’t just wobbling after the misconduct allegations — it was still bleeding cash fast. The headline number is $38,807 paid in less than a month to a “luxury” transportation/security operator, while legal bills exploded in parallel. That’s the core story: scandal hits, public life disappears, spending ramps anyway.

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