college

Eddie Martinez can’t stand Donald Trump. So when Eric Swalwell entered the race for California governor, Martinez had his candidate.

“I liked the way he took Trump on, the impeachment thing in Congress,” Martinez said of the former Bay Area congressman, a Trump nemesis who served as one of the House prosecutors in 2021 when Democrats held the wayward president to account for the second time.

Then, suddenly, Swalwell’s campaign collapsed under the weight of allegations of abuse, including charges he sexually assaulted a former aide. With Martinez’s choice out of the running, the Democrat turned to the candidate who’d been his second pick all along, Xavier Becerra.

Martinez has been familiar with Becerra for decades, going back to when the former congressman, state attorney general and Biden Cabinet member was in the state Assembly. To his credit, said the 65-year-old retired public relations strategist, Becerra has largely kept clear of controversy and there’s never been a whiff of personal scandal — an important consideration after Swalwell’s spectacular self-destruction.

On top of all that, Martinez said as he prepared to drop his mail ballot at a post office in Alhambra, it would be nice for California to elect its first Latino governor in modern times. It’s been, Martinez observed, more than 150 years.

With the gubernatorial primary entering its final two weeks, a contest that had been stubbornly formless has finally gained coherence. Becerra, who’d been widely given up for dead as he foundered near the bottom of polls, has unexpectedly emerged as the Democrat to beat.

“He has the most experience,” said Ruben Avita, a 57-year-old actor who leans Democratic and is tilting toward Becerra over hedge-fund billionaire Tom Steyer. “At this point,” Avita said as he waited to catch a double feature at a cineplex in Monterey Park, “I want someone with a proven track record.”

Among the Republicans running, Trump’s pick — conservative commentator Steve Hilton — seems firmly ensconced atop the GOP field.

“He’s got a lot more common-sense approach than any of these other idiots,” said Wayne The Flame — yes, he explained, that’s his legal name —which, while not exactly a ringing endorsement, still counts as a vote.

The Claremont independent, retired at 73 after a career selling motorcycles and hot rods, described Riverside County Sheriff Chad Bianco, the other major GOP contestant, as a racist and dismissed the entire Democratic field with a string of epithets. “Dumb—,” he said of the voters who keep putting the likes of them in power.

Peaches, a chihuahua/boxer rescue, stands alongside her owner, Wayne The Flame

If not terribly enthused, at least The Flame has made up his mind. Many voters remain undecided — or, at least, not entirely wed to a candidate.

Some are holding on to their ballots longer than usual, awaiting any last-minute developments and weighing the election odds as though wagering in a high-stakes game of poker.

Like many Democrats, Bryce Dwyer’s concern is that Hilton and Bianco will seize both spots in June’s top-two primary, advancing to a November runoff and giving California its first Republican governor in 16 years.

A 40-year-old project manager at the Getty Research Institute, Dwyer held his 2-year-old daughter as his son, 6, romped on a pleasant afternoon in Sierra Madre’s Memorial Park. Across the street, the bells of Christ Church chimed the hour.

“None of the Democrats are putting forth anything that is making me excited,” said Dwyer, who’s ruled out Becerra (he doesn’t see much there) and is deciding between Steyer and former Orange County Rep. Katie Porter. He’s trying to cast his ballot strategically, the East Pasadena resident said, and “it’s the first time in a while I haven’t really had a clue who I’m going to vote for so close to election day.”

Democrat Priscilla Vega of Monrovia has yet to settle on her candidate for governor

This is a deeply unsettled season in California, with precious little hope the next governor — whoever he or she turns out to be — will make things better anytime soon. That mix of discouragement and discontent surfaced repeatedly, like a dull ache, in conversations with dozens of voters across the San Gabriel Valley.

The region’s ethnic and economic diversity — from the working-class neighborhoods of Pomona through the Asian-majority suburbs to the mountainside mansions of San Dimas and Pasadena — make the valley a prime battleground in the race for governor.

Alana H., who asked not to use her last name, said she wasn’t even bothering to vote.

She ticked off some reasons: The soaring price of gas and rising cost of, essentially, everything else. The fear her college-age daughter will never be able to buy a home in California. Worse, is her loss of faith. She no longer believes in the promise, once taken for granted, that each generation will improve its lot over the last. And, Alana said, she’s not alone: “Anyone who’s an average person is in the same boat, we’re all just trying to stay afloat.” Standing in front of the post office in Alhambra, the 52-year-old paddled her arms as though to keep from sinking.

Jaunenito Pavon, in his Glendora wine and chocolate bar, would like California to elect a governor who could unify the state. He’s still deciding on a candidate

The politicians in both parties are “so out of touch,” she said, “all they’re doing is fighting over this and that, when everyone I know doesn’t care what party you’re in. They just want to put food on their table. They want their kids to have a better life.”

Shelby Moore has some of the same concerns. Forget about ever buying a home, said the 30-year-old California native, a Democratic-leaning independent. It’s no small feat scraping up money for rent. “I’ve lost almost every single friend that I went to high school or college with,” Moore said between waiting tables at a Mediterranean restaurant in Glendora. “They’ve all moved out of state.”

