friend

A Northern California community college wrestling star slipped and fell to his death Sunday at Yosemite National Park, officials confirmed.

Santa Rosa Junior College sophomore Ryan George died in an apparent accident, his college coach, Fred Duerr, posted in a statement Tuesday.

The Santa Rosa Press Democrat broke the news Tuesday, saying the 19-year-old “was hiking with friends near Illilouette Falls in Yosemite when he reportedly slipped and fell to his death.”

“Details are limited right now, and it’s been a really hard time for us all trying to process everything,” Duerr said in the statement. “If you knew Ryan, you know he was one of the most genuine, positive people you could ever meet. He had this way of lighting up a room, making you feel welcome, and bringing out the best in everyone around him.”

Yosemite National Park officials did not immediately respond to an email seeking comment.

George is listed as a Santa Rosa native in the school’s media guide and graduated from Montgomery High School in that city.

Last season, he enjoyed a strong run through the state championship in the 197-pound division. He entered sixth-ranked and finished with five victories, including two falls, en route to third place.

His finish was impressive considering he lost in the second round of the double-elimination tournament.

George rallied with perhaps his best effort of championships, defeating No. 5-ranked Dominic Sanders Jr. with a pin in 2 minutes, 38 seconds, in elimination bracket action.

He picked up the bronze in that tournament by defeating teammate Joe Ellis via a 6-2 decision.

“He was an amazing leader and wrestler, but more than that, he was an amazing human — kind, loyal, funny, and the kind of friend everyone wishes they had in their life,” Duerr said. “We love you and we will miss you so much, Ryan. Thank you for everything you gave us all.”

A GoFundMe was established to aid George’s sister, Jaida.

Hayley Williams is speaking out days after her ex-husband, Chad Gilbert, the founding guitarist of pop-punk band New Found Glory, died at 45 following a battle with cancer.

Williams posted the statement on her Instagram Stories on Wednesday, writing that she hasn’t known what to say or “if it’s appropriate” but that she wants to address her former husband’s death because “life is made of the paths we cross and the reasons we cross them are infinite.”

“Chad is indeed a legend in the scene and my time connected to him taught me a lot,” she wrote. “He introduced me to people that continue to shape my life in beautiful ways, and to music and culture that has made life a lot richer.

“There isn’t much that hasn’t already been said about what he contributed to the musical world a lot of us grew up in. His influence and attitude guided the genre forward. His passion for fostering the community was inspiring and sticks with me.

“I will forever be grateful that from him I gained a deeper understanding and a reverence for the community and the culture of hardcore.”

Musician Chad Gilbert of New Found Glory and singer Hayley Williams of Paramore arrive at the 2010 People’s Choice Awards.

(Christopher Polk / Getty Images for PCA)

Williams concluded her statement by sending her love and sympathies to Gilbert’s family, friends and his New Found Glory bandmates Jordan Pundik, Cyrus Bolooki and Ian Grushka.

Gilbert died Sunday morning “peacefully in his sleep,” the band and his wife, musician Lisa Cimorelli, announced on social media. No cause of death was given, but the musician had been candid about his battle with cancer in recent years.

“He left this world surrounded by friends and family and took his final breaths with his wife and mother by his side, just as he wished,” the joint statement posted Sunday to Instagram read.

Williams and Gilbert were married in February 2016 after nearly a decade of dating but split the following year in July 2017, saying at the time that marriage wasn’t for the faint of heart.

Gilbert later married Cimorelli in October 2020, and the two welcomed a daughter, Lily, in 2021.

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.”

The Country Music Assn. will put on a two-hour live TV special honoring Dolly Parton, who died last month at the age of 80.

The association said Wednesday that the television tribute — titled “CMA Presents I Will Always Love You: A Celebration of Dolly Parton” — will be recorded live at the Fisher Center for the Performing Arts, on the campus of Belmont University in Nashville.

The tribute will air Oct. 21 at 6 p.m. Pacific on ABC and Disney+, and will stream on Hulu a day later.

In a news release, CMA described the special as a “joyful, emotional celebration” dedicated to Parton, the rhinestone-studded singer whose life began humbly, in a one-room cabin at the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains.

Robert Deaton, veteran executive producer of the Country Music Awards and Billboard Music Awards, will fill that role on the Parton project.

“Dolly gave Country Music its heart, and giving some of that heart back to her is an incredible honor,” said Deaton in a news release Wednesday. “My hope is simply that we do right by her story, her music and the people who love her, so that this evening feels like the tribute my friend deserves.”

Sarah Trahern, CMA chief executive, added that the tribute is the association’s “responsibility”: “This special is our way of saying thank you, on behalf of every artist, industry member and fan who found a piece of themselves in her music.”

