father

With a boisterous laugh, Giselle Bonilla recalls her introduction to Hollywood at the age of 12: on the set of “Freedom Writers,” the 2007 drama about at-risk high school students in Long Beach. She played a young version of Eva, one of the film’s main characters.

“I remember the first thing we shot was an initiation scene where I get the s— beat out of me,” she tells De Los, sitting at a coffee shop in Silver Lake on Sept. 11 (more on this date later). “They put this candy blood in my mouth, and I thought it was so fun.”

In retrospect, Bonilla, 31, finds great irony in how that initial foray into professional acting fictionally materialized her Mexican immigrant parents’ worst nightmare.

“We don’t come from money. They hustled all their lives and put my sister and I in private education, because they had this irrational fear that I would join a gang … then the first thing I ended up booking as an actor was getting initiated into a gang,” she says grinning.

Since that unique formative experience, Bonilla has traveled a winding path in and out of the industry, which ultimately led her to direct her first feature: the dark comedy “The Musical,” in theaters Friday.

The movie’s antihero, Doug (Will Brill), is a middle school theater teacher plotting his revenge against his ex-girlfriend Abigail (Gillian Jacobs), also a teacher — and her new boyfriend, the more charming Principal Brady (Rob Lowe).

Doug’s plan? To secretly persuade his young students to put on a musical about the horrors of 9/11 and its aftermath that’s certain to cause controversy and get the principal in trouble.

“I feel like you can be more honest with comedy,” says Bonilla about why this genre appeals to her. “You can get away with everything that you’re angry about and want to yell about. If you make them laugh first, people tend to listen.”

Left to right, back row: Alex Heller (screenwriter), Will Brill (center row) Gillian Jacobs, Giselle Bonilla (director) and Rob Lowe (on the floor) from “The Musical” at the Los Angeles Times 2026 Sundance Film Festival studio presented by Chase Sapphire in Park City, Utah on Jan. 24.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Though the actual show is only a small element of the narrative, it turned off distributors, who argued they wouldn’t be able to market a comedy that involved such a delicate subject.

Still, “The Musical” is making it to the big screen as a self-released title thanks to its executive producers, who believed in the film enough to put in more money for a release.

“I’m going to make sure people watch it regardless,” Bonilla says about being very involved in the marketing. “Even though it didn’t sell at Sundance, we still found a way, which is how we made the whole movie. It was nonstop fighting against the universe just to make a comedy.”

Less than a week before production started, Bonilla lost the actors who were originally playing Principal Brady and Abigail. As her film fell apart, she reached out to the industry contacts she had made after working as an assistant for a few years. Miraculously, the screenplay piqued Lowe’s interest. He came on board, essentially saving the project.

Will Brill and Rob Lowe star in “The Musical.”

(Blue Harbor Entertainment)

As a student at the AFI Conservatory, Bonilla had directed a short film version of “The Musical” that writer Alexander Heller, aware of her affinity for comedy, had conceived for Bonilla to direct. The core group of artists who made the short also worked on the feature.

And though she has always pushed for diversity on screen — including in her short films “Virgencita” and “Bullfighter” — for “The Musical,” Bonilla believed the adults had to be white.

“It would be way more damaging if I had pinned a brown person to be behind the staging of a musical about 9/11,” she explains. “It was very clear to me that this was a comedy about white liberalism and how people weaponize tragedy for their own agenda.”

When it came to the kids in Doug’s class, Bonilla wanted to reflect the multicultural mosaic that is the Los Angeles Unified School District. To be able to see herself in “The Musical,” Bonilla wanted a Latina girl as the child with the most ambition to succeed in the arts. That character became Lata: played in the feature by Melanie Herrera in her first acting credit.

“She’s a dancer. But she’s very precocious and has a really confident, type-A personality,” Bonilla says of the young actor. “Melanie gives Reese Witherspoon in ‘Election,’ like, ‘I will do whatever I have to do for the part,’ and I recognized that in myself as a kid.”

Filmmaker Giselle Bonilla on the set of “The Musical.”

(Peter McCollough)

An L.A. native raised in North Hollywood, Bonilla started doing improv at a young age encouraged by her father, Art Bonilla, who grew up in Tijuana and has worked as an actor in the U.S. for over 40 years.

Her mother, originally from Sinaloa, does workers’ compensation insurance, which provided a stable income and allowed her partner to pursue acting.

“It was tough seeing him struggle and not have any agency over work,” Bonilla says of her father. “He’s such a great actor and he’s really funny, but he’s always getting cast in these very small bit parts as a gardener or an immigrant crossing on the border.”

Unsurprisingly, when Bonilla began auditioning for roles as a teenager, similarly one-dimensional and stereotypical characters from a “troubling perspective” came her way.

“They always make the main character in those stories a white person,” she says. “And then we’re painted as these puppies that just keep getting beat up. I didn’t want to contribute to that.”

Bonilla’s interest in being on the other side of the camera solidified after playing an illiterate South Central high school student in the Byron Allen sitcom “Mr. Box Office.” She attended Pasadena City College, where she studied film production, then used the residuals from the show to help pay for her tuition at NYU Tisch School of the Arts.

Attending film school on the East Coast was, as she puts it, a necessary experience, because she grew up rather sheltered.

“I’m a first-gen Mexican American woman and I was supposed to live at home until I get married,” she explains; but it also exposed her to the concept of impostor syndrome.

“I always had this impostor syndrome at NYU, because that was where I first really confronted wealthy people,” she explains. “I had never been in a predominantly white institution before. And that was really eye-opening.”

It was only when COVID restrictions were lifted that Bonilla decided to apply to the AFI Conservatory, where she regained her confidence and met her now close collaborators.

She has, however, never forgotten her biggest and earliest supporters. Since she started directing, Bonilla has cast her father in many of her short films. And in “The Musical,” you can see both of her parents in the audience during the culminating school show.

“My dad is the one that yells at Rob Lowe at the end in slow motion. He’s pissed that I cut his line, but it was a union film, and we couldn’t afford to give my dad a line,” she says. “But he will be the first one to tell you that he’s not an extra. He did a ‘cameo!’”

“The Musical” director Gisella Bonilla poses at the Los Angeles Times 2026 Sundance Film Festival studio presented by Chase Sapphire in Park City, Utah, on Jan. 24.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Bonilla’s next project takes inspiration from her memories attending a Catholic school run by nuns in Sun Valley, where a teacher was discovered to be a pedophile. She describes it as “an erotic thriller told from the perspective of virgins.”

Once again, she’ll tackle an unsavory topic and figure out how to bring it to fruition; then distribute it come what may, because she refuses to be boxed in by the industry’s expectations.

“Identity stories are very important. If someone wants to do that, they should be able to do that,” Bonilla says. “But I don’t think our opportunity as Latinos should be limited to painting ourselves as victims against the supremacists.”

Four days before they’re set to play the first-ever concert by their new band, Dhani Harrison and Nigel Godrich sit down to enjoy a post-rehearsal libation in the parking lot of a North Hollywood practice space.

“Is there an opener?” asks Godrich, who holds a bottle of fancy root beer. Harrison, who’s clutching a Sapporo, grabs his friend’s drink and neatly pops the top off using his own bottle.

“I went to Brown,” he says with a little smile. “That’s what they teach you in the Ivy League.”

