kid

Young faces lit up with joy as award winners bounced to the podium. But it wasn’t only the elementary school recipients. The Westlake High students who created the ceremony were equally thrilled.

The teens are part of Make Great Plays, a grassroots organization that gives elementary school students a chance to dream, excel and believe they belong in educational echelons that once felt out of reach.

Dhuruv Sankararaman, a Westlake High junior and baseball player, launched Make Great Plays nearly four years ago, starting by collecting and donating sports equipment to the five Title 1 schools in the Conejo Valley Unified School District. (Title I public schools receive federal funding because they have a high percentage of students from low-income families.)

The mission quickly broadened. In the last year, Make Great Plays has conducted backpack and supply drives that outfitted more than 100 students and spent classroom time with students to increase computer literacy.

Maple Elementary in Newbury Park was one of the first schools that Sankararaman and his team helped.

“We picked up 100 backpacks full of supplies,” he said. “They made a huge difference to hand them out to everyone in need.”

‘Make Great Plays’ founder Dhuruv Sankararaman, left, and other Westlake High student-athletes give out awards at Maple Elementary in Newbury Park.

(Sai Krishna)

Next, they identified students who are especially helpful to the large autistic population at Maple and recognized them at an awards assembly. The Make Great Plays staff created five awards, one of each going to students in every grade: Inclusion Hero, Unity Champion, Global Ambassador, Hope Maker and Pathfinder.

“The kids are so excited to have high school students here to run the ceremony,” Maple principal Meghann O’Weger said. “Something feels different when the person giving the award is still a kid, but a bigger one. If adults came in and gave out the awards, it wouldn’t be the same as from peers.”

The 20 Make Great Plays members play soccer, baseball, lacrosse, tennis and volleyball at Westlake High. What began as a way to embellish college entrance applications has become a gratifying life experience for the teens as well as the elementary school students.

Sankararaman plans to expand Make Great Plays to schools in Los Angeles County and rural India, where his parents grew up.

“Some of the kids don’t have a stable home life and are behind in school,” Sankararaman said. “Spending time with them shifts their view a little bit. Many are incredibly smart. All the kids are very respectful. They listen to us as high schoolers and see us as role models.

“It’s cool to see faces light up when they realize how successful they can become, that they have the possibility of a great future.”

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email eric.sondheimer@latimes.com.

Ranting about the decline of comedy specials while releasing a new one at the same time feels a bit like an oxymoron. But somehow it still makes sense coming from alt-comedy pioneer David Cross, who isn’t just complaining; he’s finding his own route to making specials feel special again. The only way to do that is by putting one out in the manner he’d like to see more often — starting by making the whole crowd stand up too.

Capturing the energy of a concert at the famous 40 Watt Club in Athens, Ga., was the first step in differentiating “The End of the Beginning of the End” from the typical hour you watch on a big streamer. And, with this new special, Cross is able to get back to his own beginnings of touring across the country with love bands as his openers, performing for crowds for as long as he could until he had to run offstage to pee.

Premiering the special earlier this month on his website (and on April 7, it will be available on YouTube via production company 800 Pound Gorilla), Cross is hoping the special connects with comedy fans in a way that we’ve forgotten specials could.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity

Your new special is called “The End of the Beginning of the End.” What does that title mean to you as it relates to the impending doom of what we’re all living right now.

David Cross: Well, you can look at it in a couple different ways. To me, it signifies that the beginning of the end has occurred. And we are now at the end of the beginning of the end. And from where you go with that, that’s for you to decide.

One of the things I love about the special is the fact that you shoot it at a club in the style of a live–music concert.

I’ve shot specials in theaters and it’s just different, not that one is better than the other, but they’re just different. You have a different relationship with the audience. When I first started touring, I would go to music venues and I’d have a band open for me and then I would just go up and pretty much [perform] as long as I could until I had to pee. Sometimes I’d have a band playing, sometimes two bands, then I’d go out. And I did that a couple of times, and then stopped doing that and did theaters, and I decided for the last two specials I’m going to go to, when I shoot it, I’ll go to a music venue, and I was at the 40 Watt Club in Athens this last time, I was at the Metro in Chicago before that, both places I played on earlier tours, and, you know, it’s not seated. People are standing there at the stage, and I prefer it. It’s more fun. It’s not as lucrative but, to me, a more fun show to do.

Comedian David Cross

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

The ambience of it was great. You can hear people shouting and drinking and having a good time, and the crowd work is also a little more spontaneous and fun than it would be in a regular venue.