The tribute is in partnership with Belmont University, which hosted the 2025 world premiere of “Dolly: A True Original Musical,” a biographical production about the “9 to 5” singer that is scheduled for its Broadway debut on Jan. 19, what would have been the Parton’s 81st birthday.

The university also previously launched “Dolly U,” an immersive educational partnership designed to connect students with hands-on opportunities in entertainment, media and creative industries.

Greg Jones, president of Belmont University, welcomed the special with a statement of his own: “It is a privilege to welcome artists, friends and fans from around the world to celebrate her extraordinary life and legacy from this stage in Nashville, honoring a woman whose love for Tennessee was woven into everything she did.”

Both the CMA and Belmont University will make a donation from the proceeds to Parton’s Imagination Library, which was launched by the Dollywood Foundation in 1995 to address childhood literacy by giving millions of children the gift of a free book each month. Disney will also support the program.

News of the television tribute follows an announcement last month by Parton’s estate that revealed plans for Dollyfest, a two-day celebration in Nashville and London next year across two consecutive weekends to honor her legacy.

Additional details for the CMA special, including performers and tickets, will be announced at a later date.

At age 14, Glen Walsh started surfing because of a crush. He was a boogie boarder until the object of his adoration told him, “What are you riding that for? You should be surfing. Get a surfboard.” So, he did. “I was terrible at it, but I kept going. I was super persistent.”

That resilience proved useful. As a gay teenager in Santa Monica, Walsh was often called slurs on the Venice Pier. “You think you’re like a unicorn — a weirdo,” he says. He felt at odds with the local surf community. To Walsh, surfing was “super straight, very hypermasculine, very intimidating.” Yet his love of the ocean — and sure, crush-worthy surfers — kept him returning to the water. “I wanted to be around them, and surf with them,” he says.

When Instagram launched in 2010, Walsh began posting one of his early loves — only this time, it was morning surf conditions. Every morning, before surfers paddled out, the longtime Venice resident described swells, winds and surf conditions to his followers, becoming for some the town’s trusted surf chronicler.

A “Surf Swim” sign greets beachgoers at Venice Beach — a stretch of coast where daily surf reports and grassroots organizing have helped break down traditional surf stereotypes.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

His videos combined informative dispatches with the laid-back vibe of surfer ASMR. “Light offshore wind. Clean, glassy barrels,” he declares softly to the camera as gray waves break behind him. “Lumpy close-out with hollow barrels with low tide, fam.”

At first, the account functioned like a group chat for local surfers. “Friends were asking me how the waves were, and I was texting them. I figured I’d jump on Instagram and start doing it for them,” says Walsh, who has been a Venice resident for 15 years.

What began as a practical update for a handful of friends eventually attracted followers in London, Berlin and Tokyo — people who checked in daily to see whether the surf was firing in Venice Beach. The account has amassed over 10,000 followers, inspiring imitator accounts. “Now it’s just for everybody,” says Walsh. “I built a community around the surf reports. It really blew me away. I didn’t realize that people were so interested.”

His surf reports have made him an unofficial mayor of Venice surf culture, getting recognized at the beach town’s local hangouts like Hinano Cafe and the Cow’s End. “People stop me and tell me they love my surf reports. They don’t even surf, but they see it every day,” says Walsh. “I always tell people I’m very popular between Washington Boulevard, Lincoln Boulevard and Rose Avenue.” His nickname around town is Glenice Venice.

However, the real triumph wasn’t becoming recognizable around Venice — it was finding other queer surfers, something that felt elusive in Walsh’s youth in Southern California. “I had met a lot of other surfers from all over the world and built a queer community of surfers here in L.A.,” says Walsh. “It was pretty awesome.”

Walsh saw an opportunity to use his surf report to not only report on the condition of the ocean — which is especially unpredictable during our current El Niño cycles — but to also create a burgeoning queer space in the Venice surf scene. “I could set up a community-based surf report for everybody, and the fact that I happen to be queer made it a little more unique,” he says. He began to connect with gay surfers, organizing trips with them and building lasting friendships. “It was just a lot of fun, building a little team.”

Later, Walsh became a co-producer and music supervisor of a movie about homophobia in surfing titled “Out in the Line-Up” that premiered at film festivals across the world in cities such as New York, San Francisco and Sydney, Australia. “The movie kind of spoke for itself. It was a worldwide issue — homophobia in surfing.” Since then, Walsh has served on panels about queer people in the surf world. Last June, the film had a 10th anniversary screening in Venice, hosted by the Venice Surfing Assn. “At some point, I brought some diversity to this culture. I put my name on it,” he says.

