For large spells of Mackenzie Dern’s see-saw UFC career, she lacked a key characteristic that defines many champions.
After making her debut in the promotion in 2018, the American-Brazilian had a magnificent start where she won six of her first seven fights to get to the cusp of a title shot.
Dern was tipped to be the strawweight division’s next big star, following in the footsteps of greats such as Joanna Jedrzejczyk, Rose Namajunas and Zhang Weili, but four defeats in her next six fights saw her crowning moment put on ice.
Looking back, the 33-year-old puts her defeats down to a lack of composure.
“I’ve always been – and people who have seen my fights think it – an emotional fighter,” Dern tells BBC Sport.
“So I come out nice and technical but after two or three punches land, I would go into red mode and go forward.
“Basically the whole strategy goes out the window.”
It wasn’t until 2024 that a change in Dern’s social life coincided with her growth as a fighter.
Dern started playing no-limit Texas hold’em poker – a card game that mixes elements of gambling, mathematics and psychology.
She only plays outside of training camps, but since starting has won three straight fights, including victory over Virna Jandiroba last October to realise her dream of becoming a UFC champion.
Dern says the skills she learned altered her mindset when it came to training, sparring and competition.
On Saturday at UFC 330 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Dern will be hoping to apply what she’s learned in the first defence of her belt against Canada’s Gillian Robertson.
“In poker you need to be able to control your emotions. There’s times I’d have a pair of aces and go all in, but then no-one jumps in and you get very little money for it,” says Dern.
“You have to learn how to extract and read people, and that’s something I’ve been able to put into my fighting.
“I’ve learned how to be more calm. Poker is a patience game. That emotional part and reading people is something I didn’t have but since poker, I’ve been able to implement that into my fighting.”
Although Dern has found success in poker, it comes with risks – such as problem gambling.
A 2018 study published in Australia found 39% of the regular poker players it surveyed had moderate to severe gambling problems, while about a quarter had caused financial problems for themselves or their households.
The White House said in a report on Thursday that more than 40 countries have helped China sidestep US tariffs by routing exports through nations that face lower American import duties.
The countries named include Canada, India, Mexico, Japan and South Korea, which the White House said had helped China evade tens of billions of dollars in tariffs.
White House trade adviser Peter Navarro said it had cost “American jobs and billions in revenue”.
A spokesperson for the Chinese embassy in Washington said in response to BBC queries that “trade wars have no winners” and that it opposes the US’ tariff measures and the use of state power to target China’s companies.
The spokesperson added that “any unilateral actions or agreements concerning transshipped goods must not target or harm the interests of third parties.”
The BBC has contacted the US embassies of Canada, India, Mexico, Japan, South Korea and other trading partners listed in the report for comment.
The report follows a wave of sanctions between the US and China and comes weeks before President Donald Trump will meet Chinese leader Xi Jinping in Washington.
According to government and private sector estimates quoted by the White House, between $30bn (£22.2bn) and roughly $300bn in goods have been moved from countries with higher tariff through those with lower rates.
The process is known as transshipping, which refers to the practice of transferring cargo through another country while en route to a final destination.
The US accused China of “taking advantage” of the practice by moving goods through nations that have lower duties.
China has used third countries as a stopover and has repackaged goods to hide their real origin to obtain lower tariffs, said the White House in its report, describing the process as “fraud cloaked in paperwork”.
“What has changed in today’s Great Transshipment Scam is not merely the speed and scale of this modern form of smuggling, but the breadth, depth, and sophistication of the global Shadow Transshipment Network through which China’s tariff evasion now moves,” the White House wrote.
The US has deployed artificial intelligence (AI) tools to catch transshipment efforts, it added.
The report is expected to add to key sticking points between the sides as Trump and Xi prepare to meet in the US in September.
Despite a pause in most tariffs following talks in May 2025, Washington and Beijing have continued to exchange sanctions, including restrictions on humanoid robots shipped to the US and tighter Chinese curbs on drone exports.
In April 2025, Trump unveiled sweeping levies on dozens of US trading partners based on a long-held belief that tariffs will help boost American jobs and the economy.
Those sanctions have since been struck down by the US Supreme Court, but Trump has repeatedly introduced new tariffs using alternative legal levers to continue his signature policy.
“Everything’s so sad,” the actor explains. “Not taking yourself seriously is the only way, because otherwise I would just be upset, especially as a Black woman in the year 2026. I hate when people are on ‘The Bachelor’ and they’re like, ‘I love laughing,’ but it’s true. I really love it.”
Williams, 37, knows a thing or two about making others laugh. A three-time Emmy nominee for supporting actress in a comedy series for her work on “Shrinking,” she’s made an art of it. On a show about grief and mental health, Williams is often on hand to bring the funny.
Curled up in a chair on the top floor of The Times’ offices in El Segundo, looking down on the runways of LAX boiling in the late July sun, Williams gives runway fierceness against the beige office walls. She is just like the pop of bubblegum pink polish on her toenails as she strikes a pose in a chic all-black linen ensemble — a delightful burst of cheer in a subdued environment, something effervescent amid so much inoffensive sameness. She’s always been that way.
I would know; I’ve known her since we were 12 years old, awkward adolescents in Marcia Barryte’s Dodson Middle School drama class. As we catch up, I remind her of a PG-13 scene she caused in eighth grade science class during an earthquake drill. (To be fair, the drama students were asked to play standardized patients, and she was assigned “hysteria.”) While the class collected our backpacks, she broke into an award-worthy performance, wailing about not wanting to die a virgin.
“No!” she gasps, covering her mouth but unable to hide the mischievous grin that’s broken across her face at the memory. “That’s very inappropriate. I love that.”
Under slightly different circumstances, it’s a storyline that could belong to her “Shrinking” character, Gaby Evans, a therapist who brings her sunny demeanor, audacious sense of humor and enviable stores of energy into every room. That’s partly because so much of who Gaby is has been carefully honed by the writers and Williams to align with the actor’s voice.
“We can write almost anything and Jessica can make it sound like it has stemmed from Gaby,” says series co-creator Bill Lawrence. “She’s in charge of Gaby’s voice — and it’s a tremendous safety net for us as a writing staff.”
Jessica Williams in “Shrinking.”
(Apple TV)
Williams agrees this has been her experience, one she’s grateful for in an industry often dead set on ignoring perspectives like hers. “At the end of the day, white guys are in charge of this business,” she says. “Progress in film and TV requires them to go to bat for us. I feel really lucky to be on a show where Bill pulled me aside and was like, ‘If I’m doing my job right, the first couple episodes, we write these stories, and then, there’s a moment where it switches to being your character and you are the shepherd of her.’ It made it really collaborative and a safe space for me to play.”
