As if the college sports world weren’t crazy enough with roster limitations and rising numbers in the transfer portal, a new trend that isn’t really new but is accelerating involves coaches telling players they will have little chance to play as motivation for the player to leave and open up a roster spot.
That’s how a coach escapes bad publicity for chasing off a player. But maybe the coach is being honest in their evaluation? It’s all part of the strange happenings taking place.
When one door closes, opportunity knocks on another. I want to thank all my family, friends, teammates and coaches who have reached out to me since learning of my involuntary decommittment. I know I will find a new home soon and it will be better than before.@IowaPremierFP
Check out social media to see the growing number of high school and junior college players suddenly searching for new schools this summer by saying, “My recruitment is back open” or announcing an “involuntary decommitment.”
Just this week, Ole Miss is facing criticism after a longtime high school baseball commit from Iowa who has been battling cancer for three years, Brett Harris, said he had his baseball scholarship pulled.
College baseball, in particular, is being disrupted. Members from the high school class of 2027 are being forced to reopen their recruitment as schools take into consideration a new NCAA rule giving players five years of eligibility across five years.
Braden Ruiz, a Mater Dei High graduate who played shortstop at Cypress College, signed with Oregon last January. Last month he asked for his release from Oregon.
“It was the vibe I was getting,” Ruiz said. “They said I could still go up there and give it a shot. The conversations were they didn’t seem interested as before. I decided to decommit. The coach who recruited me ended up leaving Oregon a week later.”
Ruiz played with a hamstring injury at Cypress College last season.
“It’s all about performance,” he said. “If you’re not performing, it makes the coaches think differently.”
Ruiz has come to understand how college sports has become a business.
“They pretty much can do whatever they want,” he said. “They can pull your offer or in the conversations tell you you’re not wanted anymore. But it’s part of their job. They need to win to keep their job.”
Mater Dei coach Richard Mercado said he’s advising parents and players “if a school is giving out NIL money, it’s a business. You’re not going there to be friends with the coach. It’s a business relationship. They have to win immediately and with limited roster spots. They can’t be wrong.”
Players being pushed away to open a scholarship spot is not new. It’s happened in all sports. College baseball coaches have been engaged in a balancing act for years. Remember the days when Division I schools were limited to 11.7 scholarships. Players were being given partial scholarships and coaches had to project who might leave or stay after the amateur draft. Now college programs can offer full scholarships (think SEC), but rosters dropped to a maximum 34 players last season, forcing coaches to revise and regroup.
Add the impact of no more transfer restrictions and it’s understandable there’s uncertainty. The word loyalty is going to cease to exist in many programs.
So what’s the advice to players and parents?
Betting on yourself still works. If someone doesn’t want you, find someone who does.
“Everybody’s journey is different,” Ruiz said. “You can commit early or late. I would say people who commit now will make it on campus. Their past season was probably good. People performing better more recently have a better chance of playing.”
Do research to find programs that stick with old-fashioned rules and commitments and maybe mention academics.
On Thursday, Ruiz signed with New Mexico State. He’s one of the fortunate ones finding a school with a roster opening this summer before Saturday’s amateur draft begins. He’ll have three years of eligibility left. He’s finally healthy and can’t wait for the day he gets to play against Oregon.
If he becomes a standout, who knows, maybe the Ducks will want him again in this new world of college athletics.
U.S. forward Christian Pulisic heads to the locker room at halftime during the loss to Belgium.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
More Americans are playing for bigger clubs and having more success in Europe than ever before, but that pipeline has yet to produce a true superstar. Many of the teams that have had success in this tournament have at least one player — Mbappé, Haaland, Lionel Messi, Harry Kane — who can change the game on their own.
The U.S. doesn’t have anyone who would be sure to start on any of the World Cup semifinalists and until it does, closing the gap will be difficult.
“We are USA and [we’re] competing against Belgium, Portugal,” Pochettino said last March. “I think for sure Belgium and Portugal have [players] in the top 100. We don’t.”
He is right. When the Guardian published its annual list of the world’s top players last winter, Christian Pulisic, the top American, didn’t make the top 100. And he didn’t play a full game in this tournament, missing one to injury, leaving three early and entering another as a late second-half substitute. He played just 223 minutes — 19 more than Ricardo Pepi — and finished with one assist.
Landon Donovan was arguably the closest thing to a game-changing player the U.S. had, so it’s no surprise he scored key goals in the team’s most important World Cup games in the last 32 years: one against Algeria in stoppage time in 2010 that allowed the Americans to finish atop their group for the first time since 1930, and another against Mexico in the round of 16 in 2002, sending the team to the quarterfinals for the only time.
If those are structural things that have long held U.S. Soccer back, there also were issues specific to this team, a supposed Golden Generation whose core was formed in the wake of the failure to qualify for the 2018 World Cup.
The talent was undeniable, which led to great expectations. But what has this generation accomplished? Two round-of-16 exits in the World Cup, one Gold Cup title in the last four tournaments — the team’s worst stretch this century — a fourth-place finish in the last Nations League and a group-stage departure in the last Copa América.