In recent years, others have joined Walsh’s efforts to create a burgeoning queer surf scene at Venice Beach. In 2020, Shelly Guidera relocated to Venice and noticed that there wasn’t a strong queer presence in surfing. “My friend and I were maybe the only queer people some of these surfers had ever seen,” she says. Shortly after, Guidera started Dream Team Surf, a collective for queer surfers to meet up and build camaraderie.

Its mission is simple. “It’s all of us looking out for each other,” Guidera says. “ Having a team of people makes the experience that much more enriching and safe.”

Surfers ride the waves near the Venice Pier, where Glen Walsh does his daily surf reports.

(Eric Thayer / Los Angeles Times)

Early on, Guidera was inspired by Walsh’s uplifting presence in the Venice surf scene. “This person is respected in the community for what he brings, which is knowledge and insight and fun and flair,” says Guidera. In turn, Walsh has championed Dream Team Surf.

In January 2025, Dream Team Surf hosted a Pride beach party with a banner that read: “Trans bodies belong on the beach.” In some San Diego area beaches, Guidera says, queer representation can still feel like an anomaly. “It’s so funny because it’s like these people have maybe never seen a woman in a bathing suit with hairy legs,” she says. “I’m like, ‘Oh my God, it’s not that deep.’”

Guidera is certified in surf therapy, taking courses through Groundswell Community Project, a surf therapy program that uses surf to promote holistic healing. The mental health benefits of surfing are lifelong, Guidera explains. “Growing up as a swimmer, surfing was a form of play and wellness,” she says. “It eased the brakes on competition and the structure within competitive swimming.”

Group photo of Dream Team Surf, which hosted a Pride beach party.

(Sara Werner)

Even if you don’t shred waves, being in the ocean can promote healing. “To give people access to the ocean that is in and of itself a form of wellness,” she says. “There’s a level of surrender and humility that comes with surfing and that comes with being in nature. … You have to be so present in such a way that makes you a stronger person.”

Like Guidera, Walsh also works as a surf instructor with a similar goal to instill confidence in his students. “I was teaching a lot of people to surf, mostly women who didn’t want a straight man to teach them how to surf because it feels vulnerable enough,” says Walsh. “I try to break down the stereotypes and have a little fun with them and let them become a kid again.”

When done correctly, he argues, surfing can invite expansiveness. “I love seeing people out there. Feel the fear and do it anyway,” says Walsh. “And creating a lifestyle around it — going to different beaches — and meeting friends.”

GEMMA Owen has revealed she’s split from her multi-millionaire boyfriend Red Morgan.

The Love Island star and equestrian, 23, called time on her romance with the property tycoon heir, 22, in June shortly after the death of a close family friend.

Speaking on her latest vlog, she said: “We had some really sad news of a really close family friend. He passed away really suddenly and unexpectedly.

“And within a day or two, Red and I split up, which I’m obviously not going to go into too much detail about either of the things because they’re both personal.”

Gemma, who is the daughter of football legend Michael Owen, insisted she and Red remain good friends but ultimately weren’t on the same page as far as romance was concerned.

“Red and I are on good terms,” said Gemma. “We’re friends. It was a mutual decision and ultimately we just came to a bit of a crossroads and we wanted different things out of the relationship.

owen-ing it

Inside Gemma Owen’s quiet re-brand as she tries to erase Love Island past

not so stable

Worrying moment Gemma Owen is flung off horse into barrier like a ragdoll

“We didn’t want to waste anyone’s time if we weren’t both sort of aligned with what we want. So yeah, that’s what’s been going on. It’s been, as you can imagine, a pretty hard few weeks, months.”

Following the split, Gemma spent time with family and friends and said she focused on herself.

The Sun revealed Gemma and Red were an item in April last year while they were on a luxury holiday in Dubai.

Red is a talented showjumper having represented Great Britain in the European Championships at youth level.

His dad Steve, 73, featured on the latest Sunday Times rich list with an estimated fortune of £935million.

He founded housebuilding company Redrow and is an ex-chairman of Wolverhampton Wanderers.

Iva Jovic outlasted the fellow young tennis sensation from the Philippines, Alex Eala, in an epic three-hour showdown.

American teen Iva Jovic was moved to tears while talking about her off-court friend and on-court opponent Alex Eala, whom she beat in a three-set thriller to enter the round of 16 at the US Open.

Jovic outlasted the fellow young tennis sensation from the Philippines in an epic three-hour showdown on Saturday to book a meeting with fourth-seeded former champion Coco Gauff.