Harrison, 48, is the son of the late Beatles legend George Harrison; long before college, he got a priceless musical education from his father, whose final solo album — 2002’s Grammy-winning “Brainwashed” — Dhani helped complete after George’s death in 2001. Godrich, 55, made his name working in the studio with Radiohead on game-changing records like “OK Computer” and “Kid A”; he’s also produced for Beck, Paul McCartney and Roger Waters and played with Thom Yorke and Flea in Atoms for Peace.

Now the two have teamed up in Dragonflies, a spacey and atmospheric art-rock duo with a self-titled debut album due Friday from Dark Horse Records, the label George Harrison founded in 1974 and Dhani Harrison relaunched in 2020. This weekend, Harrison and Godrich will celebrate the LP’s release with two shows at Hollywood Forever’s Masonic Lodge, where they’ll be joined by guitarist Nick Valensi (of the Strokes) and drummer Joey Waronker (who’s played with Beck, R.E.M. and Oasis).

Asked how exactly the group came together, Godrich and Harrison look at each other across a picnic table and shrug. “The real reason we did it was as a vehicle to hang out,” Godrich says of the two, who’ve been pals since both were living in Los Angeles in the early 2000s and who both found themselves back home in England a few years ago.

Yet “Dragonflies” has plenty to offer the rest of us: Built around Harrison’s high, sighing vocals, the music moves with a funky rhythmic propulsion rooted in Godrich’s signature tape loops; lush string arrangements by David Campbell (also known as Beck’s dad) add a touch of slightly spooked romance to songs about nature and friendship.

Harrison describes the band’s sound as “a bit creaky” and compares it to the feeling of being out on the water. “I always thought that’s a cool place to start — like you’re on a sinking ship,” he says.

Godrich laughs and adds, “Well, I hope not.”

For Harrison, working with Godrich provided a kind of full-circle moment nearly two decades after he caught one of Atoms for Peace’s first gigs at downtown L.A.’s Orpheum Theatre in 2009.

“I remember it made me want to quit music,” he says, which draws a frown from his bandmate.

“That’s not a great review,” Godrich says.

“No, that concert blew me away,” Harrison replies. “I went home and I was like, Oh, they’ve already done all the things I want to do. So I just went and sulked for a few days.”

Dragonflies began after Harrison returned to England, where he’d grown up on his father’s Friar Park estate, following the death of his grandmother, who famously raised George Harrison’s widow, Olivia Harrison, in Hawthorne. “I was still here basically to be around her,” says the musician, who formed the bands Thenewno2 and Fistful of Mercy while in L.A. “When she passed, that was the last of my grandparents. My mom was living in England, and so I just thought, Well, time to go.”

Harrison sought out Godrich for help on his 2023 solo album, “Innerstanding”; later, he lent the producer one of his dad’s old tape machines — “They did ‘Shankar Family & Friends’ on it,” he points out — which led to a series of casual jam sessions at Godrich’s studio in London’s Brixton neighborhood.

“It was like, ‘Hey, you want to get some Japanese food and make some tape loops?’” Harrison recalls.

Godrich notes proudly that “the way the record was made was completely mechanical,” meaning nothing was programmed on a computer but instead recorded “live on the fly” using older equipment.

“Fortunately, we both own a ridiculous amount of analog gear,” Harrison adds. “Because we’re nerds.”

“I’m not a nerd,” Godrich says. “I hate gear chat.”

“That’s true,” Harrison says. “He doesn’t nerd out about that stuff — I’m the nerd. He won’t even let me use six Kaoss Pads onstage.”

What’s a Kaoss Pad?

“You don’t want to know,” Godrich replies.

Gearhead or no, the producer was adamant that Dragonflies not rely on prerecorded backing tracks when it starts playing live.

“No computers were harmed in the making of this show,” Harrison says — thus the extra players.

(Brian Feinzimer / For The Times)

Waronker is an old friend of Godrich’s who played drums in Atoms for Peace and on Beck’s “Sea Change” and “Morning Phase” (not to mention Beck’s brand-new “Ride Lonesome,” which Godrich mixed); the producer has known Valensi since he “didn’t work with the Strokes,” as he puts it, in 2003, when Godrich tried a couple of sessions with the New York garage-rock band before deciding it wasn’t a good fit.

Godrich says he plays bass in the live group because it’s easy. But also: “Bass is such an important part of the sound that if somebody else was doing it, they would never do it the same as me, and it would annoy me.”

Top three bass players of all time, according to Dragonflies?

“McCartney’s good, isn’t he?” Godrich asks.

“Les Claypool,” says Harrison. “I’m a huge Primus fan.”

“I like David J from Bauhaus,” Godrich says. “He’s an incredibly innovative bass player — always did very interesting things. Stylistically, he’s someone that I probably copy a lot from. It’s just the root notes, but whoever’s in control of the root notes is in control of everything.”

“It really is a power move to be the bass player,” Harrison says.

“I don’t want to be at the front — that’s not my thing,” says Godrich. “I don’t want to be the guy.”

Does Harrison?

“It takes me a while to get warmed up,” he says. “I don’t really look at people when I’m playing a show. I’m not sure if that means I’m mildly spectoral. I took the test, actually — I scored highest in my old band. I know a lot of neurodivergent people who perform.” He shrugs. “Sometimes you don’t get to choose if you’re the guy, but you’re the guy.”

In addition to his father, one of Dhani’s mentors was George’s friend and latter-day creative partner Jeff Lynne, who for all his musical genius has never seemed particularly comfortable onstage.

“He’s brilliant at what he does, but you talk about in-ear monitors or the sound onstage or the lighting or something, and it’s over,” Harrison says. “It’s too much input. That’s why Jeff wears the Spider-Man goggles,” he adds, referring to the ELO frontman’s ever-present aviator shades. “He has too much Spider-Sense. My dad was the same way. He definitely was like, ‘Look at him — don’t look at me!’”

After Dragonflies’ Hollywood Forever shows, Godrich and Harrison have dates scheduled in Europe for November and hope to play more in the future, depending on when Godrich finishes a couple of records he’s producing. (To give a sense of the stress he’s under, he mimes putting a gun to his head.) The duo already has enough material for a second album too.

How much time does Harrison intend to dedicate to the project?

“As much as I can, really,” he says. “How much do you want to hang out with your mate? I got bored of being Dhani Harrison anyway — I like being Dragonflies now.”

Joe Buck will call his seventh Super Bowl in February. It will be his first with ESPN — and, it turns out, won’t be his last.

The “Monday Night Football” play-by-play announcer and the network agreed to a six-year, $108-million extension, according to the Athletic. Buck’s deal was set to expire following this season.

Super Bowl LXI at SoFi Stadium will be broadcast on ESPN and simulcast on Disney sister network ABC. It will be the first Super Bowl on ESPN and the first on ABC since Super Bowl XL, which followed the 2005 season. The game is scheduled to rotate back to ESPN/ABC in February 2031.

While Buck seems locked in for that Super Bowl LXV broadcast, his longtime booth partner may not be — at least not yet. The Athletic reports that color commentator Troy Aikman remains unsigned beyond this season.

When asked about the contract situations for Buck and Aikman, an ESPN spokesperson directed The Times to a statement executive vice president of communications Josh Krulewitz gave to the Athletic.