Shelby Moore, 30, a waitress in Glendora, said all her friends from high school and college have left California because it’s so expensive.

She’ll definitely vote, Moore said, though she doesn’t know for whom. One of the Democrats. Someone who’ll work to make California more affordable and keep people like her friends from being priced out.

In Claremont, Eric Hurley was another undecided Democrat. He attended last month’s gubernatorial debate at Pomona College, where the 56-year-old professor teaches psychological science and Africana studies. Otherwise, he’s been too busy to pay much attention to the race.

But it’s important, Hurley said, that whoever wins “keep fighting the good fight and standing by our liberal principles. I would hate to see someone in the governor’s office start capitulating to what the current administration is asking.”

Democrat Eric Hurley is undecided in the governor’s race. But he wants someone who’ll stand up to the Trump administration.

Others seconded that notion, that California needs to stand as a bulwark against Trump and his excesses, such as the draconian crackdown that has terrorized the state’s large immigrant population.

But there’s not a great appetite for the sort of performative pushback that’s won the current governor a wide audience on social media and boosted Gavin Newsom’s political stock as he positions himself ahead of the 2028 presidential campaign.

Jennifer Harris, 56, is a single mom in Monrovia who oversees payroll at a food manufacturing company. She has to stretch each of her dollars to make ends meet; soon she’ll be shelling out $30,000 a year for her daughter to go to college. Buying a home, Harris said, is out of the question.

She confessed to chuckling at the governor’s memes — an over-the-top oeuvre that includes Newsom as super hero, Newsom as religious beacon, Newsom as romance-novel hunk — and his other cheeky jabs at the president. “But that’s not an adult way to handle it,” Harris said between errands in Monrovia’s quaint shopping district. “It’s not solving any problems.”

Better, she said, for the next governor — she hasn’t decided whom she’ll support — to focus on practicalities: improving the economy, making housing and healthcare more affordable, dealing with homelessness and the underlying mental health issues.

Jennifer Harris said Gov. Newsom’s over-the-top social media presence is amusing. But she wants the next governor to focus on more practical things.

Britnee Foreman echoed that sentiment.

The 41-year-old, who lives in Azusa and works in the music business, was meeting a friend, Priscilla Vega, 43, for lunch in Monrovia. Along with a meal, the two Democrats shared their concerns about inflation and income inequality.

“Memes are great for publicity,” said Foreman, who’s deciding between Becerra and Porter, based on their policy experience. (Vega, a lifestyle marketer, has yet to narrow down her choice.)

Britnee Foreman says the next governor needs policies “with teeth,” not an active social media presence.

“But I prefer policy,” Foreman went on. “I don’t want them just to be the popular person out there on social media. It’s great if they’re tweeting and have a cute little Insta-story. But I need their policies to have teeth and actively move us forward. And not just look like it’s moving forward.”

After nearly eight years, amid widespread unease, California seems ready to put the Newsom era in the past. It’s just not clear what path voters will choose, or which candidate they’ll prefer to steer the state toward, hopefully, a better place.

Brian Lindstrom, a filmmaker whose documentaries shined a light on society’s underdogs and inspired social change, has died. He was 65.

Lindstrom’s wife, author Cheryl Strayed, confirmed the news on Instagram Friday.

“Brian Lindstrom died this morning the way he lived — with gentleness and courage, grace and gratitude for his beautiful life,” she wrote. “Our children, Carver and Bobbi, and I held him as he took his last breath and we will hold him forever in our hearts. The only thing more immense than our sorrow that Progressive Supranuclear Palsy took our beloved Brian from us is the endless love we have for him.”

According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, PSP is caused by damage to nerve cells in areas of the brain that control thinking and body movements. The rare neurological disease progresses rapidly.

Strayed, who penned the bestselling memoir “Wild,” which was later adapted for the big screen and starred Reese Witherspoon, announced just weeks ago that Lindstrom had been diagnosed “with a serious, fatal illness.”

Lindstrom was born Feb. 12, 1961. The son of a bartender and a liquor salesman, he was raised in Portland, Ore. — which he and his family still called home.

He was the first member of his family to attend college, which he paid for by taking out student loans, landing work-study jobs and working summers in a salmon cannery in Cordova, Alaska. During a 2013 TEDx Talk, Lindstrom said that after he’d exhausted all the video production classes at Portland’s Lewis & Clark College, his professor Stuart Kaplan gave him a gift certificate to a class at the Northwest Film Center. There, Lindstrom made a short film about his grandpa that landed him a spot in the MFA program at Columbia University.

It was a train trip with his grandpa that inspired Lindstrom to tackle challenging topics with a lens that restored dignity to his subjects. His grandpa was a binge-drinker, and on day three of the trip, he woke up with a hangover and was missing his dentures. Lindstrom, only 5 at the time, noticed the way other passengers treated him and his grandpa differently.

