family affair

SÃO PAULO, Brazil — Turns out, the marquee matchup Friday night between the Chargers and Kansas City Chiefs isn’t just a season-opening showdown between two premier quarterbacks and legitimate Super Bowl hopefuls.

It’s also a family feud — minus the bad blood.

Devin Woodhouse, head strength and conditioning coach for the Chargers, is the son-in-law of Chiefs coach Andy Reid, an under-the-radar connection that further hems these AFC West rivals.

“In our first game last year, I was a little anxious playing them,” Woodhouse told The Times. “It felt weird rooting against him at times.”

Reid understands, and he loves the fact that before bringing Woodhouse with him from the University of Michigan, Chargers coach Jim Harbaugh called his Kansas City counterpart and asked him if that would be OK.

“I said, ‘Heck, yeah, I’m honored that he’s got an opportunity to work for you,’” Reid said. “I got the biggest kick out of that, that Jim would even think of that. … What a class act.”

Chargers strength and conditioning coach Devin Woodhouse instructs players during practice at The Bolt in El Segundo on Dec. 13, 2024.

(Los Angeles Chargers)

Woodhouse, modest and focused on his Chargers responsibilities, was initially reluctant to sit down for an interview. But Harbaugh and Reid nudged him to talk, as did his direct boss, Ben Herbert, executive director of player performance.

“I don’t want to dim that light on him,” Herbert said. “I want that light brighter.”

Woodhouse, 34, who grew up in Rancho Cucamonga, met his future wife, Drew Ann Reid, when they were members of the same ward of their church in Provo, Utah. They had mutual friends, an instant connection and were married in 2013.

The couple was further bonded by tragedy. Drew Ann’s older brother, Garrett, who struggled with drug abuse for years, died in 2012. The twin brother of Woodhouse, Chaz, who was confined to a wheelchair with cerebral palsy, died a year later.

“As our relationship was growing, her brother passed away,” Woodhouse said. “We grew even closer together.”

The two now have four children, two boys and two girls, all of whom refer to Reid as “Gramps.” Woodhouse doesn’t call his father-in-law anything but “Coach.”

“I would say he’s a better man than he is a coach, and he’s a pretty dang good coach,” Woodhouse said. “And [mother-in-law] Tammy is the head coach of the head coach, so that’s how good they both are. I just love them, and not just the people they are for my wife, but for my kids and their grandkids.

“One of the things I love most about Coach Reid is how much I feel people love to play for him. It’s a cool thing to witness and I respect it a lot.”

Woodhouse feels the same way about Harbaugh, for whom he and Herbert worked at the University of Michigan.

“Ben Herbert found Dev,” Harbaugh said. “When Herb recommends somebody, I already know it’s going to be good. He doesn’t bring in anybody who doesn’t have a tremendous work ethic. Devin came in, and Herb was right.”

Herbert is meticulous down to the smallest detail. For instance, each dumbbell at the Chargers facility is emblazoned with the club’s lightning-bolt logo. Not only is that wall of weights always precisely arranged, but every lightning bolt is arched in an identical way. To ensure there’s never a speck of dust on the floor, Herbert and his crew use electric leaf blowers each day to clean the massive space.

Helping oversee the physical well-being of so many elite athletes is a challenging assignment, particularly for a franchise that has an unfortunate history of losing key players to injuries — as the Chargers did in August with left tackle Rashawn Slater, who sustained a season-ending knee injury.

Chargers strength and conditioning coach Devin Woodhouse helps quarterback Justin Herbert with his jersey during training camp in El Segundo on July 21, 2025.

(Ty Nowell / Los Angeles Chargers)

The way Harbaugh sees it, no one is better equipped to train an NFL team than Herbert.

“We are the tip of the spear,” said Herbert, who is not related to Chargers quarterback Justin Herbert. “Our job is to impact the mental and physical capability of the players. The physical part is much easier. The mental part — emotional stability, consistency — that’s the separator. And trust is everything.”

Woodhouse has a knack for building and maintaining those trusts.

“He has an ability to build relationships across a melting pot of personalities,” Herbert said. “He’s also versatile across range-of-motion, tissue and joint, strength, power and movement traits. So much so that with my 14-year-old, twice a week I want Coach Woodhouse to work with him.”

Woodhouse has a particularly keen eye when it comes to evaluating the tiniest aspects of a person in motion, helping players make subtle adjustments to the way they run in order to improve their speed.

Chargers strength and conditioning coach Devin Woodhouse works with Chargers wide receiver Ladd McConkey before a game at SoFi Stadium against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers on Dec. 15, 2024.

(Ty Nowell / Los Angeles Chargers)

“Dev’s someone who’s going to support you, but he’s going to tell it like it is,” Chargers receiver Ladd McConkey said. “I’ll be running a route, and Dev’s over there with his phone recording me. Then we’ll look at it in slo-mo and break it down.”

During games, Woodhouse is on the sideline as a “get-back” coach — a term he doesn’t particularly like — making sure players and coaches keep a sufficient distance from the field.

As for his own emotions, he figures he will have them in check, even with his father-in-law on the opposite sideline.

Family is family, true. But football is football.

Kelly Osbourne’s engagement to Sid Wilson wound up being a family affair.

The Slipknot DJ proposed to the former “Fashion Police” co-host backstage at Ozzy Osbourne’s final show Saturday, and she said yes. But not before papa Ozzy got a few words in edgewise.

“Kelly, you know I love you more than anything in the world,” Wilson said, holding Kelly‘s hand after family and friends crowded around them and were shushed by mom Sharon Osbourne, according to a video Kelly posted on Instagram.

“F— off, you’re not marrying my daughter!” Ozzy interjected, true to form. A big round of laughter followed before Wilson got back to business.