Three seasons in, the set has become the world’s best playground. For instance, the writers gave Williams ample runway in a scene where Gaby turns the tables and proposes to her boyfriend, Derek (Damon Wayans Jr.), after discovering an engagement ring in a desk drawer (and getting it stuck on her finger). “Look, if you’re a television writer and you have a proposal scene and you don’t let Jessica Williams run with it, you’re cheating yourself,” quips Lawrence.
That mutual trust doesn’t mean that Gaby and Williams are the same person — just that Williams’ lived experience has shaped who Gaby is. “The point of a scene is we don’t know what it’s going to be,” she says. “We learned our lines. We’re going to show up. The director’s here. They have an idea. We’re going to make this thing together. We’re going to ‘Yes, and?’ until we get the scene up.”
Her ability to take the ball and run with it is what caught Lawrence’s eye in the first place, discovering Williams as a correspondent on “The Daily Show.” “She works very hard at making it seem like it’s off the cuff,” he emphasizes. “She is quick to call the writing staff with questions and is always looking to improve things. That’s not always the truth with everybody. She works her ass off.”
Jessica Williams.(Ryan Pfluger / For The Times)
That work ethic was essential for her Season 3 arc, which found Williams facing some of the toughest acting challenges of her career. Gaby bonds with a new, albeit reluctant, patient, Maya (Sherry Cola), only to be devastated when Maya takes her own life. It’s the heaviest storyline of the season — and a heartbreaking look at the realities of suicide, loss and trauma in the lives of mental health professionals.
One of the show’s consultants had experienced a similar loss, and their insights helped the writing staff find dramatic resonance. For Williams, it was a chance to showcase what she always believed she was capable of. “For women, people of color, queer people, any minorities, we just want the opportunity to show what we can do,” Williams says. “I was rubbing my hands together. Like, ‘F— yeah. Let’s go.’ But I was also really nervous. Sometimes when I get scenes that are a bit more difficult, I wake up and I wonder if I can do it. Every single time it’s proving to myself that I can. It felt like I didn’t get to rest last season in a way that was really nice. Most times I feel like I’m just goofing, but that felt like, ‘Oh, I’m an actor.’”
That’s an inevitable side effect of appearing on a Bill Lawrence show. His blend of humor and pathos demands a high-wire act from his ensembles. “With Bill, you have to have the acting chops to be able to do the drama, but then be able to turn a joke very quickly,” says Christa Miller, who’s been married to Lawrence since 1999 and played major roles on “Scrubs” and “Cougar Town” before “Shrinking,” in which she stars as Liz. “You really have to be able to do it on a dime.”
Lawrence clocked early on that Williams had the chops to hold her own against heavyweights like Harrison Ford. “We knew comedically she would crush it. The only question mark was about who she was as an actress,” says Lawrence. “But she was great from the second she set foot onstage. It would’ve been a massive mistake not to let her showcase that stuff.”
The storyline also pushed Williams to reopen an old wound. In 2019, she lost her longtime boyfriend to a heroin overdose. “He had a therapist who had come recommended from my therapist,” she says. “I don’t remember that time that much because it was so intense and traumatic. I do remember my therapist was helping me work through it, but she was also like, ‘I’d like to check in with his therapist and see how he’s doing.’ That was the first place I went when they told me about that storyline. It was a good opportunity to work through that a little bit.”
Even though her grief was readily accessible, it also churned up emotions that Williams often tries to quiet. “There’s always something when someone dies, whether it’s suicide or an accident, where you feel guilt,” she reflects. “‘What could I have done?’ It was something that I’ve processed and am still processing, and it was easy to transfer that into Season 3. Grief is so ongoing. It’s a wound that I have forever, and I would give anything to not have it. But now I have it, and I live with it. It’s like an old friend.”
Williams describes the days filming those scenes as different for her, harder to shake. Driving home from the set in Burbank, she’d often take side streets back to her house in Eagle Rock, getting lost in music and her environment. “It felt like trying to shed it,” she explains. “I really felt it. But so many people responded to it in a way that was what I wanted. It’s such an intimate thing, this job, and to be able to portray something [that resonates], that’s the whole point.”
One emotion the work generated that she wasn’t expecting? Embarrassment. “I’m usually not embarrassed doing comedy,” she says. “I’m like, ‘There’s no rules. We can try anything.’ It doesn’t feel as vulnerable, whereas acting, there’s something fundamentally so indulgent about it.”
It’s a surprising admission; though I haven’t spent substantial time with Williams in years, she always seemed fearless to me. Willing to do whatever it took to get a laugh. It’s why our drama teacher invented an entirely new role for her in our spring musical, to showcase her generational comedic talent.
Williams agrees she was a cutup in class, but she never got the chance to do any capital-A acting in middle school. “I would get a part, and then I wouldn’t be able to do it,” she recounts. “Mrs. Barryte would have to call my parents and be like, ‘She did not do her homework. She has bad grades. She can’t do the play.’ I let people down. I remember feeling really sad about it.
“That taught me I’m a part of a team,” she reflects. “I have to be professional. I have to be ready. But I’m glad I don’t have to do my math homework to be able to perform. Public school’s tough — you had to be an awkward Black girl and get good grades to do the musical.”
That all changed when Williams found improv, joining the ComedySportz team at Harbor City’s Narbonne High (she continued on the college team while she was a student at Cal State Long Beach). “I cared about improv so much that I wasn’t not going to do my homework,” she says. “It just affected my life profoundly. I’m getting misty thinking about these programs that are underfunded, that s— really matters.”
Williams has also found reassurance in the response to her character. “She makes me more confident,” she admits. “Just seeing the response to Gaby. A lot of that is amazing writing, directing and an amazing crew, but it’s also my instincts.”
“The first time I was like, ‘Whoa, what the f—?’” she says of her three Emmy nominations for the role. “Second time, it was like, ‘OK, it wasn’t a fluke.’ And then the third time you’re like, ‘Oh s—!’ All the actresses that I admire are in this category, so I’m honored. But these are my peers too. So it’s like, ‘Oh, they see me.’ Gaby means something to people, it feels like — and that’s really nice. It encourages me to keep going.”
As for what that future will hold, besides at least one more season of “Shrinking,” Williams is hungry to do a play on Broadway, having not done theater since high school. Somewhere in there she’d like to capitalize on her tendency to play erudite characters and embody a detective in a thriller (preferably a paranormal one like her childhood faves “So Weird” and “The X-Files”).
Mostly, though, she just wants to keep doing what she’s been striving for since we were kids — “I want, when you watch me, for you to feel like you’ve seen something magic happen.”