“I think what my films are about is that search for my grandfather’s dentures, the humanizing narrative that bridges the gap between us and them and arrives at we,” he said.

Lindstrom said he returned to Portland after film school and “did several projects with the Northwest Film Center that had me putting a camera in the hands of kids on probation, homeless teens, newly recovering addicts, hard-hit people who had hard-hitting stories to share.”

“Those projects taught me so much about the transformative power of art, and they gave me permission I felt in my personal films to ask people if I might follow them, so that an audience could better understand what they were going through, and by extension, better understand themselves,” he said.

Lindstrom’s 2007 award-winning cinéma-vérité-style film, “Finding Normal,” followed long-term drug addicts as they left prison or detox and tried to rebuild their lives with the help of a recovery mentor.

“What I’m most proud about is that ‘Finding Normal’ is the only film to ever be shown to inmates in solitary confinement at Oregon State Penitentiary, and not, I might add, as a punishment,” Lindstrom said.

In 2013, he released “Alien Boy: The Life and Death of James Chasse,” a documentary that illuminated the life of a man who grappled with schizophrenia and examined his death, which happened in police custody. Discussing the film with LA Progressive in 2018, Lindstrom said that he doesn’t make films for audiences.

“I make them for the people in the film. It is my small way of honoring them,” he told the outlet. “That doesn’t mean I don’t delve into dark areas or that I ignore that person’s struggles. I’m much more concerned with trying to achieve an honest depiction of that person’s life than I am with any potential audience reaction.”

Lindstrom’s work aimed to inspire empathy and humanize those suffering in the margins of society, but it also catalyzed policy change. His acclaimed 2015 documentary, “Mothering Inside,” followed participants in the Family Preservation Project (FPP), an initiative helping incarnated moms establish and maintain bonds with their children.

Midway through filming the documentary, the Oregon Department of Corrections announced it planned to nix funding for the FPP. Lindstrom hosted early screenings of the film, which inspired grassroots advocacy that reached then-Gov. Kate Brown, who subsequently signed legislation that restored funding. The film’s release also helped make Oregon the first state in the U.S. to pass a bill of rights for children of incarcerated parents.

Partnering with Strayed, Lindstrom made the documentary short, “I Am Not Untouchable. I Just Have My Period,” for the New York Times in 2019. The film highlighted the experience of teen girls in Surkhet, Nepal, and the menstrual stigma they faced. Most recently, the filmmaker released, “Lost Angel: The Genius of Judee Sill,” which examined the folk-rock singer’s life from her traumatic childhood and drug-addled adolescence through her rise in the Laurel Canyon music scene and untimely death.

Lindstrom, discussing “Judee Sill” and his style as a filmmaker, told Oregon ArtsWatch, “It’s the chance to kind of focus on the question: What does it mean to be human? The person that the film is about, what can they teach us, what can we learn from them? What can they learn from themselves?”

In 2017, Lindstrom received the Civil Liberties Award from the American Civil Liberties Union of Oregon for his work advancing civil rights and liberties. That same year, he received the Distinguished Alumni Award from Lewis & Clark College.

In Strayed’s post announcing Lindstrom’s death, she described their more than 30-year partnership as a stroke of “tremendous luck.”

“We loved each other and our kids with deep devotion and true delight. He was a stellar husband. He was the most magnificent dad. He was a man whose every word and deed was driven by kindness, compassion, and generosity,” she wrote. “He saw the goodness in everyone. He believed that we are all sacred and redeemable.

“His work as a documentary filmmaker was dedicated to telling stories of people who, as he put it, ‘society puts an X through.’ He erased that X with his camera and his astonishing heart.”

Strayed’s memoir — which followed her as she hiked 1,100 miles along the Pacific Crest Trail in the wake of her mother’s death, a battle with drug addiction and divorce from her first husband — concludes with a happy ending. She finished the months-long hike and sat on a white bench near the Bridge of the Gods, a stone’s throw from the spot where, she writes, she’d marry Lindstrom four years later.

“His greatest legacy is Carver and Bobbi, who embody everything good and true about their father. Their extraordinary grace, courage, and fortitude during this harrowing time was unfaltering and grounded in the undying love Brian poured into them every day of their lives,” she wrote. “We do not know how we will live without him. We’re utterly bereft. We can only walk this dark path and search for the beauty Brian knew was there. It will be his eternal light that guides us.”

CHICAGO — President-elect Bill Clinton used a community college in Chicago Monday to try out an updated economic message that Americans will be hearing frequently from him in the weeks to come: We’re not out of the woods yet.

“When you read that things are getting better with the unemployment rate, inflation rate, housing starts, things of that kind, that’s a good thing,” Clinton told an audience of some 150 students at Wilbur Wright Community College on this city’s northwest side. But, he warned, those improvements are merely part of the short-term business cycle.

“Underneath that,” he said, are “20 years of problems.”

“We may or may not be coming out of the recession,” Clinton said. “There are some good indicators that we are, but the long-term problems are there and that is what I have to address.”