“With this historic season for ESPN now underway, our entire focus is on bringing fans the best possible football coverage, culminating with our first Super Bowl,” Krulewitz said. “To that end, we won’t be addressing talent contract specifics publicly before the Super Bowl.”

Buck broke into broadcasting in 1989, calling games for the Louisville Redbirds, a minor-league affiliate of the St. Louis Cardinals. Two years later, he joined his father, Sports Broadcasting Hall of Famer Jack Buck, in the radio and TV booths for the Cardinals’ games.

In 1994, Buck was hired by Fox Sports. He eventually became the network’s top play-by-play voice for the NFL and MLB, calling 24 World Series and six Super Bowls for the network. Buck joined his father in the Sports Broadcasting Hall of Fame in 2022.

Buck and Aikman have been calling football games together since 2002 and left Fox for ESPN together before the 2022 season. Last season, “Monday Night Football” averaged 15.8 million viewers per game, the second-best ratings in ESPN’s 20 seasons of broadcasting the franchise (it averaged 17.4 viewers in 2023).

After appearing last year on a contentious political panel discussion in Washington, D.C., Jessica Tarlov, co-host of the the popular Fox News show “The Five,” was approached by a transgender woman from Alabama.

Tarlov had said that Democratic candidates in tough races might have to concede that transgender collegiate swimmer Lia Thomas should not be competing against women assigned female at birth. But the matter never came up. Instead, the Alabama woman thanked Tarlov for making the case for Democrats against four conservatives on “The Five,” the most watched program in cable news and a favorite of family members who no longer speak to her.

“If more people talked like you, I might get my family back,” the woman said. “I’m just happy my parents can hear someone like you.”

Tarlov describes the encounter in her new book “I Disagree: Winning Arguments Without Losing Friends,” out Sept. 15. The part how-to book and part personal memoir is aimed at helping readers navigate the harsh political divisiveness in the culture. Her role on “The Five” has made her an advocate of going into not-so-friendly territory to debate issues rather than staying in comfort zones where views are unchallenged.

“I’m trying to show that a Democratic voice like mine can exist there, without an apology,” she writes of her Fox News position. “And that a person with strong liberal beliefs can bring that same perspective to a host of outlets and places.”

During a recent conversation at Fox News headquarters in Manhattan, Tarlov said the kind words of the fan from Alabama align with what she’s heard from children and grandchildren of the network’s loyal viewers. They are grateful their Fox News-loving families are exposed to a voice from outside the conservative media ecosystem.

Fox News co-host Jessica Tarlov is the author of “I Disagree.”

(Penguin Random House)

Tarlov, 42, has been a sturdy liberal counterweight at “The Five,” which averages 3.5 million viewers daily, according to Nielsen. She comes to the panel’s table highly prepared with data-based talking points, forcing her often intractable co-hosts to engage and listen. She often does it while deflecting the mocking remarks of rambunctious colleagues Jesse Watters and Greg Gutfeld, who try to throw off her arguments.

“Interruptions are an indication that you’re winning,” said Tarlov, evoking the pithy chapter summaries in “I Disagree.”

Tarlov games out numerous scenarios with recommendations on how to deploy statistics and when to lighten up. She also explains the necessity of allowing the other side to blow off steam as she did when “The Five” co-hosts became emotional and overwrought over the shooting of right wing activist Charlie Kirk.

Tarlov believes the key to the success of “The Five” is the camaraderie the panel has off-camera. While the co-hosts will battle it out on set over President Trump’s policies or the excesses of the socialist wing of the Democratic Party, they are supportive of each other once the show is over (three of them are represented by the same CAA agent).

“We don’t talk politics outside of work,” Tarlov said.

Tarlov has been an accepted part of the Fox News family, recently signing a three-year contract despite Trump’s suggestion that “The Five” would be better off without her.

But it has taken time for Tarlov to gain credibility among like-minded pundits and thought leaders on the political left. Most are dismissive of the network as its most popular hosts are unwavering Trump loyalists. Tarlov also resists being in lockstep with every Democratic position and trend. (She voted for Andrew Cuomo over New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani, citing the former governor’s experience.)

“Even in the last year I’ve been at big liberal gatherings, very clearly hosts on other big podcasts or show were not interested in talking to me,” said Tarlov, who has had many conversations that start with the question “Why are you on that network?”

But with younger news consumers getting their news and information through social media platforms, Fox News clips of Tarlov scoring points for the Democrats are gaining attention. Tarlov said she has felt more welcome in left-leaning circles since the 2024 presidential campaign when the digital accounts of Joe Biden and then Kamala Harris put her commentary in heavy rotation. (Scott Galloway, the author and social critic, partnered with Tarlov on a podcast, “Raging Moderates,” after seeing her come up repeatedly in his feeds and then meeting her on the set of “Real Time With Bill Maher”).

Tarlov didn’t start out seeking a career as a TV personality, although her family background likely helped her understand media and communication. Her parents were attorneys who met while working on the Warner Bros. lot in New York, and raised their two daughters in the hip lower Manhattan neighborhood of Tribeca.

Her father, Mark Tarlov, was a onetime speechwriter for Supreme Court Justice Warren Burger who went on to produce two of John Waters’ films and direct projects of his own. Tarlov and her sister Molly, an actor who co-starred in the MTV sitcom “Awkward,” traveled the world with their father to shooting locations. (Tarlov pays tribute to her father, who died in 2021 of 9/11-related cancer, by wearing his nerd-chic Oliver Peoples eyeglass frames made of buffalo horn).

A graduate of Bryn Mawr College and the London School of Economics, Tarlov worked as a strategist on the London mayoral campaign of Boris Johnson. She talked Democratic pollster Doug Schoen into giving her a job. Schoen hired her and brought her to the attention of Fox News, which started using her as a guest on Sean Hannity’s program in 2016.

The ability to effectively volley with conservatives led Democratic Party leaders to approach Tarlov about running for Congress in the district representing Staten Island. (She has no desire to seek political office.)

Tarlov was named co-host on “The Five” in 2022. She and husband Brian McKenna, who works in finance, welcomed their first daughter in 2021, the other in 2024. She remains awed that the show’s viewers — most of whom don’t agree with her politics — have acknowledged her personal milestones with warm greetings and homemade gifts.

She is aware that she’s had a rarefied career. But in “I Disagree,” she goes beyond her impressive resume to reveal her insecurities — unusual in the ego driven TV news business — and tells readers how she’s tried to resolve them.

“I have a good amount of shyness to me,” she said. “I have a lot of imposter syndrome. I’m constantly in wonder that I ended up getting to do this and that hopefully, am the right person to do it.”

Long self-conscious about her raspy voice, which Trump once described as “grating and irritating,” she shares how a 2016 meeting with former Chief Executive Roger Ailes made her relax about it. He told her viewer criticisms were more aimed at her positions, at not how she sounded. “No matter what room the television is in, you want to make sure the person listening in the next room knows you’re on it,” he told her. “Don’t try to smooth your voice out. They may hate what you stand for and what you’re saying, but you want them to know it’s you on TV.”

Tarlov met with Ailes just months before he was ousted over sexual harassment allegations. While Tarlov was grateful for his advice, her book praises current Fox News Chief Executive Suzanne Scott for creating a workplace culture that is much more hospitable to women. Scott promoted Tarlov to co-host right before she was due to give birth to her first child.