His two older brothers were both Division I athletes with Dominic Davis playing football and running track at USC and Diab Davis running track at California.
For a dual-sport athlete with big dreams like Pleasant, having mentors in his two brothers to lean on and gain advice from was everything he ever needed.
But once the four-star Gardena Serra product made it to Oregon for his first year of college football, he struggled to adapt and get situated in Eugene, Ore., — he needed another older brother.
Defensive back Rodrick Pleasant signals downfield during a UCLA football preseason practice.
(Isabella Serafini/UCLA Athletics)
And it was former Oregon and Chargers cornerback Nikko Reed who stepped up to the plate and guided Pleasant through his first two years of Power Four football.
Reed’s impact on Pleasant was so profound that the UCLA cornerback promised himself that he would be the Reed to other younger players.
And now it is the senior’s time to pay it forward.
“That’s what I’ve taken pride in in the spring, being a leader, being a guy that can talk too, being the guy that I needed when I was a young kid,” Pleasant said on the second day of UCLA preseason camp. “I’ve had great leaders for me when I was at another place, and that’s what I’ve been trying to work on and be there for the guys because I know I’ve dealt with stuff that they’re going through, so that’s what’s been the biggest thing for me.”
Pleasant got his first taste of leadership throughout spring practices. He was recovering from a shoulder injury suffered at the tail end of the 2025 season and had to sit out of team and contact drills.
On the sideline, Pleasant had to learn to impact the game and the players around him without stepping onto the field.
The 2025 All-Big Ten honorable mention honoree quickly found out that by coaching others, he could also help himself.
“Being out there and being able to coach the guys and help the guys. If you can coach it, you can play it,” Pleasant said. “It wasn’t a frustration. I believe in the staff. I believe in what we’re doing here and they had me limited … for a certain reason. I trust the process.”
The Gardena native could have entered the transfer portal after head coach DeShaun Foster was fired three games into the 2025 season. And he had another chance after the season ended with his position coach Demetrice Martin left for Arizona State.
But the Bruins new coaching staff left a lasting impression on Pleasant.
“It’s a family-oriented place. You see, their families running around here, their kids. They’re people at the end of the day, and being around them is special,” Pleasant said. “So knowing that they treat their families like that, and have their families around us, I appreciate it.”
And no one left a stronger imprint then Chesney, who Pleasant said has been the same guy ever since their meeting.
Despite five new cornerbacks joining the team through the transfer portal and 2026 recruiting class, the comfort induced by the family-oriented coaching staff has allowed Pleasant’s leadership to flourish, supporting one of the deepest position groups on the team.
“We’ve been jelling. . We’ve been practicing for a very long time together and the chemistry is there,” Pleasant said. “It’s exciting. A lot of dudes are on the same page together, so that’s what I’m really excited about.”
Pleasant is determined to be a leader among the defensive back group and in the locker room, being the person Reed was to him.
And one of the first players he took under his wing was sophomore cornerback Osiris Gilbert, a UConn transfer.
“That’s my guy. He’s a young guy. He’s going to be special,” Pleasant said of Gilbert. “He has talent. He’s a competitor, and I’m excited about this season for him. He has a lot to give out to us, and he’s going to bring a lot out of us.”
Rodrick Pleasant, center, of Gardena Serra wins the 100 meters state championship in 10.20 seconds in 2023. Jaelon Barbarin, left, of Simi Valley finished sixth and Anthony Flowers of South Torrance was fourth.
(Nick Koza)
While Pleasant’s leadership is centered around UCLA football, it does not end there.
The defensive back and former 100-meter sprinter who broke the California state record in the 100-meter dash with a time of 10.14 at the CIF Southern Section Masters Meet in 2023 is also supporting the Los Angeles Jets Track Club.
“I went to the [USA Track and Field] Junior Olympics this past weekend and it’s just great seeing the young kids,” Pleasant said. “I’m a Jet at heart, and being out there and watching them run, it brings back memories. I’ve done it and the youth is a special place. Being somebody that they can see has done it before is like no other. So that’s why I wanted to get back. I like to be there because I know I needed somebody.”
The Wound is Where the Light Enters: A Memoir of Resilience
By Chris Young Little, Brown and Company: 336 pages, $35
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Chris Young grew up in Clarksville, Tenn., in the direst imaginable circumstances — unimaginable, in fact, to many of us.
He never knew his father. His mother was a crack addict with a habit of stabbing her romantic partners. While his mom was in prison, Young and his older brother, Robert, mostly fended for themselves, often in a home that lacked electricity and running water. Young, tormented by sickle-cell disease, saw many of those closest to him die by homicide or suicide.
The two boys weren’t totally bereft. They had a grandfather, cousins, friends and a stepfather. A neighbor provided showers, until his water bill got too high; another supplied hot meals. A woman known as Big Mama offered shelter and tough love. But it wasn’t nearly enough. Desperate for money, the teenage Young — smart, entrepreneurial, dreaming of a rap career — became a gun-toting drug dealer.
Young’s searing memoir, “The Wound Is Where the Light Enters,” chronicles this bitter childhood and its devastating consequences. The evocative title is a quotation from the 13th century Persian poet Rumi.
Unlike some prison memoirs, this isn’t an innocence story. But it is no less an indictment of the U.S. justice system — its laws, its courts and its brutal prisons. “The constant state of heightened agitation and awareness that it takes to survive a single day in a federal penitentiary is enough to drive a man insane,” Young writes. “At every turn, the system is designed to crush your humanity. You’re an animal in there and are expected to act like one.”
But not everyone does. “The Wound Is Where the Light Enters” not only reveals the system’s horrors, but also celebrates the redemptive power of hope, intellect and community.
By the time Young was swept up in a federal drug investigation, he already had two felony drug convictions. His involvement in the federal conspiracy case, as he tells it, was marginal. He was no kingpin and had never met most of the people being charged.
But he faced a zealous prosecutor, with only court-appointed attorneys at his side. Worse yet, he was up against a harsh “three-strikes” law that replaced judicial discretion with mandatory minimum sentences.
Young’s own pride and sense of justice also came into play. He could have pleaded guilty, perhaps even cooperated, and received a finite (though still hefty) prison sentence. Instead, determined to argue his case, he opted for a trial at which conviction was all but certain. Then, against advice, he presented a meticulously crafted and rehearsed speech at his sentencing hearing.
The 26-year-old Young, who’d already spent four years behind bars, had used that time productively. A former straight-A student who had dropped out of high school, he had embarked on a program of self-education, reading deeply in African American history, Greek philosophy, finance and other subjects. “Every day,” he writes, “I left the library with new language to put to my thoughts.”