Clinton’s statements reflect a basic dilemma that he faces: He relied on a bad economy to help him get elected. And while he would like to see improvements, he must rely on continued worries about the economy to get his programs enacted over what is certain to be fierce opposition from vested interests in Washington. In addition, of course, having defeated President Bush on the issue of the economy, Clinton would like to be able to say that economic improvements occurred on his watch, not on that of his predecessor.

With the economy showing steady signs of improvement, those factors have impelled Clinton and his aides to try with increasing diligence to focus public attention on the long-term trends of economic stagnation–and his long-term agenda to change them–rather than on talk of a short-term stimulus to help an economy that may well be moving out of recession on its own.

The emphasis on the long-term agenda will be central to the economic conference that Clinton plans to convene in Little Rock next week. Aides envision the conclave in large part as a tutorial to explain to Americans why the country needs Clinton’s agenda of raising taxes, revamping the health care system, and increasing spending on education, training and new technologies to reduce the deficit.

In answering questions from the students, Clinton provided the most detailed view since the election of how he intends to form a coherent agenda out of the many promises he made in the campaign.

Repeatedly he referred to two key proposals: His plan for a national service trust fund to let Americans finance their educations by borrowing money and paying part of it back through public-service work, and his plans to reform the nation’s health care system.

Changing the health care system is the one thing that he would do “if I could wave a magic wand,” Clinton said, reminding the students of the effect that rising health care costs have had on the ability of American companies to compete.

At the same time, the session with the students showcased a shift in Clinton’s rhetoric from the language of the campaign to the sterner realities of governing. During the campaign, Clinton struggled against his natural tendency to give four-part answers to all questions. Now he appears to have given up that fight.

And repeatedly, as the students asked Clinton for more federal money for program after program, the President-elect, mindful of the massive deficit he soon will inherit, responded with a polite version of “no.”

One woman asked if he would provide special incentives for minority students to attend college. No, Clinton said, the goal should be to make loans and scholarship funds broadly available and then recruit in minority communities. A nursing student asked about special incentives to encourage people to pursue nursing careers. No, Clinton replied, noting that nursing salaries have gone up because of shortages.

Still another noted that some of the classes he wanted to take have been canceled due to a lack of funds. Could the federal government help? he asked. “The federal government, with the huge deficits we are now facing, does not have the capacity to take over substantial funding of the community college system,” Clinton replied.

Despite that, Clinton seemed to win the student’s enthusiasm simply by having shown up.

“He could have just gone to Princeton or Yale and spoken in their auditorium. Instead he came here,” said Erika Marie Dimitrijevic, a 35-year-old mother who attends an ultrasound training program at the school. “I think he wants to get closer to the people.”

Dimitrijevic is in many ways representative of the school, whose average student is a 31-year-old woman. Roughly 50% of the 14,000 Wright students are white, while 20% are black and 30% are Latino. About 15% are women who head households.

The President-elect also used the occasion to score some points with the area’s political leaders, who were crucial in his battles to win his party’s nomination and to defeat President Bush. They will be equally important to whatever success he manages in the next four years. Clinton took time to meet with Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley, along with Daley’s brother William, who has been touted in Chicago as a potential secretary of transportation in the Clinton Administration.

And in speaking to the students, Clinton made a point of praising their local congressman, Rep. Dan Rostenkowski, chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, whose panel will have jurisdiction over much of Clinton’s economic and health care proposals and whose help Clinton has courted assiduously in recent weeks.

If he succeeds in changing the nation’s health care system, “it will be in no small measure because of Danny Rostenkowski’s leadership,” he said.

Later in the day, Clinton arrived in Washington and courted members of Congress by attending a reception for newly elected freshmen.

He will spend most of today on Capitol Hill, meeting with freshmen congressmen again as well as with congressional committee chairmen.

Clinton’s attempts to woo members of Congress, both the powerful and the new, are in sharp–and deliberate–contrast to the approach of Jimmy Carter, the last Democratic President, whose relations with Capitol Hill were tense and troubled. Clinton and his aides, by contrast, have taken every possible opportunity to try to bring members of Congress onto his team, an effort which is likely to include appointing several to his Cabinet.

The first of those expected Cabinet appointments are expected later this week.

As Clinton left the White House guest quarters at Blair House Monday night, en route to a party at the home of Washington Post Co. Chairwoman Katharine Graham, he was accompanied by several members of his transition team and Lawrence Summers, a World Bank economist, who is considered a possible choice for economic security adviser.

After a scheduled return to Little Rock tonight, Clinton likely will resign from the post of governor Wednesday, closing a 12-year chapter of his life. He is also expected to release new ethics guidelines for his Administration.

Researcher Tracy Shryer in Chicago contributed to this story.

The U.S. Department of Education opened an investigation Monday into Smith College, an all-women’s institution in Massachusetts, for admitting transgender women.

The probe by the department’s Office of Civil Rights will look at whether the college violated Title IX, a 1972 law forbidding discrimination based on sex in education.