“The knowledge that I’m supported allows me to take big swings and not be intimidated,” Tarlov writes. She knows that’s not the situation for all women; in her signature style, she presents the data and the narrative to back it up.

The crux to defeating California is clear.

At least, UCLA coach Bob Chesney made it so on Monday.

“We have a chance to put it together against another opponent, a really good opponent, very well-coached, phenomenal talent on this team, but it all starts with No. 3,” Chesney said.

And while No. 3, Cal quarterback Jaron Keawe-Sagapolutele, may be familiar with UCLA’s defensive scheme and personnel — telling reporters Tuesday that the offense has been studying film from James Madison’s 2025 unit for the past few weeks — he may not be as accustomed with the defense’s new identity.

Defensive lineman Sahir West, who transferred to from James Madison to UCLA, says the Bruins have embraced their coach’s emphasis on toughness and attention to detail.

(Robert Simmons / Associated Press)

UCLA defensive coordinator Colin Hitschler, who has made stops as defensive coordinator and safeties coach at JMU, Alabama, Wisconsin and Cincinnati during the past six years, wanted his defense to enter 2026 with a brand — a reputation to describe the team’s play.

And after presenting his team with different options, the defense settled on the “Bruin Bullies,” a name based on the 1970s Philadelphia Flyers “Broad Street Bullies” — an homage to Hitschler’s home city.

“It’s a lifestyle, it’s a mentality more than anything,” Hitschler said. “It’s what we need to do to win the next play. That toughness, that internal belief. That’s what it’s about.”

Since arriving in Westwood, Hitschler has consistently been touted for his toughness and encouraging his players to compete with an unwavering belief — values he developed as a wrestler.

Hitschler, who won a national prep championship at William Penn Charter School and then wrestled at the University of Pennsylvania from 2005 to 2010, grew up in Philadelphia surrounded by the sport, with his older brother, father and grandfather all lettering at his alma mater, and his father working as a longtime football and wrestling coach at his high school.

“Wrestling is a unique sport in that it’s an individual sport, and you walk out on a mat and you win or lose, and it’s all about just you,” Hitschler said. “It’s a glorified fight with rules. Winning your individual battle in football is what leads to team success, and when those guys really buy into that toughness that it takes to beat the guy across from you, then you’re going to have a really good defense.”

Beyond toughness, Hitschler wanted the Bruins to show intensity and relentless attention to detail, emphasizing the importance of “being intentional in everything you do.”

“The first fundamental is effort and attitude, which is four to six, A to B, and nasty intentions,” UCLA sophomore linebacker Scott Taylor said. “He won’t tolerate low effort or low intensity, and it could be on any play. … We might do all the things we want to do, and then we’re going to come back to meeting that night, and he’s going to pull up the three bad clips from practice and go, ‘This is unacceptable. We better fix it tomorrow.’”

Hitschler’s emphasis on attacking extends to the secondary.

“All 11 guys want to tackle the ball. We have some really tough kids playing [defensive back.] … Those guys love hitting,” Hitschler said.

Hitschler’s track record developing elite defensive backs — such as the Indianapolis Colts’ Ahmad “Sauce” Gardner, Chicago Bears’ Coby Bryant and San Francisco 49ers’ Darrick Forest — drew players such as Derrick Barksdale to UCLA.

“His intensity level, the way he approaches the game, is something that inspires a player to even play even harder, play with even more technique, or play with more detail,” Barksdale said.

James Madison’s Derrick Barksdale said UCLA defensive coordinator Colin Hitschler’s history of developing players inspired him to join the Bruins.

(Carmen Mandato / Getty Images)

Hitschler’s revitalized defense will have to create splash plays — something the Bruins lacked last season, finishing last in the nation in sacks and tying for third worst in interceptions — if it wants to stop the potent Cal offense.

“Takeaways are all about playing longer and harder than the offense does, and our job doesn’t stop till somebody or the ball is on the ground,” Taylor said. “Personnel aside, the way we’re going to attack offenses, and the way we’re going to play on defense, is going to create stress and chaos for every team we play. Inherently, with how we play, there’s going to be a lot of big plays, and we’re not going to sit back and hope that the offense messes up.”

Junior defensive lineman Sahir West said the UCLA defense has fully embraced the challenge of being “Bruin Bullies” all season.

“That’s who we truly want to be. That’s not just a moniker. That’s what we live by. That’s basically the brand of football that we want to play,” West said. “Be bullies on the field. Be dominant. Take play by play. Just play hard. That’s who we are.”

Funerals have taken place for two Palestinian teenagers who were shot dead this week when settlers and soldiers entered a Palestinian village in the occupied West Bank.

The killing of Omar al-Naasan and Khalil Abu Alia comes amid near-daily attacks by Jewish settlers in the village of al-Mughayyir, south of Nablus.

“We expect that when our sons walk in the street, they are likely to return to you injured or killed,” Mohammed Al-Naasan, Omar’s father, told the BBC.

Israel’s military says it fired on “instigators of a violent riot” and that the incident is under review.

The United Nations says more than 80 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli forces or settlers in the territory since the beginning of the year.

Wendell Berry, a Kentucky farmer and writer whose work advocated fiercely for working landscapes and working people, died “suddenly and peacefully” on Monday at his home in Port Royal, Ky., according to his family. He was 92.

His daughter, Mary Berry, confirmed his death. On Thursday, she told The Times that her father, until about six months ago, was still writing regularly in his cabin on the banks of the Kentucky River, a place he called “camp,” where many of his more than 50 volumes of poetry, short stories, essays and novels were written.

Berry championed sustainable farming and rural community preservation and railed against industrial agriculture and corporate agribusiness.

“He was fierce and he was fearless, and he remained fearless,” she said, explaining that her family taught her the erosion of rural places wasn’t inevitable but “destruction by design,” engineered by corporate interests and political policies.

Berry, whose writings were often fueled by an anger toward the forces that have driven the destruction of the rural land and communities that he dedicated his life to defending, softened in his final years, according to his daughter. “He was always a tender man, and that part of him got stronger. He was rereading a lot of books that he had loved in his life, and he told me he was looking for the tenderness in the books, and that’s a lovely thing.”

Berry’s most influential work began with a list of the problems he’d observed in modern agriculture, scribbled onto a legal pad as he traveled the long stretch of road between Kentucky’s Henry County and Spokane, Wash., where Berry would deliver a speech at the “Agriculture for a Small Planet” symposium in 1974.

“I was asked to talk about labor-intensive microsystems agriculture. That’s not my language, and it’s not the sort of language that I wish to use because it’s the way people speak when they don’t want to be understood by most people,” he began.

Berry spoke of the six generations of farmers who worked his land before him, and the concerns for farming communities and their agricultural economy that he inherited from his father. He decried “the experts and politicians who have prescribed, encouraged, and applauded the disintegration of such farming communities all over this country into our allegedly miraculous modern American agriculture.”

The speech would later become Berry’s 1977 manifesto “The Unsettling of America: Culture & Agriculture,” which launched a sustainable-farming movement and cemented Berry’s authority on agrarian issues on the national stage.

Beyond his cultural critiques, Berry wrote notable novels including “The Memory of Old Jack,” “Jayber Crow” and “Hannah Coulter.” He was a prolific poet as well. His verse included his debut collection, “The Broken Ground,” and his celebrated Sabbath Poems series, which explored living in harmony with the land.