Young told the court about his chaotic upbringing and his recent scholarly pursuits. “He spoke of the things he could do if he did not have to die in prison. He told me of the possibilities that would never be,” the trial judge, Kevin H. Sharp, writes in the book’s foreword. “It was impossible to listen to someone so full of compassion, intelligence, and, above all, promise, and not question the system that had not just allowed this to happen but required it.”
Sharp sentenced Young to life without the possibility of parole, as the law mandated. But two years later, he stepped down from the bench and joined Young’s defense team.
Young describes his childhood mostly from the perspective of a boy — alternately bewildered, hurting, depressed and “mad all the time.” His account of his incarceration, with its mind-numbing routines, gang hegemony and intermittent violence, is equally gripping.
At McCreary, the tense high-security federal prison in Kentucky known as Misery Mountain, Young meditated, adhered to a workout routine, read prodigiously, taught GED classes to fellow inmates and maintained ties to his few surviving loved ones. And he kept hoping. “The system’s control over my body was absolute,” Young writes. “Its control over my mind was not.”
In 2015, the sickle cell-related disintegration of his hips prompted Young’s transfer to a low-security prison, Federal Medical Center Lexington. Here the surroundings are less bleak, the library better, the prisoners friendlier. Young teaches himself to code and envisions an app that will focus on mental health and suicide prevention. Yet he still must fight to obtain the hip replacement surgery he so desperately needs.
By now, his case has attracted sympathetic press attention and more effective lawyers. Even so, his story takes a dark turn. From Lexington, he is sent to his most terrifying prison yet, known as Bloody Beaumont, where COVID-19 adds another layer of threat. A judge reduces his sentence, but, for reasons never entirely clear, he is suddenly thrown into the prison’s “hole,” its barbarous solitary confinement cells.
It is from that hell that Young, more than a decade after his arrest, emerges to freedom — earning a degree in economics and public policy from Southern Methodist University, pursuing a consulting career and writing this indelible book. For his 2021 grant of executive clemency, he has his lawyers and reality-TV star Kim Kardashian to thank — as well as President Trump.
Klein, a cultural reporter and critic in Philadelphia, has been a three-time finalist for the National Book Critics Circle’s Nona Balakian Citation for Excellence in Reviewing.
Ahmet Davutoglu was once one of Turkiye’s most powerful figures: The academic who helped shape the country’s ambitious foreign policy after the turn of the century, served as foreign minister and prime minister, and was chosen by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan to lead the governing Justice and Development Party, or AK Party.
But later, he became a critic of the political system he had helped build.
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Now, after announcing that his opposition Future Party would cease political activities, Davutoglu is withdrawing from party politics. He described the decision not as surrender but as an effort to distance himself from what he called Turkiye’s “polluted political climate”.
His departure leaves a contested legacy – that of an intellectual who transformed Tukiye’s diplomatic outlook, but struggled to turn his ideas and prominence into an independent political movement.
From professor to foreign minister
Born in 1959 in Taskent, in the central province of Konya, Davutoglu studied economics and political science at Bogazici University before becoming an academic.
He taught in Malaysia and at universities in Turkiye, with students calling him “Hoca”, or the professor – a title that followed him into government.
Davutoglu became widely known for his so-called “strategic depth” doctrine, the argument that Turkiye’s geography, Ottoman history and connections across the Balkans, Middle East, Caucasus and Central Asia could make it a central diplomatic power rather than a country confined to Europe’s periphery.
After the AK Party came to power in 2002, he became Erdogan’s chief foreign policy adviser. He was appointed foreign minister in 2009 and entered parliament in 2011.
His early years in government coincided with an expansion of Turkish influence.
Ankara opened embassies, strengthened its presence in Africa and the Middle East, mediated regional disputes and promoted trade and visa-free travel with neighbouring countries. The approach became known as “zero problems with neighbours”.
Tarik Celenk, a writer and analyst familiar with Turkiye’s conservative intellectual tradition, said Davutoglu altered the country’s diplomatic culture.
“Davutoglu brought a change of mentality to the Foreign Ministry cadres,” Celenk said, crediting him with opening diplomacy to businesses and civil society.
Celenk noted that Davutoglu sought to position Turkiye as a country capable of communicating with otherwise incompatible actors. “Davutoglu was able to have good relations with Hamas, with Russia, and also to have good relations with the US,” he added.
Davutoglu called this intensive and multidirectional engagement “rhythmic diplomacy” – an effort to maintain dialogue across competing regional and global power centres.
But the Arab uprisings, particularly the war in Syria, exposed the limits of that vision, analysts said. Turkiye supported the Syrian opposition and anticipated that President Bashar al-Assad’s government would fall quickly. Instead, the conflict brought mass displacement, security threats and prolonged instability.
“His principal mistake in foreign policy was that he was very emotional, very romantic,” said Celenk, arguing that Davutoglu struggled to establish boundaries between “idealism, romanticism and realism”.
Davutoglu, right, greets Transport and Communication Minister Binali Yildirim during an AK Party congress on May 22, 2016 in Ankara [File: Gokhan Tan/Getty Images]
Erdogan’s chosen successor
When Erdogan moved from the prime minister’s office to the presidency in 2014, he selected Davutoglu to succeed him as AK Party leader and prime minister.
The arrangement contained a fundamental contradiction. Under Turkiye’s parliamentary system at the time, Davutoglu formally headed the government. But Erdogan continued to dominate the governing party and exercise authority from the presidency while advocating an executive presidential system.
Davutoglu led the AK Party through two elections in 2015. After losing its parliamentary majority in June, the party regained it in November with nearly half the national vote. Yet the victory did not give Davutoglu an independent power base.
According to Celenk, Davutoglu entered politics imagining a forest without “wolves, foxes, jackals or snakes” – but discovered while prime minister “that this forest did not exist”.
Amid disagreements over appointments, governance and Erdogan’s efforts to expand presidential authority, Davutoglu stepped down in 2016. He remained in the AK Party for another three years before resigning and establishing the Future Party in 2019.
An opposition party without a base
The party sought to attract conservative voters disillusioned with Erdogan while advocating parliamentary democracy, the rule of law and accountable government. It never developed substantial electoral support.
Political scientist Berk Esen said opposition parties face structural disadvantages in Turkiye, where the governing party has extensive access to state resources and much of the media.
But those conditions did not fully explain the failure of Davutoglu’s party, he added. “For one thing, the Future Party was already half stillborn by its very foundation,” argued Esen.
Davutoglu and Ali Babacan, another former senior AK Party figure, established separate opposition parties, dividing an already limited pool of disaffected conservative voters. Both also struggled to confront the records of the governments in which they had served.