The 14th-seed Jovic won five of the last six games for a 7-5, 3-6, 7-5 triumph over 17th-seed Eala after three hours and three minutes.

“That felt like a marathon, and I felt like I lost my sanity five times over to win that match,” Jovic said. “But it’s really worth it for this feeling.”

Two of the top rising stars of women’s tennis made their Arthur Ashe Stadium debut a memorable battle that featured 17 service breaks in 33 games.

“That match, definitely the way it finished, deserved that court,” Jovic said.

“It literally took everything to somehow squeeze my way through that.”

When the emerging US tennis star’s win was sealed, her Filipina friend went around the court to congratulate her instead of waiting at the net as players usually do at the end of tennis matches.

When Jovic was asked about Eala’s gesture in her post-match news conference, the American was moved to tears and said it showed her friend’s character.

“It says a lot about her as a person,” Jovic said while wiping away tears. “I’m gonna start crying, but it says a lot about her as a person to be able to do that after that type of match and still come over to hug me and wish me all the best. And even in the locker room behind closed doors … so that just says a lot about her and her character. Yeah, she’s incredible.”

Jovic, 18, and Eala, 21, are friends and sometimes doubles partners, knowing each other’s skills and style well. That helped produce seven service breaks in the first 11 games.

“I’m usually not one that shows that many emotions, but this one really meant a lot to me. It’s everything to have another match here at the US Open,” Jovic said.

That match will be against compatriot Gauff, the 2023 US Open and 2025 French Open champion.

“I’m going to be more than happy to just bring this fight and this energy, and whatever happens I can leave with my head high,” Jovic said.

‘Put on a show’

Jovic broke four times to win the first set but was broken three times by left-hander Eala to drop the second.

“The level was absolutely incredible from both sides,” Jovic said.

“We definitely put on a show, and it literally took everything to get through that … losing my earrings, falling literally flat-out on the floor, cuts on my knees, mental breakdowns,” she said.

Eala admitted: “I had my chances. I’m happy with the match in general. Of course there is disappointment in losing, but trying to see the positive side. It was a really good match. The level was really high.

“I left everything out there. I fought through the ups and downs … What I know for a fact is that I fought, so I’m happy with that.”

A quarterfinalist at this year’s Australian Open, Jovic won her first WTA title last year in Guadalajara at age 17.

She beat Eala at the French Open and Queen’s Club in London earlier this season in their prior meetings, but that was before Eala won her first WTA title at Washington.

“She played an outrageous level tonight. She was serving very good. She was showing a lot more versatility with her returns,” Jovic said of Eala.

“She’s playing some of the best tennis in the world right now, so it’s no doubt it takes a hell of an effort to beat her.”

The truth about the last words uttered by Australia’s famed ‘Crocodile Hunter’ have now been laid bare, two decades after the Wildlife Warrior’s untimely death

A close confidant of legendary eco-warrior Steve Irwin has detailed the Aussie icon’s final moments, just as he realised death was moments away.

September 4 marks the anniversarry of Irwin’s untimely death. The passionate animal lover was known around the world for his infectious approach to conservation, capturing hearts with his zoo, TV show, and adoration for all creatures great, small, and even scaly.

It’s been two decades since Irwin’s shock death, and family and friends have paid tribute to a man considered an icon and animal-loving legend Down Under.

ICYMI: Irwin died while doing what he loved; he was out on Australia’s famed Great Barrier Reef off the coast of Cairns, filming a nature documentary about stingrays when he copped a barb to the heart from the very creature he was there to film.

Cameraman Justin had been filming the crocodile hunter at sea when disaster struck. Speaking on 60 Minutes’ Steve Irwin: A Wild Life, Justin revealed the devastating moment Steve realised he was dying, and his final moments.

Justin told the programme: “We zipped around for 10-15 minutes before we found the stingray. And then, it was like, okay, game on. I mean, we’d only filmed with stingrays a hundred times before. They were awesome to film with. So we both slipped over the side of the rubber ducky and, yeah, started filming this amazing massive — it was massive — bull ray.

“Anyway, we chatted about the final shot, which would be the opening shot, because by now, the stingray was calm. It had buried itself in the sand. I said, ‘We’ll start this thing. I’ll just be close in front of this stingray. I’ll be a couple of metres from it. You go round behind it and swim up behind it.'”

Justin went on: “He swims up, swims over the top of it. It doesn’t move. But as he’s directly over the top of it, of course, it thought he was a tiger shark and started stabbing madly towards him with its tail. The water just boiled. I couldn’t see anything that was going on. Bubbles and thrashing.