Over the course of his career, he was honored with the T. S. Eliot Prize, the Aiken Taylor Award for Modern American Poetry and the Richard C. Holbrooke Distinguished Achievement Award from the Dayton Literary Peace Prize, among other accolades. In 2010, Berry was awarded the National Humanities Medal by then-President Obama for his achievements as a poet, novelist, farmer and conservationist. In 2016, he was the recipient of the Ivan Sandrof Life Achievement Award from the National Book Critics Circle.

Wendell Erdman Berry was born on Aug. 5, 1934, in Louisville, Ky., to John Marshall Berry Sr., a lawyer and tobacco farmer, and Virginia Perry Berry. Wendell was the eldest of four children, two boys and two girls. In high school, his parents shipped him off to Millersburg Military Institute, a former military boarding school in Kentucky, where rather than conform to the teachings, he later wrote that his takeaway was, “Take a simpleton and give him power and confront him with intelligence — and you have a tyrant.”

He went on to study English and creative writing at the University of Kentucky. There he met and wooed Tanya Amyx, who would become his wife and the mother of his two children, Mary and Pryor. He landed a Wallace Stegner writing fellowship at Stanford in 1958, and in 1961 he was granted a Guggenheim Fellowship, which allowed him to pack up the family and live in Tuscany and southern France.

After Berry’s scholarly pursuits took him to the West Coast, then Europe, then the East Coast, where he taught at New York University, he accepted a job at the University of Kentucky, allowing him to return home and back to his roots, on a farm near the river.

Then-President Obama presents the 2010 National Humanities Medal to Wendell Berry during a ceremony March 2, 2011, in the East Room of the White House.

(Mark Wilson / Getty Images)

“Within a few years, Mom and Dad were raising 85% of the food we were eating,” Mary told The Times. “We had a milk cow, raised hogs for our own use, and by the time I was a teenager, I resented the whole thing pretty seriously, and I remember saying to them more than once, ‘I did not choose to live this way, and I don’t know why we have to do everything the hardest way possible.’ We had no television. … But I was in a heck of a position with my parents because I never really thought they were wrong about anything, and I still don’t.”

When Mary would gripe, she said, her dad would laugh or “just keep working.” But “he talked about what we were doing and why we were doing it,” she said. “He told my brother and me from the time I can remember to look and see that this is good and don’t forget, and I have not forgotten.”

In 2011, when Berry was nearly 80 years old, he joined a high-profile sit-in at the office of Kentucky’s then-Gov. Steve Beshear to protest the destructive mountaintop strip-mining of coal. In an interview with Bill Moyers shared by the Berry Center in 2025, Berry said that he and his compatriots had had enough of the state government ceding control of resources to the coal companies. “In our society,” he said, “people with money are bigger and more powerful and more noticeable and count more as citizens than people without much money. … So we did confront the governor and tell him we weren’t going to leave.”

His attempt at civil disobedience was turned on its head when the governor invited Berry and the Kentucky Rising activists to stay.

“We did stay,” he said. “The whole weekend.”

“We were beautifully treated by the security staff and people who sent us food and bedding and good wishes and even came in and gave us massages. And it was altogether one of the loveliest weekends I’ve ever spent in my life.”

Berry continued writing into his old age.

Next month, Counterpoint Press will posthumously release “Dispatches From Rural America,” a collection of 15 essays. In one, “The Problem Is Industrialism,” Berry wrote about a 2021 conversation he had with a friend of more than 40 years, author Wes Jackson.

“To the extent that we were talking in earnest, our subject was the set of calamities that the media and the commentators frequently take up, typically dealing with each one in isolation from the others and representing each as an emergency more or less apocalyptic, and in tones recalling a number of vernacular alarms, from ‘Last chance for beer’ to ‘Prepare to meet God.’”

He continued later that the two discussed how industrialism “grows only by consuming, once and for all, the living world.”

Mary said she wanted people to know that, yes, her father was worried and wouldn’t have written so much if he weren’t terribly concerned about the future of rural America, but she wants people to understand that he was a man of great hope.

“Hope he felt was a duty, and I learned that from him,” she said. “As he said in one of his many poems, hope is what we owe people younger than ourselves.”

Mary said she was continuing her father’s work through the Berry Center, a nonprofit that aims to put Berry’s writings to work and advocates for farmers, land-conserving communities and healthy regional economies.

Berry is survived by his wife of nearly 70 years, Tanya, his daughter Mary, son Pryor, five grandchildren and four great-grandchildren.

WASHINGTON — Natalie Harp has never been in the spotlight quite like this.

Before the 35-year-old White House aide made headlines for her close access to President Trump, much of her early life was spent in Southern California, where she was home-schooled and attended a mega-church on Sundays — a quiet upbringing that, her brother says, was defined by conservative values and Christian teachings.

Their mother taught them at home using educational materials written from a biblical worldview. The family would attend services regularly at Shadow Mountain Church in El Cajon, where pastors would deliver sermons like the one from a recent Sunday, calling on God to use its thousands of congregants “in a way that turns this world upside down.”

“We were raised with the idea that America was God’s gift to the world and it’s the only place that people really live in freedom,” Preston Harp, her brother, told The Times.

Years later, in 2019, Harp’s ascent into Trump’s orbit began, when she went on Fox News to credit a healthcare bill Trump signed into law with saving her from a rare form of cancer — a story that later caught the president’s attention.

As that relationship took hold, the California family bubble she’d been raised in was bursting behind the scenes, culminating with her father’s suicide in July 2020. A month later, Harp emerged on the national stage, introducing herself as a “formerly forgotten American from California” at the Republican National Convention, where she declared her devotion to Trump.

“I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you,” she said.

Natalie Harp speaks after being called onstage by President Trump during the Faith & Freedom Coalition 2019 Road To Majority Policy Conference in Washington on June 26, 2019.

(Mark Wilson / Getty Images)

Now, she spends her days working as a special assistant to Trump, a man she has described, in highly personal letters, as her “guardian and protector.” In those letters, published by the Daily Beast, she has thanked the president for “always being there” for her and alluded to a “promise” Trump made to her after she lost her dad.

Harp’s taxpayer-funded job, with its unmatched access to the president, mostly happens away from the public eye. She has been called the “human printer” because she follows Trump with a portable printer to provide Trump with hard copies of flattering news coverage or information the computer-averse president requires.

She also stays up late drafting social media posts with the president, the New York Times reported. Several of Trump’s Truth Social posts have generated controversy in recent months, including an AI-generated image showing him as Jesus in a white robe laying his hands on a sick man.

Those who know her describe her as detail-oriented and a “devoted staffer to the cause” whose tight-knit circle includes those closest to Trump, such as Susie Wiles, Trump’s chief of staff, and Karoline Leavitt, the White House’s former press secretary.

“Just like many of the administration officials, you become friends with your co-workers,” Rep. Anna Paulina Luna, a Florida Republican who talks to Harp on a weekly basis, said in an interview.

Harp is “almost always” with Wiles, Luna said. The congresswoman added that her relationship with the president is “100% professional,” and that any suggestion otherwise is an attempt to smear her.

“She’s been nothing but professional and an absolute killer when it comes to getting her job done,” Luna said. “I would kill to have someone like her on my team.”