In the 2023 elections, Future Party candidates entered parliament on the lists of the Republican People’s Party, or CHP, then Turkiye’s main opposition party. The arrangement delivered seats but exposed the party’s dependence on a larger organisation.
Esen said pursuing guaranteed representation prevented the Future Party from fielding its own candidates across Turkiye and building local networks.
“In order to achieve a small success in the short term, they squandered the party’s institutional identity in the medium term,” he said. “And that is already why this party closed.”
Celenk offered a similar assessment: “You could say that the Future Party was never the party of the future. It became stuck in the past.”
Yet he distinguished between Davutoglu, the unsuccessful party leader, and Davutoglu, the intellectual.
“Let us criticise Ahmet Davutoglu the politician together, all the way to the end,” he said.
“But Ahmet Davutoglu’s intellectual production capacity within the conservative community was belittled and not taken seriously,” added Celenk, referring to sections of Turkiye’s conservative political and religious establishment which, according to him, benefited from Davutoglu’s ideas and intellectual framework but did not sufficiently acknowledge his contribution.
Esen said he doubts Davutoglu could exercise significant political influence while Erdogan remains in power. “But I think, in practice, his political career appears to be over,” he said.
Yet the analysts found substance in Davutoglu’s explanation for withdrawing. Celenk said his four-page letter offered a serious diagnosis of “the state the country, its politics and its society have reached”, including the risk that Turkiye was “losing its character as a nation”. Esen agreed that “Turkish politics has become very polluted and authoritarian”, adding that some of Davutoglu’s criticisms were therefore well grounded.
Davutoglu exits party politics without establishing the conservative democratic alternative he promised. But some of the ideas and diplomatic practices he introduced survived his loss of power, ensuring that debate over his legacy will outlast the party he founded.
“At least as Davutoglu leaves politics and withdraws from institutional politics, this must be remembered,” said Celenk.
It was never actually in doubt. Dearica Hamby was going to stay a member of the Sparks. That was just how she worked.
Even when Nneka Ogwumike came into the fold and the frontcourt became crowded, Hamby didn’t doubt her decision to return to the organization that traded for her four years ago.
Loyalty mattered more than anything else.
“That’s who I am,” she said. “I don’t run away from things. I wanted to stay here and help L.A. get back to where it was and is capable of being.”
In a loaded frontcourt, the 32-year-old Hamby has still found ways to shine. Hamby has led the Sparks in scoring four times and led or tied for rebounding 16 times this season after signing a three-year, $3.5-million contract.
She ranks in the top 20 in the league in rebounds and field-goal percentage (plus 25th in scoring) and is eighth in offensive rebounds in establishing herself as an essential piece to the Sparks’ “win now” attempt.
“I think it’s the challenge, because we are so good and we have so much talent,” said Hamby, who is averaging 14.8 points, 7.7 rebounds and 2.3 assists while shooting 52.8% from the field. “You’re forced to produce, but it’s also a blessing. I know it’s probably hard for coach to manage the three’s playing time and stuff like that, but it’s a beautiful problem.”
Hamby was in the headlines when the Aces traded her after she was pregnant. In September of that year, she filed a federal discrimination complaint against the team and league, claiming she was traded because she was pregnant. The two sides resolved matters before trial.
The new CBA this year created a new rule that requires a pregnant player’s consent to be traded.
“I feel like she’s such an anomaly,” said forward Rae Burrell. “I remember when she had her son, and it was crazy because everybody was saying she was coming back so early, I thought that was insane, but now being her teammate, I see it, she’s just kind of a freak of nature, like she’s so athletic, she can do all types of things on the court that you think looks unorthodox, but she makes it happen, but also just love being her teammate. She’s just good people.”
Since that trade, she has been a regular in the Sparks’ starting lineup while averaging double-digit scoring and around eight rebounds per game. She’s one of the most efficient scorers in the league, too.
But Hamby’s games have been all over the board. Against the Aces, she missed all seven of her shots. Against Dallas and Indiana, she made six of eight shots. She’s had eight games with a shooting percentage above 60% and four games under 40%.
Sparks forward Dearica Hamby, left, tries to steal the ball from Mercury forward DeWanna Bonner during a game in Phoenix.
(Christian Petersen / Getty Images)
Having the three frontcourt players has been an adjustment for coach Lynne Roberts to find how to implement them all in the offense.
“I’m trying to implement the new offense, we’re plugging pieces into play, and things that I may have been able to do last year as freely I’m not as able to do this year,” Hamby said. “So just adjusting for sure, but I think that’s across the board for everybody.”
Before the season, Roberts said that Cameron Brink would come off the bench and Hamby would start. Brink, the only natural center on the team, averages just 17.5 minutes per game primarily because of her 3.7 fouls.
“She’s my vet,” Brink said of Hamby. “I think she’s just such a grounding force for us, and she’s someone that does everything, so I just really feel like I learn from her every day, and I’m just very thankful to be in her presence.”
Hamby averages 3.2 fouls per game and has expressed frustration about the new officiating norms this season, but has avoided true foul trouble. She and Ogwumike work as two fours instead of a team with a traditional five.
“She has a lot of energy,” Ogwumike said. “I think she does a really good job of just having a high motor and going out there and kind of like doing the dirty work. I feel like it’s beneficial to have a loaded frontcourt, to be able to have so many different types of players and a depth where anytime one of us is in, there’s no letdown.”
The Sparks have been the worst defensive team in the league this season and struggled to score when point guard Kelsey Plum was out of the lineup with an ankle injury. Ogwumike might be the other veteran leader, but Hamby has stayed with this Sparks team the past two seasons while Ogwumike was in Seattle.
Now her role has changed, even with that loyalty. She’s playing just over a minute less and they’re asking for better defense and efficiency.
Hamby chose to come back. Now she’s choosing to help build the Sparks up.
“I know my usage is a lot lower,” Hamby said. “A goal of mine the last two seasons was to have those numbers, so to have the same numbers just at a more efficient rate, and so I mean offensively, but with like two fewer shots a game, that’s pretty impressive.”
The L.A. Zoo’s elephants are now in Tulsa, and the zoo’s longtime nonprofit partner is now in bankruptcy court.
The litany of woes at the L.A. Zoo grew longer last month as the city’s nonprofit partner, the Greater Los Angeles Zoological Association, filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, citing “incessant litigation” from the city of Los Angeles as the cause.
The city won a preliminary injunction in Los Angeles Superior Court that barred GLAZA from keeping the money when its contract with the zoo ended last year. Following the split and lawsuit, GLAZA dwindled in size from 42 full-time employees to just four part-time employees.
Now GLAZA says it owes its creditors, including more than $300,000 that it needs to pay a law firm that has represented the nonprofit in its legal battle with the city.