“And then, all of a sudden, it stopped. The stingray swam away, the water calmed, so I just panned with the stingray. And as I let it go out of shot, as I panned back to Steve, he came jumping up out of the water, screaming, and the water around him is now full of blood.

“And he screamed out, ‘It’s punctured my lung!’ I threw the camera into one of the rubber duckies, dragged Steve into the boat. His khaki shirt is open, and he’s just got blood pouring out of a gash like that in his chest, right over his heart. But he’s conscious, and he says to me, looks me right in the eye, and he says, ‘I’m dying’.”

Bindi was just eight years old when her father died, and she shared a video of him as he recounted “the most incredible wildlife encounter of my life” – the birth of his daughter. Bindi said: “Twenty years ago, today, the world lost the most passionate and dedicated wildlife conservationist. Our family lost our superhero. My mum lost the love of her life; my brother and I lost the greatest dad.

“Grief never truly leaves us; we walk alongside it every day. Where there is enormous grief, there is even greater love.I always thought that my dad’s legacy is wildlife conservation; it turns out, his legacy is love. For our planet and for each other.”

Bindi added that her five-year-old daughter watches her grandfather’s documentaries every morning and feels “utterly loved by her ‘grandpa crocodile’, despite never meeting him. She went on “My dad left a lasting impact so poignant that it will ripple out for generations to come. I believe with my whole heart that his love will live on forever.

“Dad, I love you with my whole heart. Thank you for being our guardian angel. And most of all, thank you for watching over my daughter now, too. She loves you so much. We all do.”

Robert also shared a snap of him and his father with the caption: “Your legacy is forever.” Terri, also remembered her final few weeks with her husband, saying “grief still walks with me like my shadow”. She said: “With the passing of time I have gained more perspective and understanding. We were together as a family, on our crocodile research expedition, for what was to be our final six weeks together.

“Ours was to be a long and sweet goodbye. Steve spent time with Bindi and Robert building swings and climbing trees. We all slowed down. Time slowed down. I believe that all of us, every one of us, gets to say goodbye.

“We just may not know that we’re saying it. Hold every moment dear with the ones you love. Until we meet again.”

Ten years ago, I went with my older daughter and a group of her classmates to see Gloria Steinem speak. Though they were part of a feminist group recently formed at their all-girls Catholic high school, some were not quite sure who Gloria was, exactly. My daughter knew her mostly as my former “boss”; my first job out of college had been as an editorial assistant at Ms. magazine. That was back in the ‘80s — ancient history.

I was a tiny bit nervous about how the evening would go. Gloria herself was in her 80’s by then; how would she connect with a group of teenagers who had come of age post-post-everything in a social media world of makeup tutorials, fit checks, and so much rage bait?

By being precisely herself, as it turned out. Calm and witty, impassioned and informed, clear-eyed yet hopeful, Gloria enthralled them — and the entire audience — for almost two hours. By the time we left, the girls were ready to follow her anywhere.

“She’s a rock star,” my daughter breathed.

That she was. Gloria Steinem did not invent feminism, not even its second wave, but for many years she was its most recognizable frontwoman. Tall, slender, with (for many years) aviator glasses framed by her signature long, straight hair, she was the Jackie Kennedy of the women’s movement: a physical dismissal of all those childish critics who deride feminists as an army of unlovely and unloved women, devoid of humor and, most likely, surrounded by far too many cats.

Even so, how she looked was beside the point. No feminist I know ever wanted to look like Gloria; we all wanted to be like her. Smart, funny, incisive, generous and, perhaps above all, unflappable.

For an activist organizer, she had a low center of gravity. Her speech was measured, her tone was mellow — even when calling out the most outrageous hypocrisies, the most sinister forms of oppression, she rarely if ever raised it. Though by her own admission she was often furious about many things, her sharpest weapon was always a deadly talent for stating the obvious. “If women could sleep their way to the top, there‘d be a lot more women at the top.” “I have yet to hear a man ask for advice on how to combine marriage and a career. ” “A pedestal is as much a prison as any small, confined space.” “This is what 40 [or 50] looks like.”

She believed in shaping the future by being fearlessly frank about the present and the past. For more than seven decades, she helped millions strip away the veils of hierarchy, patriarchy and all the stories spun about gendered expectations to confront the actual experience of women’s lives. “If the shoe doesn’t fit, must we change the foot?”

She never incited anger; she simply pointed out the facts as she saw them and let human nature take its course. “The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.”

Gloria listened as much as she spoke, and with great attention and democracy. When I worked at Ms., she was always running late, invariably having been pulled into some conversation or other. Her assistant groaned over her calendar; Gloria would say “yes” when asked for help, even if it meant being two places at once.