To her brother, Harp’s integration in Trump’s inner circle is in line with her upbringing.

“My mom raised us as super conservative, and he’s everything that she taught us to respect,” he said.

The White House declined to comment.

A California native in Trump world

As a kid in the San Diego neighborhood of Carmel Valley, Harp played with old-fashioned dolls and spent a lot of time reading, her brother said. For school, their mother used a curriculum from Bob Jones University Press, whose material focused on “biblical worldview shaping,” according to its website.

The home in which Natalie Harp, an aide to President Trump, grew up in the Carmel Valley neighborhood of San Diego.

(Sandy Huffaker / For The Times)

“We start with God’s truth as the standard,” the website states. “Scripture serves as the blueprint for how we put together our textbooks so that every lesson begins with truth.”

Growing up, Harp spent most of her time with adults, especially her mother, and would rarely socialize with her peers, her brother recalled. Even at church, she would opt to sit with the adults instead of spending time with the youth group.

“There would be like skateboarding demos, there would be cool stuff going on, but my sister was just with all the grown-ups, and she preferred it,” he said.

Harp and her brother were close as young children but drifted apart as they got older. Preston Harp found an outlet skateboarding and surfing with friends, and Harp opted to stay close to home, he said.

At some point, their mother began policing their discussions, particularly as he started espousing more progressive beliefs, her brother recalled.

“I wasn’t really allowed to be in her life,” he said. “If we ever talked on the phone my mom was listening to everything we’d say, and they were talking on the phone together with me on speakerphone.”

Harp declined to comment for this story through a request sent to the White House. Her mother did not respond to a phone call seeking comment.

An aerial view of Natalie Harp’s family’s home in the private gated community of Woodbridge Cove, in Irvine.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

In her mid-20s, Harp moved with her parents to Irvine to be closer to their father’s work at Biola University, a private Christian institution in La Mirada, southeast of Los Angeles. He worked as a professor at the school of business and later served as the executive director of the Office of Innovation, according to the university.

The family lived in a home adjacent to a man-made lake in Irvine’s Woodbridge neighborhood, a master-planned community known for its peaceful, family-friendly atmosphere.

Both Irvine and Carmel Valley are silos from the problems of the outside world, places where everything might seem perfect, even when it isn’t, her brother said.

“My mom likes living in bubbles,” he said.

Within a few years of the family’s move, in July 2020, Harp’s father, 61, died by suicide at their home. When Preston Harp arrived at the house, he said his mother wanted him to go along with the story that their father had died in his sleep. Preston refused, he said, not wanting to downplay his dad’s pain to keep up appearances. It was the start of a massive rift in the family.

“That was the last time I ever talked to my sister,” he said.

Entering the national stage

Harp has shared little about her upbringing publicly. However, she has spoken at length about medical issues she experienced starting in her mid-20s.

In 2020, she said during remarks at the Republican National Convention that five years earlier she was “the victim of a notoriously deadly medical error.”

“I survived, but only to be diagnosed with a rare and terminal bone cancer,” she said.

She said she was diagnosed with Stage 2 bone cancer. It was that experience that sparked her interest in entering the political arena.

“I just wanted to get better,” she said on the program. “I started tuning in for the first time into politics because I had never had a representative before. All my representatives were Democrats, so I thought, why should I care about politics?”

Two rounds of chemotherapy did not help and she was rejected from clinical trials, she said. But in 2018 Trump signed the Right to Try Act, which allows terminally ill patients to access certain experimental drugs and immunotherapy treatments that have not received full approval from the Food and Drug Administration.

“I am not dying from cancer anymore thanks to President Trump, I am living with cancer,” Harp said on the program.

The White House did not respond to a request seeking comment on the treatment she received.

Natalie Harp follows former President Trump as he boards his airplane after speaking at an event in Manchester, N.H., on April 27, 2023.

(Jabin Botsford / The Washington Post via Getty Images)

During Trump’s 2020 reelection campaign, Harp’s role was to talk about the Right to Try Act, said Sarah Matthews, a former deputy press secretary for Trump.

“I remember we would correspond over Twitter DMs, and she just seemed very excited to be helpful in any way,” Matthews said. At the time, it seemed Harp was trying to make inroads with staffers, she said.

“My role would not necessarily interact with her, but … I could tell that she was trying to initiate a connection,” she said.

Although it’s not clear who on the team found Harp, Matthews said she was “very eager” to help the campaign.

“They found this woman who was eloquent and well-spoken and all the things, but it did just come off to me like she really wanted to be part of Trump world,” Matthews said.

In intimate letters, Harp has explained her devotion to the 80-year-old president.

Natalie Harp listens as former President Trump speaks outside the courtroom during his trial on charges of covering up hush money payments, on April 30, 2024 in New York City.

(Curtis Means / Pool Photo)

In one letter, she writes that she is “unworthy” of Trump and reminisces about the times Trump called during her “Talkshow days,” a reference to her stint in 2021 hosting “The Real Story with Natalie Harp” on the right-wing One America News channel.

“We’d talk about everything and nothing,” she writes. “I want to get back to that synergy. We shouldn’t have to talk about work all the time!!”

She adds: “I always felt like an in-betweener, somewhere between Staff and those you enjoy talking to on the Plane or at Dinner, because that’s who I used to be to you when I was a ‘Talkshow Host’ (as much as I hated that actual job!)”

Ossoff’s ‘Natalie’ reference brings attention

The public attention on Harp sharpened this month when Jon Ossoff, a Democratic senator from Georgia, told supporters in Atlanta that Trump wanted to “build his ballroom and travel with Natalie” rather than do the work of the presidency. The remarks came after it became public that Harp had been one of a select few who joined Trump on an alternate plane flying out of Turkey as a precaution amid a threat of attack by Iran.

President Trump and Natalie Harp, right, attend a dignified transfer for service members killed during operations in the Middle East, at Dover Air Force Base in Dover, Del., on July 22.

(Lau Loeb / AFP via Getty Images)

Ossoff’s comment drew the ire of Trump allies, from Capitol Hill lawmakers to conservative influencers, with many of them blasting the comment as sexist and inappropriate.

Although the White House and Trump allies have fiercely defended Harp in public forums, and dismissed suggestions of an improper relationship, Trump has sidestepped questions about his aide.

“People can be very mean to successful, pretty women,” Luna said. “And that is what is happening to Natalie.”

In their book “Regime Change,” New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan write that Trump has told staff that Harp is the only one who loves him as much as his wife and kids.

“All of you will go off and make money,” Trump would say. “She’ll never leave me.”

Although Trump worked closely with other executive assistants during his first administration, Matthews said his relationship with Harp appears to be “a different level of closeness.”

President Trump,right, accompanied by Tiffany Trump’s husband, Michael Boulos, left, and aide Natalie Harp, center, looks out the window of Marine One as it lands on the South Lawn of the White House on Sept. 18, 2025.

(Andrew Harnik / Getty Images)

“I think it’s because of the way she fawns all over him and the love notes,” she said. “I think he just really trusts her. So she’s been able to, I think, develop an even closer bond.”

Despite the recent controversy, Harp remained by the president’s side during public appearances last week.