Impressive wins over Paraguay and Australia to start the World Cup gave the Golden Generation a bit of a shine and suggested progress. But when the Americans met a top-10 team in Belgium, the matchup proved a mismatch.
“We want to have higher hopes,” Pulisic said. “We want to be able to go and compete with some of the best in the world. We just still have that next step to climb.”
Against Belgium, that step looked as steep as Mt. Everest.
On a recent summer day at Crossroads School for Arts & Sciences, students ambled through yawns, braces and acne into their creative writing class. The day’s lesson tackled “style,” that elusive, ultra-subjective choice of expression.
“Who was the first author you encountered to do something different on the page?” asked the teacher, Clarke E. Andros.
They named Dr. Seuss, Shel Silverstein and Lemony Snicket before moving on to a précis of Joy Williams’ flash fiction. “These stories are weird — she’s weird,” Andros warned.
In some ways, high school looks much the same as it did 20, even 100 years ago: sleepy eyes either light up or glaze over when a teacher poses a Socratic question. Nervous laughs and unexpected insights emerge as young people use stories to make sense of themselves and the world around them.
(Fingerprint; Penguin Classics; Pantheon)
The idea of the “Great American Novel” took shape in the aftermath of the Civil War, when a fractured nation looked to literature to define itself. As classrooms evolved, so did the canon that reflected America’s changing identity.
But the syllabus today is at a tipping point. Forces — some visible, some harder to see — are upending literature and education itself. American students are in a decade-long reading recession, while fewer students are reading for pleasure than in previous generations.
Reading scores among high school seniors are at their lowest in decades, according to federal testing data, while schools across the country are grappling with how to respond to waning attention spans and artificial intelligence. The Los Angeles Unified School District has begun a course correction, voting to limit student use of laptops and tablets during class — the first major American school system to do so.
We spoke with five high school English teachers across the city — three from LAUSD, one from a charter and one from a private school — to find out what literature belongs in today’s classroom, and which stories can help us understand America, past and present.
Interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.
Raquel Olvera, Roosevelt High School, Boyle Heights
What books in the American literary canon are you teaching (old and new)?
In 11th-grade American Literature, as part of the LAUSD-approved Odell curriculum, we read four book options: “Friday Night Lights,” “Beloved,” “The Great Gatsby” and “The Warmth of Other Suns.” For my 10th-grade World Literature course, I like “Antigone” and “Things Fall Apart.” I also teach “In Cold Blood,” using it to explore Americans’ fascination with true crime and what the genre reveals about race, gender, class and the justice system.
(Simon & Schuster; Sky Publishing; Vintage)
What’s one work from the canon adults should revisit today?
“The Great Gatsby.” When I read it in high school, I wasn’t engaging with its undercurrents of racism, xenophobia, antisemitism, gender or sexuality in the way I do now. Its themes of power, wealth, consumerism and American identity remain as relevant as ever.
What are English teachers up against in the classroom in 2026?
Besides large class sizes and underfunding, I think public educators are largely battling apathy. Students and young people aren’t engaging with books like they used to. A side effect of that is a lack of empathy and curiosity. At the very least, you can model what it means to be a reader and a writer, and hope that years later, students remember that one nerd English teacher who showed them what humanity can look like.
Schehrezade Lodhy, Da Vinci Schools, El Segundo
What books in the American literary canon are you teaching (old and new)?
Students really enjoy Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible” — it’s all about the human condition and cancel culture, forbidden love and lies and deceit, with witches in the forest. In poetry, we explore a range of American voices, from Walt Whitman and Langston Hughes to Amanda Gorman, and sometimes even song lyrics. I also use “The Moth: Storytelling” podcast when students are working on personal essays. The goal is to make literature, poetry and storytelling as accessible as possible. At a charter school, we have quite a bit of autonomy with what we teach.
What’s one work from the canon adults should revisit today?
James Baldwin’s “Giovanni’s Room” and “Go Tell It on the Mountain.” I read Baldwin a few summers ago, and that was quite an education for me. Unfortunately, some of the content is a bit too mature for high school, but I do talk about Baldwin a bit in my classes when we cover African American authors.
(Reader’s Library Classics; W. W. Norton & Company; Simon & Schuster)
What are English teachers up against in the classroom in 2026?
Artificial intelligence, big time. I really pared back technology in my class, and we’ve pivoted back to paper and pencil. Going into my 18th year of teaching, my biggest goal is re-creating that experience of thinking critically for oneself and studying literature through a critical lens. We’re in this era of going back to the basics. With decreased attention spans, teachers are being forced to become even more creative. It feels like we’re reinventing ourselves every year.
Aiden Brown, John F. Kennedy High School, Granada Hills
What books in the American literary canon are you teaching (old and new)?