She often came in for staff meetings to which everyone was invited and, when discussing ideas for future issues, would ask for, and attentively listen to, the opinions of even a lowly editorial assistant like myself. Her interest was sincere, astonishing and made for very long meetings. Wherever she went, it was the same. She needed to know what all manner of women thought about a wide variety of topics. More important, she wanted them to learn the habit of speaking up. In a private meeting or a public forum, to colleagues, politicians, friends, the boss or even a feminist icon, she wanted women to be unafraid of saying what they thought.

When I worked at Ms., and for many years after, people would invariably ask me: “What’s Gloria Steinem like?” and it was, and remains, impossible to describe. She was kind when she didn’t need to be, generous with her attention when no one expected it. She didn’t want laws and social constructs to be fairer, less dangerous, more fulfilling for women as a concept; she wanted it for you, for me, for the lady in the back row.

She gave aura but also advice about where to find discount shoes. She instantly claimed any room she entered and then made sure there were snacks. She believed that the world could change, that with work, we could change it. But she also believed in having fun; otherwise why bother?

On the day Gloria Steinem died at 92, I awoke to a text from one of the friends I made all those years ago at Ms.; soon there were four of us on the thread. I had just arrived in New York to take my youngest daughter back to college, and we had planned to meet one of those friends in Union Square at noon. Instead, we met at Gloria’s brownstone and laid flowers along the fence outside her door. It seemed the least we could do.

My youngest never got to hear Gloria speak and, at 19, she is too young to know who Gloria was, exactly. Which was always the point of all that Gloria did. She didn’t want the future to feel beholden to the past; she just wanted it to be better. And despite the recent setbacks, particularly in reproductive rights, and all the work that still has to be done, it is.

There stood my daughter. Like her sister, she never doubts for one minute that she is a first-class citizen, entitled to equal rights, bodily autonomy, basic respect and a life of her choosing. God help the poor souls who try to tell them different.

“She’s a big part of why you are here,” I tell her. “Of why your life at 19 is so better than mine was, and why mine, at 19, was so much better than hers.”

That’s not just a rock star; that’s a revolutionary.

Almost every day, quarterback and left-handed ace pitcher Joe Bell looks out on the La Cañada High football field and sees faces so familiar he might as well be taken back in time to the days of playing in the sandbox, in the street, in the backyard or at the local park.

It’s so fun as a high school senior to know the person at your side has been your friend and teammate for years. It’s the magic of going to your neighborhood school and being a multi-sport athlete.

There’s his younger brother, Jake, a sophomore middle linebacker and his catcher since birth. There’s Brandon Mohaghegh, a receiver and outfielder; Chase Regan, a running back and second baseman; Ross Piken, a receiver and pitcher; Ethan Wong, a right offensive tackle and designated hitter; and Caythan Kim, a left offensive tackle and.outfielder.

They know each other from Little League days and earlier.

Yes, the group likes to go take batting practice together before football practice, and everyone agrees it’s the coolest thing.

“It’s crazy,” said Bell, who’s 21 of 29 passing for the 2-0 Spartans and was the Rio Hondo League baseball player of the year with an 11-2 record and 1.71 ERA last season. “It’s impressive. We go to the locker room, change our stuff and leave our gear. Playing multiple sports is the best thing you can do as a kid. It’s completely doable to do both. And if you don’t you’re missing out.”

Said football coach David Avramovich: “It’s very common for them playing long toss or being in the cage once or twice a week. They’re walking by with their bats.”

Thanks to Avramovich and baseball coach Nathan Bernstein each being multiple-sports advocates, everyone is on the same page supporting each other. Avramovich sits in the parent section for baseball games; Bernstein stands on the sideline during football games.

“It’s really good for them to take a break,” Avramovich said of his football and baseball players.

The Bells are a family of three siblings with great grades and great parents. Jake has a twin sophomore sister who plays volleyball and softball.

“I need 30 Bells,” Avramovich said. “They’re all awesome.”

Quarterback Joe Bell of La Canada runs for yardage. He’s also a standout left-handed pitcher in baseball.

(Lisa Mattmann)

Joe Bell, with a 4.1 grade-point average, is living the life of someone ready to be a Division I college athlete but comfortable and thriving in his neighborhood setting while going from one sport to the next.

“I’ve always played as many sports as I can,” he said. “I played soccer, pick-up basketball, baseball. I actually credit my success in sports keeping it fun. I go to the park to throw a football with my friends, then go play hoops in some backyard.”

Bell is 6 feet 1, 185 pounds and loves being left-handed.

“It’s pretty nice,” he said. “It’s like being an anomaly. I would go to these football and baseball camps, ‘Is anyone a lefty?’ It was great being in that special group.”