At the Freedom 250 Grand Prix in Washington on Aug. 23, Harp sat a few rows behind Trump and First Lady Melania Trump, chatting with the president’s son Eric. Days before that, she reportedly traveled with Trump to South Carolina for a campaign rally and to his northern Virginia golf club.

“She’s just all work,” Luna said. “She is one of the hardest workers and it is hard to find people who are like that.”

Natalie Harp looks on as President Trump visits the Mission Control Center at NASA Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center in Houston on Friday.

(Kent Nishimura / AFP via Getty Images)

Ceballos reported from Washington, Fry from Irvine.

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, seek help from a professional or call 988. The nationwide three-digit mental health crisis hotline will connect callers with trained mental health counselors. Or text “HOME” to 741741 in the U.S. and Canada to reach the Crisis Text Line.

Ukranian center Kate Koval will not return to Louisiana State’s basketball team next season, coach Kim Mulkey said in a statement released by the Tigers on Monday.

Koval’s decision to leave the program comes less than two weeks after LSU announced the signing of Russian teenager Anna Minaeva. Koval was born and raised in Kyiv, Ukraine’s capital city, and her father is a drone operator fighting against Russia in its four-year invasion of Ukraine. According to nola.com, Koval said last season that she worried for her father’s life “every single day.”

“Kate came to see me on Sunday and told me that after much consideration, she will be leaving the program for personal reasons,” Mulkey said in her statement. “We will respect her privacy on her decision, but we had a long talk about it, and it was a hard decision for her. I know it is hard because she loves LSU.

“Kate is a great person. She has to do what she feels is right for her, and we fully support her in that. We all wish her the best.”

No announcement has been made about a future basketball home for Kobal, a 6-foot-5 rising junior who played at Notre Dame as a freshman before averaging 8.3 points, 6.3 rebounds and 1.2 blocks for the Tigers last season.

Minaeva, also a 6-5 center, is 17 but has previously played professionally with MBA Moscow. Mulkey told nola.com that she spoke with Koval earlier in the offseason before starting the recruiting process with Minaeva.

“I want you to understand I’m not here to ask you to change how you feel about Russia,” Mulkey said she told Koval. “I’m just here out of respect for your family and out of respect for you to let you know. Because I know how personal it is for you.

“Know that what I have to do in this business, I cannot make a decision to not recruit somebody that can help our program because of a conflict between two countries.”

Aug. 24 (UPI) — Immigration officials arrested the father of a sailor on board the USS Abraham Lincoln, an aircraft carrier that’s come under scrutiny for conditions on board.

In a Facebook post Sunday, sailor Joshua Aviles said his father, Luis Manuel Aviles Roa of Nicaragua was arrested Saturday.

Department of Homeland Security officials told CBS News the arrest happened during a traffic stop in Key West, Fla. Luis Manuel Aviles Roa was in the custody of Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials and faced deportation proceedings.

“I just got a call that my dad was taken by ICE,” Joshua Aviles wrote. “If you know my dad, you know he is a hardworking, humble man who is always willing to help anyone if he can.

“This is heartbreaking for me. I don’t know how I can mentally continue working 12+ hour days knowing that my dad is somewhere, possibly being treated like a criminal.”

The USS Abraham Lincoln has been under an extended deployment to the Middle East and was en route back to the United States. The journey could take several weeks.

Luis Manuel Aviles Roa’s stepdaughter, Katty Delgado, told NBC News that he had been living in the United States for about two decades. She said she had no knowledge of any criminal history for her stepfather and that he had a pending immigration application seeking legal status.

“He’s doing everything the right way,” she told the outlet.

DHS did not deny that Luis Manuel Aviles Roa lacks a criminal record. Officials said that having “a family member in the military is not a free pass to violate our nation’s laws.”

“We are simply enforcing the laws passed by Congress,” the DHS statement said. “This administration does not pick and choose which laws to enforce.”

Long before he arrived at USC, a couple days shy of his 17th birthday, Ethan “Boobie” Feaster had always been in a hurry to grow up.

He was the baby of the Feaster family, seven years younger than his next youngest sibling. But nothing about his behavior, even as a kid, suggested as much. He was always quiet, calm, determined, seemingly from birth, according to his father, Lee. When Lee Feaster encouraged Boobie at age 8 to write down his goals, and “make ‘em plain,” Boobie took the advice literally. He went straight to his bathroom mirror and copied them down. They’re still written on the bathroom mirror, to this day.

When he was 9, Boobie asked his father to buy him a football poster. Lee came in later to find it attached to the ceiling, above his bed. He asked Boobie why.

“I need it to be the first thing I see when I wake up,” Lee recalled him saying, “and the last thing I see when I go to bed.”

This, needless to say, was not exactly normal behavior for a 9-year-old. But nothing about Boobie Feaster has ever been normal. Least of all the relentless drive that would one day have everyone at USC raving and others around the nation whispering about one of the most anticipated freshman in college football.

Neither is it normal exactly for USC’s offensive-minded coach, Lincoln Riley, to enter into a season so unproven at the receiver position.. With the status of No. 1 receiver Tanook Hines still unclear less than a week out from the season opener, USC will almost certainly have to rely on a group of talented freshman receivers to hit the ground running.

That includes Boobie, who at just 17 years and three months, will be the youngest among them by a wide margin. In fact, he may be the youngest ever to suit up at USC. Feaster is the school’s youngest player dating back to when USC started recording player birth dates.

But talk to those who know Boobie best, and they’ll tell you that age, in his case, is merely a number.

“He’s always been an old soul,” said Kerry Sweeney, the receivers coach at DeSoto High in Texas.

Sweeney met Boobie when he was in the seventh grade. He’d heard about the kid’s stellar football IQ, so he tried to stump him. He asked Feaster, then barely 12, to explain the difference between cover-2 and cover-3 defenses.

Boobie Feaster looks across the field during a youth football game. The USC receiver frequently played against older kids.

(Courtesy of Lee Feaster)

“He knew exactly what it was,” Sweeney said.

What Sweeney didn’t know was that when Lee Feaster, a football coach himself, was studying game film, Boobie was right there with him. He knew a lot more than coverage schemes.

Boobie had also been playing up one — or two even — age levels. In the seventh grade, he started working with a personal receivers coach, David Robinson of D-Rob Sports & Fitness Training. A year later, Robinson had Boobie, as an eighth grader, training with former NFL receivers, such as Dez Bryant, or college receivers on their way to the NFL.

“There was no polish or anything,” Robinson said. “But he was just a natural. Natural speed, natural length, naturally tall.”

But it was his mind that continued to mystify coaches most. Even at a young age, he made sure to concern himself with the minor nuances of the playbook and the receiver position. By the time he debuted as a freshman at DeSoto, coaches already trusted him to run choice routes, which gives the receiver multiple different options based on the defensive alignment.

By the state playoffs that season, Sweeney said that Boobie was already the best receiver on a team that would produce three Division 1 wideouts.

“He was dominating,” Sweeney said, “as a freaking freshman. “

It seemed clear to everyone around him, at that point, that Boobie could handle skipping a season of high school football. So after his sophomore season, Boobie reclassified from the Class of 2027, in which he was recognized as a top-five prospect in the nation, to 2026.

His relationship with USC receivers coach Dennis Simmons was solidified by that point. They’d been introduced when Boobie was in the seventh or eighth grade — and just beginning to blow up on social media. Simmons said he was impressed by Boobie’s maturity.