From an educationally traditional background, I still believe in canon disruption — mixing the new and old. In American Lit, I’ve taught “Their Eyes Were Watching God” 11 times now. It’s a hard one to get on the first try because the vernacular is so particular, but when we read it physically while also listening to the audiobook, it’s such a great novel to hear. I pair it with bell hooks’ “All About Love.” I teach “Macbeth” from a performance-based lens, making it less intimidating. My favorite book is “Frankenstein,” written by a teenage girl who invented science fiction. My ninth-graders’ favorites were “Fahrenheit 451,” “The Odyssey” (Emily Wilson translation) and “Persepolis,” a graphic novel about a girl discovering punk rock and rebelling against the established order.
What’s one work from the canon adults should revisit today?
All of the lonely young men need to reread “The Great Gatsby,” and anyone freaked out by the state of the world should read “Parable of the Sower.” One quote from the book hangs on a poster board in my classroom: “A community’s first responsibility is to protect its children — the ones we have now and the ones we will have.”
What are English teachers up against in the classroom?
Teenagers are still the funniest people on the planet. As the world around them becomes more atomized, I find that they’re increasingly interested in connection. In the classroom, we are seeing skill loss and a decreased ability to focus on a task. I don’t think that’s just because of AI or the pandemic — it’s also phones, screens and the world kids are growing up in. One thing teachers seem to agree on is a return to pen and paper.
Clarke E. Andros, Crossroads School, Santa Monica
What books in the American literary canon are you teaching (old and new)?
A newer addition I would recommend is “Hunger: A Novella and Stories” by Lan Samantha Chang. Especially in California, we have a lot of great Asian American literature, including works by Amy Tan, but I enjoy the writing level in Lan’s — it’s accessible to students but pushes them, all about intersectional identity and the first-gen experience. A lot of the Latino students I’ve taught in Los Angeles also connect with that book.
(Penguin Classics; Grand Central Publishing; Mariner Books Classics)
What’s one work from the canon adults should revisit today?
“Of Mice and Men.” Revisiting it today opens up deeper conversations about labor, social conciousness and power. Steinbeck creates a microcosm of American society, where disability, gender, race and class are all represented and shaped by an economic hierarchy. The characters are left navigating a world where people often turn on each other rather than challenge the systems around them. It’s novella-length, so you could read it in a Sunday morning.
What are English teachers up against in the classroom in 2026?
We’re up against systems that often prioritize ed-tech and third-party vendors over smaller class sizes and more teachers. When I was at LAUSD, it was clear from our superintendent — who just stepped down over his fraud investigation — was just in bed with tech. It’s hard for me to imagine the folks in power didn’t look at [the failed AI chatbot venture] and see it as a grift.
On the flip side, at hyper-competitive, elite schools like this, students are approaching high school with college in mind rather than with high school in mind. When students understand the value of the process, they’re less likely to look for an easy shortcut like AI.
Adam Tan, Los Angeles Center for Enriched Studies, Mid-City
What books in the American literary canon are you teaching (old and new)?
With independent reading, memoirs are big, like “Crying in H Mart” and Sylvia Plath’s fictionalized “The Bell Jar.” Younger kids gravitate to “Musashi,” a celebrated epic based on a famous samurai. We have a lot of Korean American students here, so they like “Pachinko,” dealing with racism and the Korean population in post-World War II Japan. I’ll also throw in “The Bluest Eye.”
In ninth grade, we read “Slaughterhouse-Five,” “Of Mice and Men,” “The Thief and the Dogs” and “Romeo and Juliet,” with the film adaptations to use media literacy. In American Literature, the major texts are “The Great Gatsby,” “The Things They Carried” and “The Crucible.” We also read nonfiction articles, including pieces on AI and robots, while focusing on rhetorical devices.
(Blackstone Publishing; Knopf; Little, Brown and Company)
What’s one work from the canon adults should revisit today?
“The Catcher in the Rye” benefits from the distance of adulthood. It’s a novel about disillusionment and the search for identity, but when you revisit it, you also see that it’s very much a love story. I often encourage students to look for forms of love beyond romance — love for family, friends and fellow human beings. Even today, students can tell you that the biggest phony in the book is Holden himself. The novel reminds us that while literature may not have answers to the world’s problems, it can help us examine our wounds and find solace in art.
What are English teachers up against in the classroom in 2026?
A lack of accountability in the modern world. In general, we have a school district focused on 100% graduation rates, no F’s. [LAUSD] wanted everything on computer, and now they want less computer time, which is great, but not everyone at top management is on the same page. Teachers are often trying to balance what the district wants with what we know our students need.
What I try to instill instead is an intrinsic desire to grow as a thinker. How do you make sure students are reading without taking the joy out of it? A lot of us are going back to pen and paper. Despite all the concerns about AI, I still think the soul and spirit of young people is as strong as ever. The core is not rotting.
“I’ve talked about rain on this show more than I have in my entire life,” Kittrell says.
It was a constant consideration, both on set and in the writers room. Weather became a way to distinguish Elle from those around her in Seattle. The locals never carry umbrellas; Elle shows up with a pink one.
“We had a writer from Seattle who always said the city gets a bad rap because of the rain,” Kittrell says. “But the rain is what makes it beautiful — it makes Seattle green.”