For the first time, his brother, Jake, will be his catcher on varsity.

“Jake’s a Dawg,” Joe said. “It’s like playing catch in the backyard mound we built. I’ve been playing with him since the beginning. I’d say, ‘Jake, do you want to catch a bullpen?’’’

If Jake says no, it will be the first time.

If anyone is not inspired by the Bells and their friends, then you need to think back to the way high school sports used to be with the focus on having fun and winning with your neighborhood friends.

At La Cañada with this group, it’s Back to the Future and a return to the 1980s.

Texts lit up my phone this morning from friends who had wasted most of their lives rooting for the Angels: Arte Moreno finally was selling the team.

“First order of business: it’s the Anacrime Angels,” Nelson Rodriguez cracked before sending a meme of Stringer Bell in “The Wire” wearing an old-school California Angels cap and saying, “I want you to put the word out there that we back up.”

“This news honestly made my year,” texted Anaheim City Councilmember Natalie Rubalcava, who graduated a year ahead of me from Anaheim High and whose daughter works at my wife’s restaurant. “Excited to leave the controversy and negativity behind and look forward to a new era of Anaheim baseball.”

“Shame this didn’t happen when [Shohei] Ohtani was an Angel,” the Mountain shared on a group text thread of childhood friends who call each other by long-standing nicknames — I’m the Consigliere.

“I get invited to the games but hell no,” replied the Butcher, who’s been a fan since the days of Hall of Famer Nolan Ryan in the 1970s.

“I’ll finally go back” to a game in person, my cousin Plas added. “A Trumper [Latino] what could’ve gone wrong …” he wrote, referencing Moreno, before asking if Kurt Suzuki was still manager because “that’s how little I’ve kept up with the team.”

Those are the texts I can print in a family newspaper.

Moreno is selling to Los Angeles Rams owner Stan Kroenke, whose company also owns perennial contenders in the NBA (Denver Nuggets), NHL (Colorado Avalanche) and England’s Premier League (Arsenal). Sources told my colleagues that the price was $4 billion, which would be a baseball record and speaks to the Halos’ untapped potential.

Major League Baseball still needs to approve the deal, but I guarantee that Commissioner Rob Manfred and the 29 other team owners are reacting with the silly swaying dance that Dodgers players do every time they get on base.

“The Moreno Family has been honored to steward the Angels for 23 years,” the soon-to-be-ex-Angels owner said in a statement.

You stewarded nada, Arte: You destroyed.

You started with so much hope and ended up with fans like my friends shooting venom at you like pissed-off cobras. There’s a reason why you’ll leave as one of the most loathed owners in baseball history. Your underperforming reign makes the McCourts of Dodgers infamy seem as amazing and beloved as the O’Malleys.

Not even Shohei Ohtani, at spring training when he played for the Angels in 2023, could change the team’s fortunes under Moreno.

(Morry Gash/Associated Press)

The Tucson native, who made his billions in the billboard industry, bought the Angels from Disney in 2003, the year after they won their sole World Series championship. At a festive press conference, Moreno handed a sombrero to then-skipper Mike Scioscia to wear, then announced that the first order of business was to cut beer prices.

The new owner quickly signed the best players in baseball — slugger Vladimir Guerrero and pitcher Bartolo Colón. Moreno walked Angel Stadium during games to ask fans what they wanted, what they needed, what they dreamed of. That first decade, he made the Angels what they never had been for a prolonged period: winners.

Fans packed the stands — more than 3 million each year from 2003 to 2019, the third-longest streak in baseball. Anaheimers donned Halos jerseys and hats like never before. More incredibly, Moreno was at the cusp of the impossible: convincing a generation of Latino baseball fans in Orange County to side with the Halos instead of the Dodgers.

But there were always signs that something was off.

Moreno renamed the team the Los Angeles Angels two years after he bought them, a ridiculous moniker that made them a national punchline. The renaming also cost Anaheim millions of dollars in legal fees after the city unsuccessfully sued to force Moreno to keep my hometown in the team’s name.

Moreno openly talked about moving the Angels to a city that would build him a new stadium. He also fell into the terrible habit of signing conservative-leaning, past-their-prime ballplayers like Josh Hamilton, Albert Pujols and Anthony Rendon to massive contracts that weighed down the team for years, like one of Angel Stadium’s legendary cinnamon rolls.

Die-hards like my pals trudged on, buoyed by generational talent Mike Trout and the occasional flash-in-the-pan prospect. But even they were turned off by the last three years.