The move is the latest by the Trump administration — whose rhetoric has frequently included attacks on trans people — to limit transgender rights in the U.S. The administration has said that Title IX prevents trans women from participating in women’s sports, suing several states and launching investigations into schools for not complying.

Smith College, a private liberal arts school founded in 1871, has admitted trans women since 2015, along with many other elite women’s colleges.

The school’s admission policies drew attention and sparked on-campus activism in 2013, when a trans high school senior was denied acceptance because her gender identity did not match the one on her financial aid forms.

Its website now says that “any applicants who self-identify as women; cis, trans, and nonbinary women” are eligible to apply to the school. Advocates have supported the shift over the years, saying that women’s colleges were founded to educate those marginalized because of their gender.

The number of women’s colleges in the U.S. has declined from more than 200 to just 30 as of fall of 2023, according to the Women’s College Coalition.

A college spokesperson did not immediately respond to an emailed request for comment.

According to the Department of Education in a news release, Title IX contains an exception that allows colleges to be all-male or all-female, but it only applies “on the basis of biological sex difference, not subjective gender identity.”

The investigation into Smith College stems from a complaint filed with the Office of Civil Rights in June 2025 by the conservative legal group Defending Education.

“DE and its members oppose, among other things, discrimination on the basis of sex in America’s K-12 schools and institutions of higher education,” the organization said in a news release.

During the Biden administration, new Title IX regulations were issued to prevent discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity. However, those were struck down by a federal judge in January 2025 who decided the rules had legal shortcomings.

Ding writes for the Associated Press.

The ninth in an occasional series of profiles on Southern California athletes who have flourished in their post-playing careers.

When the Dodgers drafted David Lesch in January 1980, they had visions of his fastball lighting up radar guns at Dodger Stadium.

He never made it that far.

Lesch never climbed above the lowest rung on the minor league ladder, where he pitched just 10 innings and gave up more runs, hits and walks than he got outs. Less than 18 months after he was drafted, Lesch, wracked by a rotator cuff injury, was released, his major league dream over before he was old enough to legally buy a beer.

“I went to Disney World after that,” he said.

But that wasn’t the only decision the Dodgers made that changed Lesch’s life. When he was drafted, the team gave him just a small bonus, but sweetened the deal by offering to pay for college if he ever went back to school. For the team, it seemed a safe bet.

“They probably have this algorithm saying ‘this is the No. 1 draft pick. If he doesn’t make it, he’s not going back to college. He’ll be assistant baseball coach of his high school or something,’” Lesch said.

Oops.

Lesch not only went back to college, but he also wound up getting three degrees, including a master’s and a PhD from Harvard. It was arguably the most important investment in humanity the Dodgers made since signing Jackie Robinson, because Lesch went on to become one of the world’s top experts on the Middle East, writing 18 books and more than 140 other publications while advising four presidents and a cadre of United Nations diplomats.

David Lesch interacts with students in his history class at Trinity University in San Antonio.

(Lucero Salinas / Trinity University)

“That was the best deal,” Lesch, 65, said by phone from San Antonio, where he is the Ewing Halsell Distinguished Professor of History at Trinity University.

“Without that I probably could not have said yes to Harvard because of the price. The Dodgers committed to paying.”

And by doing so, the Dodgers may have altered history just a bit.

Lesch’s regular meetings with Syrian president Bashar al-Assad, which ended with Lesch facilitating an important if temporary breakthrough in U.S.-Syrian relations? The diplomatic and conflict-resolution work in Syria and the wider U.N. initiatives on regional issues throughout the Middle East? The thousands of students Lesch inspired to go on to perform important diplomatic and public-service roles of their own?

None of that happens if Lesch’s shoulder had held on or if the Dodgers had reneged on their deal.

“It was very fortunate that he hurt his rotator cuff. Baseball’s loss is academia’s gain,” said Robert Freedman, a scholar and expert on Russian and Middle Eastern politics who taught Lesch at the University of Maryland Baltimore County.

“I’ve been teaching for, I guess, 60 years now and I can tell when a student can see a complex problem and can penetrate right to the heart of the problem very quickly. He was one of those students.”

Still, it took a slightly offhand comment from Freedman, who now teaches at Johns Hopkins, to launch Lesch on his post-baseball career.

“We were having lunch and he was looking for a project and I mentioned to him ‘you know, there hasn’t been a good American scholar doing work on Syria for many, many years,’” he said.

“That struck his interest.”

Playing a child’s game and managing life-and-death Middle East politics share very little in common. But Lesch made the transition seamlessly.

“It is like he’s several different people, or has been,” said journalist and author Catherine Nixon Cooke, whose book “Dodgers to Damascus: David Lesch’s Journey from Baseball to the Middle East” traces those parallel lives.

“I’m wondering if, in a sense, it all worked out the way it was supposed to,” Cooke continued. “Even though his dream was to be a major leaguer, David certainly has reinvented himself to this really remarkable man following a completely different path.

“It was the Dodgers who paid for him to go to Harvard and so it’s kind of a weird thing. Baseball took away his dream because he got hurt, but baseball also gave him his backup plan.”