“The City has designated an army of eight attorneys to overwhelm GLAZA with endless discovery, depositions, and court filings all to run up GLAZA’s legal fees,” the nonprofit said in a statement shared with The Times. “As a result, GLAZA has been left with no options other than to seek protection from the bankruptcy court to ensure the survival of GLAZA and the protection of its donors.”
Following its separation from the city, GLAZA executives hope the nonprofit can work in the animal conservation efforts in Southern California.
On July 1, the City Council approved $250,000 in outside lawyers related to the bankruptcy case.
The zoo is facing headwinds as membership has declined precipitously and facilities have deteriorated, according to an Los Angeles County civil grand jury report.
The city attorney’s office didn’t respond to a request for comment on GLAZA’s bankruptcy.
Pratt’s new frontier
Former mayoral candidate Spencer Pratt was far from Los Angeles as he took a meeting with President Trump in Washington, D.C., a few days ago.
Pratt, who came up short of the Nov. 2 runoff by a few percentage points, met with the president in the Oval Office, posting a photo of the rendezvous to social media Tuesday.
“I will never stop fighting for my community,” he wrote.
Pratt paired the visit with an announcement of a new media endeavor he plans to launch called “WAR.” He said the foundation will fight against political corruption, advocate for transparency in government and “restore common sense.”
The website for the foundation doesn’t have additional details, just a link to contribute and a link to a website selling Pratt merch.
The White House didn’t respond to a request for comment.
Pratt also posted a 9-minute video Wednesday calling out California’s election system, claiming that the results of the June 2 primary were skewed by fraud.
Representatives for Pratt’s campaign didn’t respond to a request for comment.
Phoning it in
After the flag salute and brief comments, L.A. City Council meetings kick off with a public comment period, during which crusading citizens often let loose on city officials as the council members quietly listen, leave the room or chat among themselves.
It’s not always L.A.’s finest hour, as certain commenters often resort to slurs and ad hominem attacks about the council members’ race, ethnicity and even physical appearance.
On July 1, public comment expanded as new state law, SB 707, went into effect, requiring the council to take telephonic public comment.
The council also had to verbally state the amendments they make to motions due to the new law, Council President Marqueece Harris-Dawson noted. Historically, the council has affixed amendments to a bulletin board in council chambers.
After frequent speaker Armando Herman used the N-word at the July 1 meeting, Harris-Dawson noted that the state legislature had done nothing about offensive comments at public meetings.
“Our friends in the state legislature made the decision to require us to have telephonic public comment. They did nothing, zero, about what we just heard. Since they want to intervene in our meetings, I’d call on them to do something about what they just heard,” he said.
The council did ban commenters from using the N-word and C-word last year. Speakers who use those words receive a warning and are booted from the meeting if they do it again.
Harris-Dawson said the new state law was “problematic” and noted another issue.
“We can’t verify if calls are bots or foreign agents, which poses a security risk,” he said in a statement to The Times.
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State of play
— BOYLE-ING OVER: Mayor Karen Bass, Councilmember Ysabel Jurado and County Supervisor Hilda Solis were roundly booed and heckled by Boyle Heights residents during a town hall Thursday about the Boyle Heights fire. The three officials struggled to speak over the irate audience.
— SOLAR FLARE: Before the Boyle Heights warehouse fire, Lineage representatives lobbied City Hall over the rooftop solar array. The company says it was seeking a safer alternative to rapid shutdown devices.
— FISCAL EDUCATION: The Los Angeles Unified School District is facing “severe” indications it could be insolvent as soon as next year and has 45 days to fix its budget or risk an outside takeover. The Los Angeles County Office of Education has projected a $231 million cash shortfall by 2027.
— HIT THE STREETS: The LAPD is considering shutting down its police academy for part of 2028 to allow hundreds of officers to hit the streets for the Olympics, according to department sources. The move could lead to a drop in police hiring.
— LEGEND GONE: Billy G. Mills, one of the first Black men elected to L.A.’s City Council, died June 27. Mills was a civil rights leader before being elected to the legislative body in 1963, the same year Tom Bradley was elected to be a council member.
— IT TAKES A VILLAGE: Billionaire developer Rick Caruso’s Palisades Village will reopen in August after more than $100 million in renovations following the January 2025 wildfire.
— EVICTION BENEDICTION: Thousands of formerly homeless people whose housing subsidies will expire in December are no longer at risk of eviction, local housing officials announced Thursday. An infusion of new funds approved by Congress this year and a waiver of eligibility procedures have staved off a potential crisis that would have left 4,200 back on the street.
QUICK HITS
Where is Inside Safe? The mayor’s signature program had no operations this week.
On the docket next week: The City Council remains on recess until Aug. 4.
Stay in touch
That’s it for this week! Send your questions, comments and gossip to LAontheRecord@latimes.com. Did a friend forward you this email? Sign up here to get it in your inbox every Saturday morning.
COMEDIAN Jim Davidson admitted “I found out what legless means” after collapsing outside a pub and being helped up by drinking buddies.
The star downed two bottles of wine, tequila, vodka, six pints of Guinness and two whiskies on an all-day session, saying: “I think it must have been that last scotch that did it.”
Jim Davidson admitted ‘I found out what legless means’ after collapsing outside a pub and being helped up by drinking buddiesJim downed two bottles of wine, tequila, vodka, six pints of Guinness and two whiskies on an all-day session, saying: ‘I think it must have been that last scotch that did it’Credit: News Group Newspapers Ltd
Ex-Big Break and Generation Game host Jim, 72, had sailed to the Isle of Wight on his £350,000 yacht Lady Natasha — named after his fiancée.
The pair dined at The Hut in Colwell Bay before Natasha, 49, called it a night and Jim carried on drinking with some yachtsmen.
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He said: “It was boys stuff. I found out what the term legless means.
“We had a smashing meal at The Hut, which is the best restaurant in the country, then I decided to go on the p***.
“It was a bit of a harmless fun, no one died.”
Jim, who has five ex-wives, detailed his mammoth booze-up, which ended with him collapsing outside Salty’s pub in Yarmouth.
He said: “Most people leave Salty’s like that. First I had a couple of bottles of wine that made me a bit dizzy.
Jim, who has five ex-wives, detailed his mammoth booze-up, which ended with him collapsing outside Salty’s pub in YarmouthCredit: AlamyJim admitted being a binge drinker and said: ‘I can do that when I’m not working. I can’t when I’m working’Credit: AFP
“I thought I better have some tequila to sober me up. After the tequilas made me feel worse, I thought vodka will kill the tequila.