Elle entering the halls of Rainier West High School with her pink umbrella.
(Kimberley French / Prime Video)
That philosophy stayed with the writers, later showing up in a line Miles (Jacob Moskovitz), Elle’s crush, says to her, and ultimately leading them to Garbage’s “Only Happy When It Rains” as the show’s theme. “We were like, of course,” says Kittrell. “This is what we’ve been talking about the entire time.”
The song was originally meant to end the pilot. “Then we decided we should just be hearing it in every single episode,” says Neustadter. (The pilot instead uses Radiohead’s “Creep,” which also bookends the series.) The main title sequence, an animated “saga sell” from the studio Shine, tells the story of Elle’s move from Bel-Air to Seattle.
“We’re constantly reminding the audience of the contrast between Elle’s essence and the world she’s now in,” Neustadter adds. “There’s an optimism to ‘Only Happy When It Rains’ that feels very Elle Woods. And the irony of it is so delightful.”
For the second straight year, the City Section is allowing a pilot program of high schools forming a boys flag football league as its popularity grows.
This year’s group of high school participants is expected to double in size between eight and 16 teams, City Section commissioner Vicky Lagos said. All will be small charter schools. Last year, several teams that temporarily dropped 11-man football, Sotomayor and Torres, had flag teams in a league that was played in the fall. Sotomayor and Torres will have 11-man teams this season.
When Lagos mentioned the pilot boys flag football league at an 11-man coaches meeting this month, there was clear skepticism voiced by coaches. If boys flag football ever gets approved, Lagos said schools would have to choose between having an 11-man team or a flag team. When Lagos mentioned having the flag season in the spring, there was concern it would take away participants from track and field teams.
This issue figures to come up around the state as schools in the California Interscholastic Federation have similar discussions. Flag football is likely to gain a boost in exposure when it is played at the 2028 Olympic Games in Los Angeles.
Lagos points out that boys flag football participants would be different than 11-man. Middle school students engage in flag football and attract students whose parents don’t want them to play 11-man tackle football for fear of head injuries.
Girls flag football is in its fourth year and rising fast. Adding boys flag football is a debate and issue that will need to be addressed in the future.
Ron Nocetti, executive director of the CIF, said a section must first bring up adding boys flag football as a sport before real discussions can begin.
Few players are driven to club soccer practice by a national team player. But then few players have two sisters who play for the U.S. women’s team.
Also Zoe Thompson is just 14, so you can’t expect her to drive herself.
But here’s the thing that truly sets Zoe Thompson apart. Although eldest sister Alyssa, 21, has already played in a World Cup and middle sister Gisele made 38 NWSL appearances and played four times for the national team before her 20th birthday, Zoe may actually be the best of the three.
“She’s better technically,” said her father Mario Thompson, who coached all three.
“I think she’s the combination between Alyssa and Gisele,” said Carlos Marroquin, owner of the pre-professional women’s team that gave Alyssa and Gisele their start.
So maybe there should be a line of coaches, teammates and family members waiting to drive her to practice or to her debut with Marroquin’s team, the Santa Clarita Blue Heat, on Saturday evening at The Master’s University.
The Santa Clarita Blue Heat coach Leonardo Neveleff, center, talks to his team before a practice at Valencia High. Zoe Thompson makes her debut with the team Saturday.
The team, which competes in USL W league, has long been a summer proving ground for elite college players and aspiring pros with alumni that includes Venezuela’s Deyna Castellanos, once a finalist for FIFA’s world player of the year award; World Cup veterans Savannah DeMelo and Ashley Sanchez; former Chelsea and Atlético Madrid star Ana Borges of Portugal; and Natalia Kuikka, a five-time Finnish player of the year.
This year’s roster includes more than two dozen Division I college players, meaning Zoe Thompson will be playing with and against women much older than her.
Did we mention she’s still in middle school?
“She’s always having to get out of her comfort zone, no matter what,” said Mario Thompson, whose job as Zoe’s father is to both nurture and protect his daughter’s talent.
Zoe has followed a different path than her sisters. Alyssa and Gisele were born less than 13 months apart and grew up playing together, practicing together and pushing each other. Zoe, born seven years later, grew up watching them, imitating them and wanting to be them.
But she had to do the work alone.
“It’s a unique dynamic where Alyssa and Gisele had each other,” their father said. “It wasn’t just Alyssa by herself. She always had a partner.”
Zoe, however, observed a lot by watching.
“I feel like their mistakes helped me,” she said. “But at the same time, there are some mistakes that I’ve made that they haven’t. I’m learning differently, but I’m more learning from them.”
Zoe Thompson hugs her father Mario Thompson after practice at Valencia High.
Still, this is uncharted territory. No family has ever had a trio of siblings play for the women’s national team, and the pressure of having to match the success her sisters have had will be inescapable, if unfair, for Zoe.
It’s a level of pressure that has the potential to be crushing.
“She kind of has this expectation that’s put upon her already that ‘oh, she’s going to be like her sister,’” Gisele said. “But it’s her own life.”