Lesch was still a teenager when, 20 minutes into his first spring training camp in Vero Beach, Fla., Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda plucked him off a minor league practice field to pitch batting practice in the main stadium.

Waiting for him were Ron Cey, Bill Russell, Steve Garvey, Davey Lopes and Reggie Smith, the heart of a lineup that would win a World Series a season later.

It was the first time — and nearly the last — that Lesch faced big-league hitters. And it didn’t start well.

Batting practice pitchers throw from behind an L-shaped screen that protects them from comebackers and Lesch had never used one. That, combined with his understandable nervousness, caused him to short-arm his first fastball, which sailed at Cey’s head, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

“He got up and gave me this mean look,” Lesch said. “I remember it so vividly right now. I really thought I was going to be released that day.”

Instead, he gathered himself and finished the session, earning pats on the back from both Garvey and Lasorda. The incident, he said, has colored the rest of his life.

“I’ve met with presidents, prime ministers, been in war zones, all sorts of things,” Lesch said. “Anytime I say ‘well, you know, this should make me nervous,’ I think about that episode and the fact that I made it through and did OK.”

In high school, Lesch had focused on basketball and baseball. Academics? Not so much. So after spending his freshman year of college at Western Maryland College, he transferred to Central Arizona, a junior college, so he would be eligible for the January 1980 draft, allowing him to trade his books in for a baseball.

The so-called secondary draft, which was discontinued six years later, was specifically targeted toward winter high school graduates, junior college players, college dropouts and amateurs who had been previously drafted but did not sign. As a result, the bonuses teams offered winter draft picks were just a fraction of what players taken in the June draft received.

Lesch’s was so low, he can’t even remember what it was.

“I want to say $10,000 to $15,000,” he said. “No more than $20,000.”

When it became clear the Dodgers weren’t going to budge on the money, Lesch’s father, Warren, a family physician in suburban Baltimore, pulled out the Harford County phone book and looked up the number for Baltimore Orioles coach Cal Ripken Sr. Lesch played high school ball against Ripken’s son Cal Jr., who had been a second-round draft pick of the Orioles two years earlier. So his father thought the Ripkens might have some advice on what to ask of the Dodgers.

David Lesch, a former Dodgers draft pick, stands on the baseball diamond at Trinity University in San Antonio.

(Lucero Salinas / Trinity University)

“Ripken goes ‘does your son like school and is he smart?’” Lesch’s older brother Bob remembers. “So Ripken suggested if they offer you XYZ bonus money, take less and say ‘I’ll take this amount, but you have to cover education if he doesn’t make it.’”

Neither side thought that clause would ever be triggered; Lesch, a big, intimidating right-hander who threw bullets from behind Coke-bottle eyeglasses, wasn’t headed to a classroom, he was going to Dodger Stadium.

Until he wasn’t.

Lesch missed a couple of weeks with a back injury. By overcompensating for the sore back, he developed paralysis in the ulnar nerve in his right arm, limiting him to five appearances in his first minor league season.

He arrived healthy for his second spring in Vero Beach and threw three no-hit innings in his first outing against double-A and triple-A players, creating such a buzz that Ron Perranoski, the Dodgers’ major league pitching coach, showed up to watch his second game. By then the shoulder and back stiffness that shortened his first season had returned, and Lesch was rocked. Perranoski left early and unimpressed.

Lesch’s delivery had one major flaw: He threw directly overhand, as opposed to three-quarters or even sidearm, which can increase velocity but also places additional strain on the shoulder and elbow. As a result, his fastball could top out in the mid-90s one day, but when the stiffness and pain returned, it left him throwing in the low 80s.

The inconsistency continued to plague Lesch, and eventually the Dodgers decided they’d seen enough and released him. When he got back to Maryland, Lesch’s father sent him to see an orthopedic surgeon, who found the problem wasn’t in his back or elbow but rather the rotator cuff.

“We didn’t live in the era of pitch counts. So he just pitched,” said David Souter, a high school and college teammate who went on to develop big-league pitchers.

“He had the ability if he was developed and stayed healthy. I think he probably overthrew and tore his rotator cuff and nobody knew it.”

If Lesch had come along 10 years later, when rotator cuff surgeries were common, he might have returned to the mound. But in 1981, a rotator cuff injury was a death sentence for a pitcher.

“It’s just a crapshoot based on physiology,” Lesch said. “I probably was destined. Something would have happened.”

If he could do it over again, Lesch said he would change one thing.

“I’d throw sidearm,” he said. “It’s much less stress.”

He threw to big league hitters just one more time. Following the strike that interrupted the 1981 season, Ripken Sr. phoned Lesch back and asked him to throw batting practice at Memorial Stadium to help the Orioles prepare for the resumption of play. As a reward, the Orioles let Lesch hit — he never had batted in the minors — and he drove a pitch over the left-field wall, then dropped the bat and walked away.

He never stepped on a major league field again.