“He recruited Boobie really hard,” Robinson said. “That relationship is what really kind of jump-started USC as a front-runner.”

USC never relinquished that spot. But Feaster had to wait until he enrolled at USC this summer while the other talented pass-catchers in his class got a head start.

That’s not to say he wasn’t trying to get ahead in other ways.

Boobie Feaster reaches out to catch a pass during his youth training before arriving at USC.

(Courtesy of Lee Feaster)

Lee Feaster said that before his son’s arrival at USC, Boobie was obsessing for months over USC’s playbook. He worked flashcards with Robinson and sometimes made his father line up in the street in front of their house just to commit certain plays and alignments to memory.

“Oh, he knew the playbook,” Lee Feaster said. “He knew it before he got there.”

He’s opening eyes at USC practice. During a preseason scrimmage at the Coliseum last week, Boobie burst through a sliver in USC’s defense and took a tunnel screen to the house, reminding in one play exactly why USC’s coaches thought he was ready to contribute at 17.

“He was game-ready,” wideout Terrell Anderson said, “as soon as he came in.”

How quickly he’ll actually influence a game at USC remains to be seen. The Trojans are expected to play several freshmen against San José State on Saturday, and anyone who knows Boobie will tell you it’s only a matter of time before he contributes. After all, after starting in the slot, Feaster took it upon himself to start learning the outside receiver spot.

When Boobie moved to L.A. in May, his father tagged along, just to make sure he got acclimated. His mother came shortly after that.

And they’re reminded sometimes that Feaster is still just a teenager. That he’s still got a lot of growing to do. His goals are still written on his bathroom mirror, to remind him of that every day.

But if the past is any indication, it shouldn’t be long.

“I believe, like three games in, everyone is going to be saying, ‘Who’s this freshman?” Sweeney said. “Who’s this Boobie Feaster?’”

TOPEKA, Kan. — Nancy Kassebaum Baker, a Kansas governor’s daughter who became the first woman elected to the U.S. Senate without following a spouse into office, has died. She was 94.

Kassebaum Baker died Friday of natural causes, according to her son, Bill Kassebaum.

“She loved Kansas. She loved people from Kansas and representing Kansas for 18 years in the U.S. Senate,” he told the Associated Press. “She was an independent-minded Republican who was willing to stand up for what she thought was right, even if that meant going against the party.”

She was elected to the Senate in 1978 and served three terms. Her modest demeanor endeared her to voters of all political stripes, though she shared the moderate, progressive Republican politics of her father, Gov. Alf Landon, the unsuccessful 1936 GOP nominee for president. Even after leaving the Senate early in 1997, she continued taking on public service roles.

She married former Sen. Howard Baker, a Tennessee Republican, in 1996. He died in 2014.

Kassebaum Baker was widely admired among Kansans generally. She could work with Senate colleagues of all political philosophies, and a 1996 health insurance law bore her name, along with that of liberal Massachusetts Sen. Edward M. “Ted” Kennedy.

Part of a dwindling GOP bloc

Her election to the Senate brought her immediate national attention. When she announced her retirement, she was among eight women senators and the only one to chair a Senate committee, the Labor and Human Resources panel.

She was also in a dwindling bloc of moderate to liberal Republicans, having supported, for example, a ban on assault weapons championed by President Clinton.

Yet she never polarized Kansas conservatives as some GOP moderates did. She connected with voters because she never seemed caught up in the trappings of power, and when she retired, she acknowledged, “I’d rather cuddle up and do needlepoint all day.”

She was born on July 29, 1932, as her father, an oilman from Independence, was running for the first of his two terms as Kansas governor. She earned a political science degree from the University of Kansas and a master’s degree in diplomatic history from the University of Michigan in the mid-1950s.

She was a radio station executive, spent a year in the 1970s on the staff of Sen. James Pearson (R-Kan.) and served on the school board in the Wichita suburb of Maize. She had four children with her first husband, Phil Kassebaum, including Bill, who served a term in the Kansas House of Representatives. The marriage ended in divorce in 1979.

A moderate who sought sensible solutions

When Kassebaum Baker decided to run for the Senate, she figured that “a woman with a background different from a man might be appealing” to people growing weary of politics. Pundits at the time estimated a Senate race would require the then-huge-for-Kansas sum of $1 million. In the first quarter of 1978, she spent less than $12,000 on her campaign, and saw herself “at the bottom of the totem pole.”

But nine candidates crowded the primary field, including three state senators and a prominent Wichita businessman. Kassebaum Baker won the GOP nomination with less than 31% of the vote.

Running as Nancy Landon Kassebaum, she won almost 54% of the vote that November against former two-term Democratic congressman Bill Roy.

Her moderate politics quickly came to the fore, when only months later, she refused to endorse an amendment to the U.S. Constitution to require a balanced budget.

“We should be wary of the seemingly simple solution,” she said.

Her father, who would die at age 100 in 1987, still cast a long political shadow during her first years in office. Though Landon overwhelmingly lost the 1936 presidential race to Democratic incumbent Franklin D. Roosevelt, he later became an elder statesman for the Republican Party. A lecture series named for him at Kansas State University attracted presidents and foreign leaders.

Kassebaum Baker became even more popular in her time. She won reelection in 1984 with 76% of the vote and in 1990 with 74%.

But she frustrated conservative activists, despite her popularity. She said her vote in favor of the assault weapons ban inspired the angriest mail of her career.

A public servant to the end

She’d contemplated not seeking a third term, but Republican leaders had prevailed upon her to run one more time. In 1996, when she decided not to seek reelection, she said she would return to a ranch and 90-year-old farmhouse in Kansas’ scenic Flint Hills and babysit her grandchildren — she had seven, as well as two great-grandchildren.

When there briefly was talk of naming a new highway in Topeka after her, she said, “Oh, goodness. Absolutely not — no.”

She and Baker kept their romance low-key, and speculation about a possible marriage didn’t emerge until mid-1996, in a Washington Post story. They married that December.

It was the first time a man and a woman who had both served in the Senate had wed. Baker was elected to three terms, serving from 1967 to 1985 before becoming President Reagan’s chief of staff. His first wife, Joy, had died in 1993 after a long battle with cancer.

After the marriage, public service still beckoned, including as a member of a bipartisan commission on campaign finance reform under Clinton and on a British commission in Africa in 2004-05.

President George W. Bush named her husband ambassador to Japan in 2001, and she went with him for the four-year posting. Baker said she became an important figure in the Asian nation.

Before she left for Tokyo, she told a reporter she saw her stint in Japan as an adventure, but added, “All I can say is, I will miss the Kansas prairie.”

Not a fan of Trump

Later in life, Kassebaum Baker broke with the Republican Party as it became more conservative, endorsing Democratic candidates for Kansas governor and U.S. senator, including Democratic Gov. Laura Kelly both times — even though Kelly’s 2022 GOP opponent, then-state Atty. Gen. Derek Schmidt, had worked on her Senate staff.

In 2021, she supported the impeachment of President Trump for incitement of insurrection for his role in the Jan. 6 riot at the U.S. Capitol that sought to keep him in power after he lost the 2020 election to Democrat Joe Biden.

“This just has gone too far,” she told Kansas City’s KMBC.

Hanna writes for the Associated Press.