And Mario Thompson, an elementary school principal who has been intimately involved in all his daughters’ careers, is having to negotiate all this on the fly.
“Everyone sees the glam and the glitz of Alyssa and Giselle, but people don’t really understand it’s a lot of pressure,” he said of the sisters, who will both be heading to Brazil with the national team next week. “They see all the great stuff, but it’s also their job.”
Mario Thompson faced some of the same issues with Alyssa, the second-youngest U.S. woman to play in a World Cup, so he limited her media interviews and tried to let her be a teenager — albeit it an exceptionally talented one. Zoe faces the additional burden of having do all that while following in her sisters’ footsteps.
“I’m very mindful and aware of that,” he said. “She’s already in the spotlight without having to be in the spotlight. It’s that pressure. I want her to love the sport, love this journey. That’s kind of how I raised all three of them.”
Zoe Thompson during a practice session in preparation for her debut with the Santa Clarita Blue Heat soccer team.
For her part Zoe, mature well beyond her tender age, dismisses the hype with a shrug.
“There are going to be comparisons,” she said. “But we’re such different people that I think it’s unfair. At the same time, they can have those comparisons, they can have those opinions, but I’m not them. So it’s not going to be any different, how I play.”
Plus, having two accomplished sisters has its advantages. In the spring Zoe trained with the youth teams at Chelsea, where Alyssa now plays, and this summer she says she’ll train with Angel City, Gisele’s team. But the drawback of being a (much) younger sister is Alyssa and Gisele had each other to lean on growing up. Zoe has had to go it alone and that, she said, has made her stronger.
“Mentally, it is harder. But seeing my sisters and where they are, it’s kind of a motivation for me,” said Zoe, who has already been called in three times by the U-14 national team. “They were kind of at the same place I am. And it’s just very motivating to see them where they are. That’s just kind of where I want to be.”
If there’s been one constant in the girls’ soccer careers it’s been their dad, who has been intimately involved in with all three, drilling them in the backyard of their Studio City home or walking them down the street to a park, where they shared the lumpy grass with softball players and unleashed dogs.
They were often, but not always, willing participants since the family didn’t have a TV when the girls were growing up.
Zoe Thompson controls the ball during a training session in preparation for her debut with the Santa Clarita Blue Heat soccer team.
And while the hours and hours of practice certainly honed the sisters’ skills, their parents can’t explain where the girls got their immense physical gifts. Mario played football and basketball and ran track at Occidental College with modest success while his wife, Karen, an occupational therapist, played basketball and ran cross-country in high school, hardly the pedigree that could be expected to produce three world-class soccer players.
Perhaps part of the answer lies in their unique DNA, a mix of Mario’s Black and Filipino background and Karen’s Italian and Peruvian roots.
“It was never the plan, ‘Hey, let’s have some soccer players’,” Mario said.
But once the sisters decided that was their plan, the parents had to adjust. The girls had rare talent, Mario Thompson quickly realized, and it had to be developed. So Alyssa and Gisele began playing with an elite boys’ team while they were still in high school and passed up scholarships to Stanford to sign lucrative contracts with Angel City while their were teenagers.
Zoe has chosen another way, playing with Tudela FC, an all-girls team that practices near her home, and with the Blue Heat, where she’ll be facing stronger, more mature players for the first time. Mario Thompson hopes those aren’t the only differences, although he said the road his youngest daughter takes will ultimately be up to her.
“My hope is she goes through college and just goes a different pathway, different journey,” Mario Thompson said. “It’s a roller-coaster ride and so for [Zoe], I think she sees that roller-coaster ride and I don’t know if it’s a rush to let me get to that. She wants to eventually be a pro, but I don’t think it’s ‘I need to get there as soon as possible.’”
“It’s Zoe, what do you want?” he added. “It’s not like you have to be here, you have to do this. It’s none of that. It’s about, ‘Hey, Zoe, this is your journey.’ We want you to enjoy it, have fun with it, be happy with it.”
She appears to be accomplishing all three of those goals. She’s also both confident and comfortable in her abilities and believes she’s already ahead of both her sisters despite the weight of expectation.
Zoe Thompson with head coach Leonardo Neveleff at the conclusion of a training session in preparation for her debut with the Santa Clarita Blue Heat soccer team. Thompson, 14, is the younger sister of U.S. women’s soccer players Gisele and Alyssa Thompson.
But she’s also well aware of the pitfalls ahead, having seen Alyssa and Gisele occasionally stumble into them.
“Yeah, it is a lot of pressure but I feel like we just had different paths,” she said. “They didn’t really know they were going to do soccer. They didn’t know that was their sport. But I feel like that path was set for me.
“It was just like I grew faster. I kind of took the understanding of what they were doing, and then I did it a little faster.”
There are other differences as well. Gisele is a defender and Alyssa a forward, but Zoe plays in the midfield. And while it was sometimes difficult to get anything more than a giggle from Alyssa in an interview even after she turned pro, Zoe already gives complete, thoughtful answers to most questions.