The Dodgers’ investment in Lesch’s education appeared manageable when he enrolled at a satellite campus of the University of Maryland, in part because his brother Bob was the school’s sports information director.

But it was 1981 and the Middle East was at the forefront of geopolitics. Lesch became convinced the Middle East would be central to world affairs for decades to come. Inspired and encouraged by Freedman and another professor, Lou Cantori, he applied to graduate school at Harvard, Georgetown, Johns Hopkins and the University of Chicago, knowing he couldn’t afford any of those schools on his own.

“I probably could not have said yes to Harvard when they accepted me because of the price,” Lesch said. “The Dodgers had committed to paying and whatever it was, it was a lot more collectively — my undergraduate MA and PhD — than I had gotten in the bonus.”

That wasn’t the only time his baseball background worked in his favor. Years after starting at Harvard, Lesch stumbled upon written evaluations of his application and learned that his grade-point average and other factors were similar to those of other applicants, but it was his athletic career that had swung enough votes in his favor to get him accepted.

“Failure is at the core of sports. And so you have to have this resiliency,” Lesch said. “What a lot of the top colleges have found is that these young kids out of high school who somehow get a 4.6 GPA, they come in — and I’ve seen this as a professor — they get their first C and they’re distraught.

“Athletes stick with it. They say ‘how can I turn this around? How can I get better?’ Admissions departments across the board have looked at athletes much differently.”

The struggles Lesch experienced on the diamond did not follow him into academia. Yet becoming an expert on the Middle East definitely was a backup plan.

“His first passion was clearly baseball and basketball,” said Souter, the former teammate. “Every kid dreamed … that.”

If the shoulder injury wasn’t a strong enough sign that that dream was over, the fire that destroyed Lesch’s childhood home a few years later was. The flames, which severely burned both his parents, also erased his baseball career, consuming all the photos and memorabilia he had collected, save for the championship ring from his one minor league season, which he found buried in the embers. It was the only thing to survive the blaze intact.

David Lesch’s championship ring from his one minor league season, the only surviving keepsake of his professional career after a his family’s home was destroyed in a fire.

(Courtesy of David Lesch)

A post-graduate trip to Syria, the first of more than 30 visits he has made to the country, sealed the deal a few years later. The love he once had for baseball he now felt for a strange and mysterious place that was as old as history itself yet as secretive as the classical ciphers.

Soon Lesch was helping arrange high-level meetings between Syrian president Hafez al-Assad and President George H.W. Bush, a baseball fan who seemed as interested in Lesch’s Dodgers days as his Middle Eastern expertise. But his big break came during the first presidential term of Bush’s son George W. Bush, when Bashar al-Assad, who succeeded his father as Syria’s president, welcomed Lesch for the first of many interviews that informed his book, “The New Lion of Damascus: Bashar al-Assad and Modern Syria.”

“His forte is listening,” Cooke, the biographer, said of Lesch, whose polite, unassuming manner reflects an adult life spent mostly in San Antonio. “When he goes in to try to mediate something, he is a big listener. There is a side of David that doesn’t talk much. But he’s listening.”

The book humanized al-Assad and opened, for a time, the possibility of normalized relations between Syria and the West, with Lesch serving as an unofficial liaison between Damascus and Washington, as well as other Western capitals.

“He’s absolutely a critical player in what we would call two-track diplomacy,” Freedman said. “If the government wants to reach out but doesn’t want to take the political consequences, they send somebody to sound out the situation.

“It’s absolutely critical that we have people like that who can speak the language and understand the overall context, which sadly is lacking in the current administration.”

David Lesch teaches students in his history class at Trinity University in San Antonio.

(Lucero Salinas / Trinity University)

But that opening closed as quickly as it opened. Lesch’s close contacts with al-Assad raised suspicions among some in Syria, and Lesch was poisoned twice. His relationship with al-Assad was severed completely shortly afterward when he criticized al-Assad for failing to implement promised reforms and becoming a “bloodthirsty tyrant.” The Syrian civil war took nearly 700,000 lives and displace another 6.7 million people before al-Assad and his family fled into exile in Russia in 2024.

“Many governments think that they can reduce war to a calculation,” Lesch said. “What we cannot measure accurately or fully appreciate is the human element. We cannot assess a people’s sense of grievance, passion, revenge, ideological commitment and historical circumstances that shaped the nature of their response and staying power.

“This is where academics can make a contribution to policy, giving it the depth and insight gleaned from years of study and learning the culture and the people.”

Baseball’s loss wasn’t just academia’s gain. It may prove to be humanity’s as well.

“I don’t really have any regrets,” Lesch said. “My career turned out great. I could not think of doing anything else at this point and, in fact, in a way I’m glad [baseball] didn’t work out.”

ST. LOUIS — Dodgers right-hander Emmet Sheehan first met MLB.com researcher extraordinaire Sarah Langs during the World Series last year. But he’d known of her before that.

Langs, who turned 33 on Saturday, made her mark on the industry early in her career. Even as a young writer, her talent for digging up interesting stats, along with her contagious positivity and love for the game, set her apart in a crowded media landscape.