“And after that six pints of Guinness. I thought well I need a wee, I’ll go into this pub and use their toilet and while I’m here I’ll have a couple of scotches.
“I think it must have been that last scotch that did it.”
Jim admitted being a binge drinker and said: “I can do that when I’m not working. I can’t when I’m working.
“Today I’ve got to drive five hours to Blackpool, do a show in the club and then five hours back tomorrow. This is the reality of showbiz. Then back to the studio to film my weekly satire show.
“When you’ve got a picture of me coming off stage in a theatre like that, then I’m in trouble.”
As Mexico moves to the Round of 16 in the 2026 World Cup following its Tuesday night 2-0 win over Ecuador — advancing in the knockout stage of the tournament for the first time in 40 years — El Tri fans have rallied behind a unifying phrase: “¿Y si sí?”
The simple three-word expression — which roughly translates to “What if… yes?” — has given Mexico supporters all over the world renewed hope: What if Mexico wins the World Cup?
The now ubiquitous phrase has been featured in memes and compilation videos. Even Mexican goalkeeper Memo Ochoa has gotten in on the action, posting a selfie on Instagram wearing a straw cowboy hat with “¿Y si sí?” etched on it.
Origins of the phrase can be traced back to a May interview with Efraín Juárez, who led Pumas UNAM to the Liga MX Clausura final. During the media appearance, journalist Rodrigo Celorio asked the head coach, “Y si sí?” (“What if yes?”), to which Juárez responded, “Y si sí? Y si los Pumas sí son campeones?” (“What if yes? What if Pumas are be champions?”).
Although Pumas would lose to Cruz Azul 2-1, the optimistic sentiment resonated with TikTok users, especially with the World Cup just weeks away. Some hopeful fans took to social media to post their own interpretation of the phrase, often coupled with clips of past Mexican men’s national teams. Others included a mariachi soundbite of Juan Gabriel’s “Hasta Que Te Conocí” from his 1990 performance at the Palacio de Bellas Artes — an appearance that was seen as a milestone for Mexico’s working-class communities given that the iconic Mexico City venue was best known to cater to the elite class. Because if someone who grew up in extreme poverty like Juan Gabriel could bring a mariachi band to the illustrious Palacio de Bellas Artes, why couldn’t the Mexican national team win its first ever World Cup?
The phrase “¿Y si sí?” is also a callback to a 2018 interview Javier “Chicharito” Hernández gave to journalist David Faitelson, who asked the former striker if he was serious about Mexico’s chances of winning that year’s tournament.
“Why can’t we be Greece in the [2004] EuroCup? Why can’t we be Leicester in the Premier League? Why not?” said Hernández, referring to underdog teams that defeated the odds against more favorable clubs.
As the two discussed Mexico’s probability of advancing in the knockout stages of World Cup, Hernández balked back with his now famous phrase: “Imaginémonos cosas chingonas!” (“Let’s imagine badass things!”), followed by “Porque no?” (“Why not?”)
Now both “¿Y si sí?” and “Porque no?” have taken on new meaning in 2026. After Fox Deportes reporter Rodolfo Landeros asked attacking midfielder Gilberto Mora why Mexico could win the World Cup ahead of the June 11 kickoff, the 17-year-old responded with “Es qué, porque no?” (“Because, why not?”).
After Mexico won all three of its group stage matches, TUDN reporter Julio Ibáñez asked the wunderkind Mora, “¿Y si sí?” to which the young soccer player replied “Y Porque no?” When Ibáñez asked if people should get their hopes up, Mora said yes. “Si, que se ilusione” (“Yes, they should dream big”), playing up the running gag.
With Mexico set to face England, one of the teams favored at the start of the tournament, on July 5, would it be so wrong if fans allow themselves to dream? ¿Y si sí? ¿Porque no?
Gary and Sarah Andrews’s daughter Wynter died 23 minutes after she was delivered by Caesarean section at the Queen’s Medical Centre on 15 September 2019 after repeated warning signs of her being in distress had been missed.
Wynter died from a loss of oxygen flow to the brain – which an inquest found could have been prevented had staff delivered her earlier.
Sarah, 41, had been admitted to hospital on 14 September, six days after initially experiencing contractions.
The inquest heard the maternity unit was “busy” when she arrived, with information on the patient’s history not properly handed over to other staff at shift changes.
The inquest found Wynter may have survived if “multiple missed opportunities” had been spotted.
In what would become a recurring theme about warning signs being missed, the coroner cited a 2018 letter from midwives to bosses at the trust, outlining concerns over staffing levels as “the cause of a potential disaster”.
“The grim predictions… were indeed realised some 10 months later when Wynter died as a result of the unsafe practices warned about,” coroner Laurinda Bower said.
The Care Quality Commission (CQC) prosecuted NUH over her death in January 2023, with the trust pleading guilty to care failures.
Maintaining – or not maintaining – his fitness has been a recurring theme in Duckett’s career. As a youngster, he twice missed out on tours for failing to meet conditioning standards – once with England Under-19s in 2013, then a Northants pre-season trip in 2015.
This time, with a Test career on the line, he has worked with England fitness coach Pete Sim and Nottinghamshire counterpart Zac Bess to lose “five or six” kilograms.
Duckett added: “I started running, which was good!
“I had a four-week block when I got back from the winter where I didn’t necessarily hit many balls.
“It’s just really important now that I use that hard work that I’ve done and maintain it.
“It’s something I’ve really enjoyed and it’s been great for my mental space and getting away from the game. I went to the gym, I ran a lot and a bit of weight came off.”
The early signs for Duckett were good. Three half-centuries in his first five innings for Notts this summer were followed by an unbeaten double century against Surrey.
He still needed the international worm to turn. In the context of the snakepit pitch, scores of 19 and 33 in England’s first-Test win over New Zealand at Lord’s were useful, only to be followed by more misfortune in the loss at The Oval.
On the second morning, Duckett dropped a simple and crucial catch off Kyle Jamieson as England surrendered the momentum. When he came to bat, he was in glorious touch for 36 before being run out by a never-there call from new opening partner Emilio Gay.
At Trent Bridge, it could have been a similar story. In perfect batting conditions and with England replying to New Zealand’s 438, Duckett made his intentions known with two driven fours off Nathan Smith’s first over of the innings.
Smith, though, would return to find Duckett’s edge. Henry Nicholls should have pouched a simple catch at third slip. When the ball dropped to the turf, Duckett responded by punching the next delivery for four and did not look back.
“I was chatting to [England fielding coach] Sarah Taylor,” said Duckett. “We were making a bit of a joke about how I’ve got to get some luck eventually and that’s how the game works.
“I’m extremely thankful for Henry Nicholls for doing that to me.