“Nothing would make me happier than to spend the rest of my life with you,” he told Kelly, reaching into a bag slung across his chest and extracting a small box.

“So in front of your family and all of our friends,” he said as he got down on one knee, “Kelly, will you marry me?”

Kelly‘s jaw dropped as she looked around the room in shock. The two had welcomed a son, Sidney, in November 2022, less than a year after they started dating. Kelly, 40, and Wilson, 48, met more than 20 years ago when Slipknot was part of the Osbourne family’s Ozzfest tour.

She was still in her teens; he was seven years older and better friends at the time with her brother, Jack Osbourne. Kelly said on a podcast in March 2024 that Wilson began liking her — though she had no idea — in 2013, after they ran into each other at his record store on Melrose Avenue. Around 2020, he invited her to a Slipknot show in L.A., and things progressed from there.

“It wasn’t, like, forced. Because we had been friends for so long and known each other for so long, there was a sense of comfortability that I’ve never had with anyone else,” she said on the podcast, via People. Plus, she told her mother, “I was never going to come home with anyone normal.”

But bringing Wilson home now seems like it was a good move. On Saturday, after she nodded yes, he slipped the ring on her left-hand ring finger. Then he and his bride-to-be hugged like there was no tomorrow.

Kevin Williamson, whose previous screen creations include teen romantic drama (“Dawson’s Creek”), meta slasher horror (“Scream”) and teen supernatural gothic (“The Vampire Diaries”), has thrown his hat into the popular dysfunctional-family-doing-crimes ring with “The Waterfront,” premiering Thursday on Netflix. Set in North Carolina, like “Dawson’s Creek,” it’s a soap opera with drug smuggling.

Welcome to Havenport. As crime families go, the Buckleys are not the Corleones, although their involvement with the darker side of life is generational. (Legitimately they run fishing boats and a fancy restaurant and are sitting on a prize piece of undeveloped seafront property.) Grandpa (deceased) was some kind of troublemaker; father Harlan (Holt McCallany), who fondly remembers the cocaine trade of his younger days, when people dressed well and were polite, has checked out of all family affairs after a heart attack or two in favor of drinking and cheating on his unusually understanding wife, Belle (Maria Bello).

Meanwhile, without telling Harlan, Belle and son Cane (Jake Weary), a disappointed former high school hero, have been providing boats to idiot drug smugglers in order to pay off mortgages and loans that might cause them to lose their aboveboard businesses and cherished identity as the Buckleys of Havenport. When things go south, they get drawn in deeper — Cane, reluctantly, and Harlan, almost enthusiastically. It makes him feel like his old self again and gives him a reason to bully Cane — in order, he imagines, to toughen him up. But he’s basically a bully — imposing yet somehow bland.

Cane had a chance to play college football in Miami, but his father undercut his confidence; he is still waiting for it to return.

“I’m really good at almost,” he tells high school girlfriend Jenna (Humberly González), whose unexpected return to town has him emotionally unsettled, in spite of having a perfectly lovely wife, Peyton (Danielle Campbell), and a young daughter. “Almost good enough. Almost a good guy. I’m almost a good husband, father, son. Just not quite, you know.” (Jenna is nominally a journalist, working in Atlanta. “I read some of your articles online,” says Cade. “You’re a good writer!”)

Maria Bello stars as Belle Buckley in “The Waterfront.” (Dana Hawley/Netflix)

Holt McCallany plays patriarch Harlan Buckley. (Dana Hawley/Netflix)

The remaining Buckley, younger sister Bree (Melissa Benoist), is not currently doing any crimes, though she earlier burned her family’s house down and is now permitted to see her sulky teenage son, Diller (Brady Hepner), only in the presence of a court-appointed chaperon. Not that Diller wants to see her at all; she did burn his house down. (“No one was hurt,” Bree points out. “Physically,” Diller replies.) But manners are manners, whatever your mother’s done, and she was an addict, after all. Now she’s out of rehab, going to meetings and working in the family restaurant, though asking to get back into the front office. Perhaps she has an ulterior motive; so many of these characters do.

Also in the intertwined mix: Gerardo Celasco as too-buff-by-half Drug Enforcement Administration agent Marcus Sanchez; Michael Gaston as dangerous Sheriff Clyde Porter, an old frenemy of Harlan, seething with class resentment; and Rafael L. Silva as Shawn, the new bartender at the Buckleys’ restaurant, whose poor knowledge of mixology raises alarms. Topher Grace is on the cast list for a future appearance.

Given that Williamson grew up where the series is set and is the son of a fisherman, one might have hoped for more local color and a little insight into the fishing business, rather than concentrating on the criminal shenanigans and sexy stuff that could happen anywhere and does. (Yes, I have odd hopes.)

Instead, everything’s a little fuzzy, lacking in detail. Characters put on attitudes and get in and out of trouble — there are shootings and scrapes, surprising reveals and shocking events — but few are, or seem about to develop into, interesting people. (Only three episodes of eight were out for review, so something might well pop; still, that’s three hours of television down.) They’re a little bland, even, and what happens to any of them, though of idle interest, is never really a compelling question. Belle stands out by virtue of being played by Bello and given at least one scene in which she seems like a regular, empathetic person, and Bree can be sympathetic, given how much her son hates her. I would counsel Peyton, one of the few without an agenda — so far, anyway — to take her daughter and leave town, but I’m guessing that won’t happen.

If in some ways “The Waterfront” feels assembled off the shelf, there’s enough activity that some viewers, possibly a lot of them, will dig in just to see how this thing caroms into that. That’s the engine that runs no small amount of television. It’s easy enough to watch. And sometimes “just OK” equals “good enough.”