By Blake Chadwick
“You never believe that it will happen to you — until it happens.”
That quote has echoed in my heart over the past few days as I mourn the loss of one of my best friends, Todric McGee.
Todric wasn’t just a friend. He was a son, a leader, and, most importantly, my brother. From the day we met — relentlessly competing against each other as kids — there was always a bond that time or distance could never weaken. Whether we talked every day or not at all for a while, the love between us never changed. Our paths in life didn’t always align, but when you’re brothers, you’re in it for life.
“I met Tod in eighth grade,” Myles Reed said. “My first vivid memory of him was being disruptive and a class clown in our honors English class. My 13-year-old self thought, ‘man, this dude is insane, lowkey annoying, but also kinda funny.’”
Like many new kids, Reed faced the challenge of finding his place after moving from Louisiana to Wichita. But at Brooks Middle School, he found lifelong friends — and Todric was the first. Their friendship took off when they realized both of their parents were close with Wichita fitness trainer Renaire Palmer. From that moment on, they called each other cousins, and no one could tell them otherwise.
This was just one of the many ways Todric showed love. As he grew older, he became more than just the class clown. Those of us who had known him since little league — like Terrance Bert — saw his heart long before the world did.
“Todric was my little brother,” said Bert, who played football with Todric at Northwest. “We did everything together at one point — riding to school, hitting weights in the morning, staying up late playing video games. He was the shortest, toughest dude I knew and always ready for anything. That’s why we loved him.”
Their bond ran deep. Over time, Bert’s father, Ron, became a father figure to Todric — one of the few people, besides his mother Stephanie Pope, who could guide him. That’s how my family came to know him, too.
As a coach’s kid, you meet a lot of people — some come and go. I first met Todric at a track practice when my dad, Bryan Chadwick, was coaching his older sister, Tahlia Pope, at Wichita Heights.
All I knew then was that his sister was an amazing athlete. Her little brother? Well, he was wild. Todric was a short, bowling-ball of a kid with oversized shorts and shirts — and a larger-than-life personality.
Over time, we went from opponents to friends — almost as fast as when he trucked me in one of our early basketball games. He had this swagger on the court that was contagious. We fed off each other. Eventually, we became best friends when he joined my dad’s youth basketball team, the 2021 Ballerz.
That Ballerz team was something special. Starting in fifth grade, it was me, Todric and Terrance, coached by my dad and Ron Bert. We quickly became one of the top teams in the area — made up of kids no one else wanted. That’s when Todric met Roman Greenman and Ashtin Standifer. Even though they joined the 2021 Ballerz later, the love was immediate and real.
“Tod was more than a basketball teammate I happened to meet in fifth grade,” Greenman said. “He was family. Every time we got together, it just clicked — no drama, no egos. And when Tod was around, there was always laughter, no matter what.”
When Greenman’s dad, Josh, joined our coaching staff alongside my dad and Coach Ron, everything came together. These three incredible men helped shape us, becoming father figures — especially to Todric, who soaked in every lesson they taught.
As we all got older and life got busier, some things changed, but Todric’s dreams never did. From a young age, even when people didn’t believe in him, Tod would say, “I’m going to the league.”
That league changed — from NBA to NFL — but his belief in himself never wavered. And we never doubted him.
He went from being the short, no-neck-kid nicknamed “Turtle” to a strong, athletic young man by his sophomore year. He eventually focused more on football but would still lace up for basketball in the summers where I can still hear his mom yelling from the sidelines, “GET YOUR ELBOW UP AND MAKE SOME FREE THROWS!” or “BOY, GET UP!” after he hit the ground for the 15th time.
That was Todric — always giving 100%. Whether it was hitting a clutch three after missing eight straight or taking a charge (flop or not), he made game-changing plays because he never quit.
His dream of “making it to the league” is something I’ll carry with me forever. I’ll tell my kids about Uncle Todric and how he was going to make it — not just because he said it, but because we had seen the work, the talent and the heart.
Just months before he passed, we were planning a trip to see Missouri State take on USC on August 30, 2025. We knew he was going to ball out. He was built for it.
But God had a higher calling for him.
Now, as a family and brotherhood, we honor Todric by living out what he stood for — competing with heart, showing up for one another, and chasing our dreams with no fear. He lives on in each of us — the ones who grew up with him, battled alongside him and loved him unconditionally.
We know he’s upstairs, playing football with the best of them. It’s what he worked for his whole life. And it’s what he deserves.
Rest in power, brother. We love you.