“It’s been a really frustrating time, because I’ve not felt out of nick, I’ve just not got the runs that I really want. ‘Mother Cricket’ was there for me today. I got put down and made them pay for it.”
Walk into the Grammy Museum in downtown L.A., and you’ll see Clive Davis’ legacy everywhere.
The museum’s intimate performance space is named for the late record executive, and his visage greets guests at the front door. (Davis was the first million-dollar donor to the nascent Recording Academy archive and exhibition space.) His sprawling roster of acts — Bruce Springsteen, Miles Davis, Whitney Houston,Alicia Keys, Earth, Wind & Fire — defined an entire art form and business model as preserved in the Grammy Museum. Davis’ pre-Grammy gala was the most coveted invitation in music every awards season.
Davis’ death at 94 is “devastating,” said Michael Sticka, chief executive and president of the Grammy Museum. “Clive was always a north star of music and talent and artistry. We’re all lucky to have his legacy to look up to.”
Davis’ death marks the end of perhaps the most important and enduring career in the record industry. Sticka spoke to The Times about Davis’ remarkable longevity, creative vision and how a career like his will likely never be possible again.
Clive was a giant of the record business. How did his career shape the modern record industry?
His career was iconic. He really had a unique ability to not just bring an artist to their fullest potential artistically, but commercially. From attending Monterey Pop and first seeing Janis Joplin to Whitney Houston and Alicia Keys, I don’t think anybody had that ear in them the way that he did.
With Clive, what you got was not just hearing commercial viability, but an understanding of what was going on in the zeitgeist. That’s what propelled his career and legacy beyond most record executives.
His name’s on the building at Grammy Museum’s theater. What did he mean to the institution — not just for fundraising but as a living connection to music history?
He didn’t just donate to the museum. He donated his time, his historical knowledge of music, his firsthand perspective. He always kept tabs on what was happening in music. I always say the Clive Davis Theater is the toughest ticket in town for its intimacy and the level of programming we do. But he did an annual program at the museum where people could come hear stories directly from him. Once he decided he was in, he was all in.
His gala was the place to be every Grammy season too.
I don’t think anybody could gather a roomful of luminaries like that from entertainment, tech and politics in the way that Clive did. We were lucky to be a part of that. Even with the stature he had, he was still a physical presence there, he was approachable. He was always looked at as this living legend, but his legacy was continuously being built.
That’s true over the arc of his career, which saw him lead Columbia, Arista, J Records and more. He had a lot of resurrections as well as successes.
He had this ability to resurrect. Look at Santana and “Supernatural,” he was a producer on that album that was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame just last year. So many of us would just give up, but he just had this resolve to continue, and thank God he did.
The record industry is so different now than when he began his career. Artists find audiences on social media rather than being discovered by label executives. Is a career like his — a famous executive driven by their own taste and individual savvy — even possible today?
That’s true, artists break on social media before they’re even on record executives’ radars now. I don’t know if we’ll see that kind of career arc again. Clive had a rare combination of gravitas and being recognized so publicly. The man and his legacy are not going to be replicated.
Beyond the name on the theater, how do you hope the Grammy Museum will honor him with its programming in time to come?
I don’t know yet. We weren’t really prepared for this. We’re gonna have to sit down and think how to pay tribute to such a legacy. I think that the impact the Clive Davis Theater has, bringing in 120 artists a year — I couldn’t think of a more apropos name on the door.
GEMMA Collins spent years convincing the world she was living her best diva life – but behind the designer handbags and larger-than-life personality, there was a time when the empire she had worked so hard to build started crumbling around her.
Incredibly, the GC pulled herself back from the brink and banked more than £1.4 million last year. But friends say the feat would have been nearly impossible without the help of one very special man.
Gemma has admitted that Alan is the gatekeeper to her fortuneCredit: GettyGemma’s Dad is her rock and keeps her groundedCredit: Instagram
Those closest to Gemma have revealed the secret to the Romford-born star’s success is her dad, Alan, who is credited as the only person who can keep Gemma grounded.
A source tells us: “People see Gemma as this unstoppable force of nature, but behind the scenes, Alan has always been her rock.
“When things got difficult financially, he stepped in and took control.
“Gemma trusts him completely. There aren’t many people she would hand that responsibility to.”
For years, Gemma has openly admitted that Alan is effectively the gatekeeper to her fortune.
In one interview, she confessed: “My dad controls all my money. Seriously, I have to ask him if I want to upgrade my car.”
It’s a remarkable admission for a woman who has built a reported £4million fortune and can command up to £75,000 for a single sponsored Instagram post.
But those who know the family say it perfectly sums up their relationship.
Another source tells us: “Alan has always kept Gemma grounded.
“She’s the star, but he’s the sensible head behind the scenes.
“When she gets excited about a new project, he’s often the person asking the difficult questions.”
The latest figures suggest that the approach is paying off.
Accounts for her personal brand, Gemma Collins Ltd, show the company landed profits of around £1.4 million last year.
For fans who remember the financial turmoil of previous years, this is a huge turnaround.
A separate clothing business was later voluntarily dissolved, while her cosmetics venture, GemmaCollagen Ltd, survived for just a matter of months before disappearing altogether.
One insider tells us: “There was a period where it felt like every business venture came with a headache.
“Gemma never stopped working, but there were definitely lessons learned.
“That’s when Alan became more involved.”
It is perhaps fitting that Gemma’s biggest supporter is also somebody who understands business himself.
Alan built a successful career in shipping and has long been regarded as one of the most influential figures in his daughter’s life.
Fans caught a glimpse of their bond on her reality shows, where Alan frequently offered advice, not just about money but about life itself.
During one emotional conversation about her turbulent romance with James Argent, he told her: “You’ve just got to find some stability in your life when you find the right person.
Gemma’s parents, Alan and Joan, live with Gemma in her £1.3 million Essex home alongside fiancé RamiCredit: Refer to CaptionGemma will return to screens with a new Sky reality series, Four Weddings and a Baby, with RamiCredit: Splash
“As much as we all like Arg, you’ve got to decide if he’s the right person.”
He later added: “For my daughter, I want somebody who’s top dollar.”
Those close to the family say that attitude explains exactly why Gemma places so much trust in him.
One source tells us: “Alan isn’t interested in celebrity.
“He cares about Gemma being secure and looked after. That’s always been his focus.”
Their relationship has only strengthened in recent years.
She has also supported both Alan and mum Joan through a series of serious health scares, including Joan’s breast cancer diagnosis and terrifying hospitalisation last year after she stopped breathing.
The ordeal brought the family even closer together.
These days, Alan and Joan live with Gemma in her £1.3 million Essex home alongside fiancé Rami.