Zoe’s game is also different; while Alyssa and Gisele are both exceptionally fast, Zoe relies more on her skill.
“Zoe’s more technical than her sisters at this stage,” her father said. “She’s better on the ball, she has a better understanding of the game. A lot of their game was because of speed. Hers is more thinking, hers is more of the ball on her feet.
“Technically, she’s better and understands the game at this age.”
Gisele, the sister who chauffeurs Zoe to practice in Santa Clarita, agrees. But, she adds, Zoe’s greatest strength may actually be her desire.
“She just has so many great qualities that me and Alyssa don’t have,” she said. “At her age, she wants it way more than we did. She loves soccer with a passion. Me and Alyssa didn’t love it as much as she does.”
And if that passion translates to performance, Zoe will someday join her sisters on the national team. By then she may even be in the driver’s seat.
Santa Clarita Blue Heat team owner Carlos Marroquin talks to Zoe Thompson after a training session at Valencia High.
The Southern Section will hold its four track and field prelims on Saturday at four high schools, but lots of focus will take place at the Division 3 meet at Yorba Linda.
Servite, with its outstanding sprinters, and Sherman Oaks Notre Dame, with sprinters, hurdlers and shotputters, will be trying to qualify their best athletes in preparation to battle it out at the Southern Section championships on May 16 at Moorpark High.
“We’re trying to qualify but also build upon all our races,” Servite coach Brandon Thomas said.
Servite looks finally healthy. Robert Gardner, a sprinter who was hurt all season, ran 10.87 seconds last week in the 100 meters in his comeback race. He’ll be one of four Servite athletes trying to qualify in the 100. Another previously injured athlete, Jaelen Hunter, has also returned and will be in the 400.
Notre Dame’s Brayden Borquez recovered from his spill at the Arcadia Invitational to win the 110 hurdles last week at the Mission League finals. JJ Harel, the defending state champion in the high jump, is also gearing up to score points in the long jump and triple jump.
The ninth in an occasional seriesof profiles on Southern California athletes who have flourished in their post-playing careers.
When the Dodgers drafted David Lesch in January 1980, they had visions of his fastball lighting up radar guns at Dodger Stadium.
He never made it that far.
Lesch never climbed above the lowest rung on the minor league ladder, where he pitched just 10 innings and gave up more runs, hits and walks than he got outs. Less than 18 months after he was drafted, Lesch, wracked by a rotator cuff injury, was released, his major league dream over before he was old enough to legally buy a beer.
“I went to Disney World after that,” he said.
But that wasn’t the only decision the Dodgers made that changed Lesch’s life. When he was drafted, the team gave him just a small bonus, but sweetened the deal by offering to pay for college if he ever went back to school. For the team, it seemed a safe bet.
“They probably have this algorithm saying ‘this is the No. 1 draft pick. If he doesn’t make it, he’s not going back to college. He’ll be assistant baseball coach of his high school or something,’” Lesch said.
Oops.
Lesch not only went back to college, but he also wound up getting three degrees, including a master’s and a PhD from Harvard. It was arguably the most important investment in humanity the Dodgers made since signing Jackie Robinson, because Lesch went on to become one of the world’s top experts on the Middle East, writing 18 books and more than 140 other publications while advising four presidents and a cadre of United Nations diplomats.
David Lesch interacts with students in his history class at Trinity University in San Antonio.
(Lucero Salinas / Trinity University)
“That was the best deal,” Lesch, 65, said by phone from San Antonio, where he is the Ewing Halsell Distinguished Professor of History at Trinity University.
“Without that I probably could not have said yes to Harvard because of the price. The Dodgers committed to paying.”
And by doing so, the Dodgers may have altered history just a bit.
Lesch’s regular meetings with Syrian president Bashar al-Assad, which ended with Lesch facilitating an important if temporary breakthrough in U.S.-Syrian relations? The diplomatic and conflict-resolution work in Syria and the wider U.N. initiatives on regional issues throughout the Middle East? The thousands of students Lesch inspired to go on to perform important diplomatic and public-service roles of their own?
None of that happens if Lesch’s shoulder had held on or if the Dodgers had reneged on their deal.
“It was very fortunate that he hurt his rotator cuff. Baseball’s loss is academia’s gain,” said Robert Freedman, a scholar and expert on Russian and Middle Eastern politics who taught Lesch at the University of Maryland Baltimore County.
“I’ve been teaching for, I guess, 60 years now and I can tell when a student can see a complex problem and can penetrate right to the heart of the problem very quickly. He was one of those students.”
Still, it took a slightly offhand comment from Freedman, who now teaches at Johns Hopkins, to launch Lesch on his post-baseball career.
“We were having lunch and he was looking for a project and I mentioned to him ‘you know, there hasn’t been a good American scholar doing work on Syria for many, many years,’” he said.
“That struck his interest.”
Playing a child’s game and managing life-and-death Middle East politics share very little in common. But Lesch made the transition seamlessly.