Former Anaheim mayor Harry Sidhu pleaded guilty in 2023 to federal tax evasion charges stemming from accusations that he solicited an illegal $1-million campaign donation for an attempted sale of city-owned Angel Stadium to a Moreno-led company.

That same year, the Halos let Ohtani — who was on his way to a second most valuable player award and already had established himself as one of the most talented baseball players ever — walk away as a free agent while gaining nothing in return.

This season kicked off with Moreno telling the Orange County Register about a survey supposedly revealing that winning wasn’t “a top priority” for Angels fans. The Angels hadn’t made the playoffs in 11 years, hadn’t finished with a winning record since 2015, had landed in last place in their division for the last two years — and that’s what he offered as a speck of hope? No wonder the team is on pace to lose 100 games for the first time in franchise history. No wonder disgusted fans have protested both inside and outside Angel Stadium all summer.

At the only game I went to this year — a sparsely attended afternoon snoozer against the Chicago White Sox — I found the stadium more beat-up than ever: peeling paint, beat-up seats, tinny PA system. For about $25 each, my friends and I bought tickets behind the first-base dugout that would have cost hundreds of dollars at Dodger Stadium.

Billboards along Southern California freeways have broadcast the Angels’ desperate attempts to draw in fans via pathetic promotions. Fireworks every Saturday. A bobblehead giveaway of light-hitting shortstop Zach Neto, who never has made an All-Star team. A “yard sale” that sounds like a giant casting off of crappy memorabilia a week away from the trash can.

Angels fans wave signs and urge owner Arte Moreno to sell the team to an ownership group willing to invest more in winning during a pregame protest at Angel Stadium.

(Joaquin Ruiz / For The Times)

I never cared for the Angels, but I always wanted them to do well. Any success they achieved rubbed off on my hometown, as it did during that magical 2002 run.

I also wanted Moreno, the first Latino to own a major professional sports team, to succeed, so his fellow Trump supporters might know that our kind can excel at the highest echelons of American society, if only we get the chance.

But for the last few years, I cheered each time the Angels lost. I wanted them to tank, to forever seal Moreno’s legacy as a loser. To serve as a warning to all professional sports owners that they can abuse a host city and its fan base for only so long before people revolt by just not caring.

Good luck to Kroenke as he tries to resuscitate a franchise deader than a stump in the Petrified Forest.

Shelley Fabares’ cause of death has been revealed.

Fabares was known best for her television roles , including Christine Armstrong on the ’90s sitcom “Coach,” Francine Webster on the 1970s sitcom “One Day at a Time” and Mary Stone on “The Donna Reed Show,” as well as her Billboard Hot 100 song “Johnny Angel” and appearances opposite Elvis Presley in “Spinout,” “Clambake” and “Girl Happy.”

The actor died Saturday in Los Angeles surrounded by loved ones after battling pneumonia, her family told The Times on Thursday. In the 1990s, Fabares fell ill, but doctors struggled to pin down what the problem was. After years of health problems, she was diagnosed with autoimmune hepatitis. Doctors ultimately discovered severe liver deterioration, and she spent nearly two years on a waiting list for a liver transplant. She received the lifesaving surgery in the fall of 2000.

In 2011, Fabares told PBS Houston that after suffering liver failure and facing death, her outlook on life completely changed. “It really brought home the fragility of life and how fast everything can change and how extraordinarily lucky we are to be alive, and to have this opportunity to be here, and in my case, to get really an entire second chance,” she said during the appearance. “It does make things more precious.”

She said that, after the close call and lengthy recovery, she feared death less.

“To her family and friends, Shelley was a source of love, strength, laughter, and comfort,” Fabares’ husband, “MASH” actor Mike Farrell, said in a statement.

“She was a devoted wife, cherished stepmother, daughter, sister, niece, aunt, family member, and loyal friend whose warmth, generosity, humor, and grace made an enduring difference in the lives of everyone who knew her. She had a remarkable ability to make people feel welcomed, valued, and cared for.

“For millions, Shelley was a beloved actress whose work became part of the fabric of American television and film. … But to those closest to her, her greatest legacy was personal: the love she gave so freely, the friendships she treasured, and the family bonds she held dear.

“We will remember Shelley for her kindness, loyalty, wit, courage, and beautiful spirit. We will miss her deeply — not only as a celebrated performer, but as the loving and extraordinary person she was in our everyday lives.

“We are heartbroken by her loss, yet profoundly grateful for the years we shared with her and for the joy, compassion, and love she brought to so many. We ask that our family’s privacy be respected as we grieve. We take comfort in knowing that Shelley’s work and the memories she created with those who loved her will continue to live on.”

She is survived by her husband and her daughter, Erin.