Langs was aware of Sheehan too, not only for his blossoming major league career, but also the message stitched into his glove: “K ALS.”

Langs was diagnosed in 2021 with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, a progressive neurodegenerative disease, also known as Lou Geherig’s disease after the Hall of Fame New York Yankees first baseman. Langs advocates for ALS research, partnering with Project ALS, and frequently highlights others who are raising awareness and funds for the cause.

“Just getting the chance to meet her was awesome,” Sheehan said in a conversation with The Times. “She’s a great advocate and a really smart mind in the world of baseball. So it’s awesome to have her.”

When Sheehan pitches, Langs posts pictures of the message on his glove. For his start Friday, Langs’ post included the caption: “May is ALS Awareness Month. Fitting that Emmet Sheehan is on the mound tonight. His gloves all say ‘K ALS.’ How lucky are we to have that sentiment represented on an MLB mound?!”

The next day, MLB posted a video of Sheehan wishing Langs a happy birthday and letting her know he was gifting her a glove as a token of his appreciation.

“I’m happy I get to be a part of the league where [ALS research and awareness] is kind of a main focus,” Sheehan said Saturday, also highlighting Chicago Cubs broadcaster Jon “Boog” Sciambi’s work through Project Main Street. “It’s been really cool.”

Sheehan has displayed “K ALS” on his gloves since college, when he joined a Boston College program that embraced the cause.

Pete Frates, who popularized the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge in 2014, was a former B.C. baseball standout. And he returned to serve as the director of baseball operations in 2012, the year he was diagnosed with ALS.

During Sheehan’s first year at Boston College, he got to spend time with Frates and his family before Frates died in December 2019.

“We talked about it a ton,” Sheehan said. “It was a huge part of our program. So it was a good opportunity to learn about it and just how terrible the disease is and how it can affect people.”

The lesson stuck with him. And now, as a major league player, he’s passing it on.

The tallest player in college basketball history plans to take his long strides from Gainesville, Fla., to Orange County.

Olivier Rioux, who is 7-foot-9 yet seldom played at Florida, has committed to UC Irvine, he announced on Instagram. His move likely was prompted by the near certainty that he wouldn’t crack the Gators’ starting lineup next season, either.

Florida is expected to be ranked No. 1 entering the 2026-27 season after finishing 27-8 and ranked No. 9 in the final AP poll behind three star players. Thomas Haugh and Alex Condon announced they would return and Rueben Chinyelu is expected to withdraw from the NBA draft and also return.

Rioux, who will be a redshirt sophomore, grew up in Quebec and played at IMG Academy in Bradenton, Fla., before attending Florida as a preferred walk-on. He appeared in 11 games, scoring seven points, becoming the tallest player to score in a Division I game.

He will be fun to watch play regardless of whether he is dominant. Rioux dunks without jumping, a feat highlighted by his first college field goal against Saint Francis in December 2025 and a memorable March Madness moment in 2026 with an offensive rebound and put-back dunk.

He didn’t play more than a few minutes at a time because Florida coach Todd Golden said he lacked the stamina to do so.

Mamadou Ndiaye, who is 7-foot-6, played at Irvine from 2014-2016, likely confident he would be the tallest ever to suit up for the Anteaters. Ndiaye twice was named Big West defensive player of the year and helped Irvine to a Big West Conference title and NCAA tournament berth. He played five years in the NBA, including for the Clippers in 2004-05.

Rioux is one of only three college basketball players in history taller than the decorated former Irvine center, according to ESPN. The Anteaters can only hope Rioux makes a similar impact.

Last season Irvine won the Big West regular-season title but lost to Hawaii in the conference tournament. The Anteaters went 32-7 in 2024-25. Guard Jurian Dixon starred on both teams but transferred to Virginia this offseason.

According to the Florida media guide, Rioux is the Guinness World Record holder for tallest teenager. He stood 6-1 at age eight, 6-11 by sixth grade and became a certified 7-footer the next summer. Rioux played on Canada’s national team at various age levels.

The center redshirted in 2024-25 when Gators won the national title in 2025 and appeared in 11 games last season. In late March, he announced that he would enter the portal in search of more playing time. On Thursday, he made a decision.

“Next stop: Irvine, California,” he wrote on social media.

Five years ago, longtime baseball coach Joe Cascione left coaching the sport to start a women’s tennis team at Mission College.

On Wednesday, Mission College won the state women’s tennis championship armed with local players from Kennedy, Granada Hills, Sylmar and Birmingham high schools, among others.

It’s quite an achievement to win it all with local athletes.

Key contributors included Amy Nghiem, Priscilla Grinner and America Fragoso from Granada Hills; Jaelyn Rivera from Birmingham; Josilyn Rivera and Natalia Ponce from Kennedy; Alitzel Ortega Partida from Golden Valley; Genesis Nochez from West Ranch and Kristen Bonzon from Sylmar.

Cascione singled out his players for their passion and commitment.

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email eric.sondheimer@latimes.com.