“It is like he’s several different people, or has been,” said journalist and author Catherine Nixon Cooke, whose book “Dodgers to Damascus: David Lesch’s Journey from Baseball to the Middle East” traces those parallel lives.
“I’m wondering if, in a sense, it all worked out the way it was supposed to,” Cooke continued. “Even though his dream was to be a major leaguer, David certainly has reinvented himself to this really remarkable man following a completely different path.
“It was the Dodgers who paid for him to go to Harvard and so it’s kind of a weird thing. Baseball took away his dream because he got hurt, but baseball also gave him his backup plan.”
Lesch was still a teenager when, 20 minutes into his first spring training camp in Vero Beach, Fla., Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda plucked him off a minor league practice field to pitch batting practice in the main stadium.
It was the first time — and nearly the last — that Lesch faced big-league hitters. And it didn’t start well.
Batting practice pitchers throw from behind an L-shaped screen that protects them from comebackers and Lesch had never used one. That, combined with his understandable nervousness, caused him to short-arm his first fastball, which sailed at Cey’s head, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
“He got up and gave me this mean look,” Lesch said. “I remember it so vividly right now. I really thought I was going to be released that day.”
Instead, he gathered himself and finished the session, earning pats on the back from both Garvey and Lasorda. The incident, he said, has colored the rest of his life.
“I’ve met with presidents, prime ministers, been in war zones, all sorts of things,” Lesch said. “Anytime I say ‘well, you know, this should make me nervous,’ I think about that episode and the fact that I made it through and did OK.”
In high school, Lesch had focused on basketball and baseball. Academics? Not so much. So after spending his freshman year of college at Western Maryland College, he transferred to Central Arizona, a junior college, so he would be eligible for the January 1980 draft, allowing him to trade his books in for a baseball.
The so-called secondary draft, which was discontinued six years later, was specifically targeted toward winter high school graduates, junior college players, college dropouts and amateurs who had been previously drafted but did not sign. As a result, the bonuses teams offered winter draft picks were just a fraction of what players taken in the June draft received.
Lesch’s was so low, he can’t even remember what it was.
“I want to say $10,000 to $15,000,” he said. “No more than $20,000.”
When it became clear the Dodgers weren’t going to budge on the money, Lesch’s father, Warren, a family physician in suburban Baltimore, pulled out the Harford County phone book and looked up the number for Baltimore Orioles coach Cal Ripken Sr. Lesch played high school ball against Ripken’s son Cal Jr., who had been a second-round draft pick of the Orioles two years earlier. So his father thought the Ripkens might have some advice on what to ask of the Dodgers.
David Lesch, a former Dodgers draft pick, stands on the baseball diamond at Trinity University in San Antonio.
(Lucero Salinas / Trinity University)
“Ripken goes ‘does your son like school and is he smart?’” Lesch’s older brother Bob remembers. “So Ripken suggested if they offer you XYZ bonus money, take less and say ‘I’ll take this amount, but you have to cover education if he doesn’t make it.’”
Neither side thought that clause would ever be triggered; Lesch, a big, intimidating right-hander who threw bullets from behind Coke-bottle eyeglasses, wasn’t headed to a classroom, he was going to Dodger Stadium.
Until he wasn’t.
Lesch missed a couple of weeks with a back injury. By overcompensating for the sore back, he developed paralysis in the ulnar nerve in his right arm, limiting him to five appearances in his first minor league season.
He arrived healthy for his second spring in Vero Beach and threw three no-hit innings in his first outing against double-A and triple-A players, creating such a buzz that Ron Perranoski, the Dodgers’ major league pitching coach, showed up to watch his second game. By then the shoulder and back stiffness that shortened his first season had returned, and Lesch was rocked. Perranoski left early and unimpressed.
Lesch’s delivery had one major flaw: He threw directly overhand, as opposed to three-quarters or even sidearm, which can increase velocity but also places additional strain on the shoulder and elbow. As a result, his fastball could top out in the mid-90s one day, but when the stiffness and pain returned, it left him throwing in the low 80s.
The inconsistency continued to plague Lesch, and eventually the Dodgers decided they’d seen enough and released him. When he got back to Maryland, Lesch’s father sent him to see an orthopedic surgeon, who found the problem wasn’t in his back or elbow but rather the rotator cuff.
“We didn’t live in the era of pitch counts. So he just pitched,” said David Souter, a high school and college teammate who went on to develop big-league pitchers.
“He had the ability if he was developed and stayed healthy. I think he probably overthrew and tore his rotator cuff and nobody knew it.”
If Lesch had come along 10 years later, when rotator cuff surgeries were common, he might have returned to the mound. But in 1981, a rotator cuff injury was a death sentence for a pitcher.
“It’s just a crapshoot based on physiology,” Lesch said. “I probably was destined. Something would have happened.”
If he could do it over again, Lesch said he would change one thing.
“I’d throw sidearm,” he said. “It’s much less stress.”