Yeah, well, there’s more opportunity for that. But my thing has never been about crowd work. I like engaging with it, it’s kind of a nice distraction from the set that you’ve been doing 100 times, 150 times at that point. So it’s always fun to have that thing happen and that feeling of spontaneity. And like the guy [who I talk to in the crowd during the special], I could not have asked for [someone better]. I mean, even if it was scripted, it wouldn’t have been as good. The guy who [I talk to] during the stuff about hiking Machu Picchu [with Bob Odenkirk], that’s just… [chef’s kiss].

Speaking of Bob Odenkirk, you guys have this long relationship. How would you describe the dynamic of working with Bob and just how you guys bounce ideas off each other?

I mean, it’s great. We have an inordinate amount of respect for each other, both as people and as creative partners. And so there’s never any real issues. There’s things we will definitely disagree with, but we’re both decent people. So you know somebody backs off and says, “OK, let’s do it that way.” But even then, there aren’t that many of those [issues]. We just have really worked well at building something or molding it, creating it and shaping it. And our aforementioned hike to Machu Picchu, we have a documentary about that, that will be premiering at a fancy festival at some point in the near-future. And so we got that doc and we’ve been working on that. And for the way we work now, because he lives in L.A. and I live in New York, and it’s been like that for a while, he’ll write a bunch of stuff, I’ll make notes, I’ll write my things, send it back. And so we’re able to do that and not necessarily have to be in the same room because we’ve had 30-plus years of working with each other.

It’s a kind of like an unspoken language you guys probably have in terms of comedy, which is super important, I imagine, just for collaborating.

Yeah, and it’s something we discovered very early on … before there was even “Mr. Show,” what would ultimately become “Mr. Show,” when we got together to write sketches for this bigger kind of comedy collective thing, and these shows that we would all do with each other, for each other, and the stuff that we would write together was just, like, really good, easy writing — again, one person adding this thing and one person saying here’s a switch yeah and another person adding this thing in. It was fun, it’s cool, still is. One thing he doesn’t get credit for is he’s a really decent human being. And with all the awfulness in the world that’s magnified, every sense is bombarded with it — it’s just good to be hanging with somebody whose energy is a good person, a decent person and an equitable, nice guy, so that’s good as well.

Comedian David Cross poses for a portrait ahead of his comedy special “The End of the Beginning of the End.”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

One thing you guys also have in common is you both have kids, and he has a comedy show for kids called “The Appropriate Show.” Have you taken your daughter to see it?

It’s a sketch show [in which] all the sketches are appropriate for kids to watch. And the sketches have been done in other sketch shows onstage, live. And he puts together this thing once, twice a year here in L.A. And I took my daughter to it last year. It’s just sketches that kids can [understand]. At least if they don’t understand the actual references they get the archetype. “Oh, that’s the boss, that’s that uh… And it’s great, it’s a really cool idea uh… “ And would an ass— think of [a show like] that? No, one good decent person; a good man. But listen, this interview isn’t about me, it’s about Bob Odenkirk, so let’s get back to that.

Well, speaking of having comedy geared toward kids, your daughter’s at an age where she’s probably consumed or seen some of your comedy at this point.

Not, not really. No, no.

Do you shield her from your stuff, or are you not so concerned about it?

I don’t actively shield her, but I don’t introduce her to anything. So I was a little bummed out, and I got over it pretty quickly, but when I found out that she had seen a little bit of “Alvin and the Chipmunks,” and only because I don’t want to spoil the enjoyment of what movies are and what kids’ movies are and how things work. And I feel like that would introduce an element of reality that I want her to be able to just enjoy these things without — she’s seen “Kung Fu Panda”when she was younger, like, I don’t know, three, four, five times, has no idea that I’m in that, that my voice is in there. She knows I do stand-up, she gets that now. And when she was younger, she’d say, “Daddy’s silly for a living.” … I’m just trying to ride the balance of letting her have those childhood joys and experiences.

Comedian David Cross.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Does having a kid make you think about what’s coming up in the future of comedy, or what kids are gonna maybe find funny, or what they find funny now? Do you have any thoughts on kid comedy in general?