He threw to big league hitters just one more time. Following the strike that interrupted the 1981 season, Ripken Sr. phoned Lesch back and asked him to throw batting practice at Memorial Stadium to help the Orioles prepare for the resumption of play. As a reward, the Orioles let Lesch hit — he never had batted in the minors — and he drove a pitch over the left-field wall, then dropped the bat and walked away.
He never stepped on a major league field again.
The Dodgers’ investment in Lesch’s education appeared manageable when he enrolled at a satellite campus of the University of Maryland, in part because his brother Bob was the school’s sports information director.
But it was 1981 and the Middle East was at the forefront of geopolitics. Lesch became convinced the Middle East would be central to world affairs for decades to come. Inspired and encouraged by Freedman and another professor, Lou Cantori, he applied to graduate school at Harvard, Georgetown, Johns Hopkins and the University of Chicago, knowing he couldn’t afford any of those schools on his own.
“I probably could not have said yes to Harvard when they accepted me because of the price,” Lesch said. “The Dodgers had committed to paying and whatever it was, it was a lot more collectively — my undergraduate MA and PhD — than I had gotten in the bonus.”
That wasn’t the only time his baseball background worked in his favor. Years after starting at Harvard, Lesch stumbled upon written evaluations of his application and learned that his grade-point average and other factors were similar to those of other applicants, but it was his athletic career that had swung enough votes in his favor to get him accepted.
“Failure is at the core of sports. And so you have to have this resiliency,” Lesch said. “What a lot of the top colleges have found is that these young kids out of high school who somehow get a 4.6 GPA, they come in — and I’ve seen this as a professor — they get their first C and they’re distraught.
“Athletes stick with it. They say ‘how can I turn this around? How can I get better?’ Admissions departments across the board have looked at athletes much differently.”
The struggles Lesch experienced on the diamond did not follow him into academia. Yet becoming an expert on the Middle East definitely was a backup plan.
“His first passion was clearly baseball and basketball,” said Souter, the former teammate. “Every kid dreamed … that.”
If the shoulder injury wasn’t a strong enough sign that that dream was over, the fire that destroyed Lesch’s childhood home a few years later was. The flames, which severely burned both his parents, also erased his baseball career, consuming all the photos and memorabilia he had collected, save for the championship ring from his one minor league season, which he found buried in the embers. It was the only thing to survive the blaze intact.
David Lesch’s championship ring from his one minor league season, the only surviving keepsake of his professional career after a his family’s home was destroyed in a fire.
(Courtesy of David Lesch)
A post-graduate trip to Syria, the first of more than 30 visits he has made to the country, sealed the deal a few years later. The love he once had for baseball he now felt for a strange and mysterious place that was as old as history itself yet as secretive as the classical ciphers.
Soon Lesch was helping arrange high-level meetings between Syrian president Hafez al-Assad and President George H.W. Bush, a baseball fan who seemed as interested in Lesch’s Dodgers days as his Middle Eastern expertise. But his big break came during the first presidential term of Bush’s son George W. Bush, when Bashar al-Assad, who succeeded his father as Syria’s president, welcomed Lesch for the first of many interviews that informed his book, “The New Lion of Damascus: Bashar al-Assad and Modern Syria.”
“His forte is listening,” Cooke, the biographer, said of Lesch, whose polite, unassuming manner reflects an adult life spent mostly in San Antonio. “When he goes in to try to mediate something, he is a big listener. There is a side of David that doesn’t talk much. But he’s listening.”
The book humanized al-Assad and opened, for a time, the possibility of normalized relations between Syria and the West, with Lesch serving as an unofficial liaison between Damascus and Washington, as well as other Western capitals.
“He’s absolutely a critical player in what we would call two-track diplomacy,” Freedman said. “If the government wants to reach out but doesn’t want to take the political consequences, they send somebody to sound out the situation.
“It’s absolutely critical that we have people like that who can speak the language and understand the overall context, which sadly is lacking in the current administration.”
David Lesch teaches students in his history class at Trinity University in San Antonio.
(Lucero Salinas / Trinity University)
But that opening closed as quickly as it opened. Lesch’s close contacts with al-Assad raised suspicions among some in Syria, and Lesch was poisoned twice. His relationship with al-Assad was severed completely shortly afterward when he criticized al-Assad for failing to implement promised reforms and becoming a “bloodthirsty tyrant.” The Syrian civil war took nearly 700,000 lives and displace another 6.7 million people before al-Assad and his family fled into exile in Russia in 2024.
“Many governments think that they can reduce war to a calculation,” Lesch said. “What we cannot measure accurately or fully appreciate is the human element. We cannot assess a people’s sense of grievance, passion, revenge, ideological commitment and historical circumstances that shaped the nature of their response and staying power.
“This is where academics can make a contribution to policy, giving it the depth and insight gleaned from years of study and learning the culture and the people.”
Baseball’s loss wasn’t just academia’s gain. It may prove to be humanity’s as well.
“I don’t really have any regrets,” Lesch said. “My career turned out great. I could not think of doing anything else at this point and, in fact, in a way I’m glad [baseball] didn’t work out.”