Not really. I mean, I can see that she and her friends, who are kind of like-minded, are naturally funny, and then that’s kind of encouraging and heartwarming and they’re silly, but I’ll be long gone when that generation is is providing comedy. And I’m still, although I’ve kind of given up, I’m still trying to grasp what works now. I mean, it’s short-term TikTok, Instagram stuff. There are some amazing, like really, really great things being done as far as film sketches for YouTube channels. “Almost Friday,” they’ve got genius-level stuff. I mean, really good. And where the sketch goes in a place, you’re never ahead of it, goes in a place where you’re not expecting. It’s really well written and well performed.

What are your thoughts on what a comedy special is nowadays or what it should be?

I mean, that’s a great question. I think anybody who plays with the form, whether I think it’s that funny or not, is different. But I’m happy when anybody kind of tries at least to play with a form. I just went to Rory Scovel‘s taping last week of his latest special. I don’t know when that’ll air, but if you’ve seen the beginning to his first special, stuff like that where you’re like, “Wait, what’s happening? What’s going on?” I love stuff like that.

I still get excited to watch specials by some of my favorite comics, but there’s a quality that’s missing. And these are stand-ups I love, and they’re not that great. They’re not bad but they’re not special, you know? And all those guys I mentioned, and more, have great specials. Like, you can go back and they’re great. And I don’t know why that is. I mean, there’s still funny stuff, but I don’t ever want to get to that place where its just feels a little phoned-in a little bit… that is, in part, why the last two specials were shot in this more intimate setting that feels special. And … as I said, the energy’s different, it’s a little bit different, and it’s less slick. It feels like you’re in the moment. You don’t need a million dollars to shoot a special. You don’t 28 camera angles, it‘s just bull—. And it takes something away.

Comedian David Cross

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

It all should feel the right amount of unsafe as well, I think.

That’s never gonna happen at a theater show. You’re never gonna feel that. And I don’t know, it really does feel almost like maybe we peaked in a sense, like there’s too much, and because of that, these things aren’t special. They’re not revelatory, they’re not unique. I dunno, can 18,000 people in an arena really relate to a … billionaire talking about how they’re gonna get canceled. I mean, is that a thing I guess? Those other big, slick specials that are shot in, like, a 3,200-seat, 3,500-seat theater, it just feels like, “Oh this person is up there and I’m listening to their jokes.” There’s nothing wrong with that. They’re often very funny jokes, but it doesn’t go beyond that. It’s just like, “All right, tell me your joke.” It might as well be an audio thing, you know?

Well, hopefully the robots aren’t coming for your job anytime soon.

Absolutely not. I mean, this could be naive, but I feel 100% safe that you are never going to replicate an evening of stand-up at a nigtclub like that. And not sitting down at tables while you’re having drinks and waitresses are coming by. I’m talking about everybody’s up on the stage, sold-out, maximum capacity; everybody’s there, focused, we’re all sharing that thing. You can’t. AI’s not going to be able to do that.

Yeah, the robots can’t do that, Terminator can’t do that..

Oh, I forgot about Terminator. He could do that. G— it.

Before becoming a global phenomenon in the 2000s thanks to artists like Aventura, Monchy y Alexandra and Prince Royce, and before being declared an “intangible cultural heritage of humanity” by UNESCO in 2019, bachata was — and continues to be — the soundtrack of the Dominican Republic.

The importance of the genre to the people of the Caribbean nation is at the heart of “Agridulce,” a music documentary that had its world premiere at this month’s South by Southwest Film Festival in Austin, Texas. Filmed over the course of five years, the feature follows four young students at Academia de Bachata, a music conservatory in the beachside resort town of Cabarete. It’s the only school of its kind in the world.

Academia de Bachata was founded in 2013 by music producer Benjamin De Menil. After traveling to the Dominican Republic to record for nearly three decades, De Menil says he wanted to create something that would ensure that the next generation continues the traditions of bachata.

“One of the things I loved about the bachata musicians I was working with early on is that they were such natural musicians. There was never any sheet music, so whenever we were going to record I would say, ‘Let’s do this song and it goes like this,’ and they would listen to it for a little bit before they figured it out and they were playing it,” he said. “I thought that we could somehow harness that energy in a more organized and educational format and make a school where we’re helping young children become professional musicians within this genre that has a lot of opportunity.”

De Menil partnered with DREAM Project, a nonprofit organization that did work in Cabarete, and launched Academia de Bachata in 2013. Since then, the school has provided hundreds of children with a free musical education.

“There were a lot of things we were trying to figure out along the way about what the best way to teach this music was because this wasn’t your typical conservatory. We were focusing on the traditions passed on rather than some style of music that there are already textbooks for.”

To make “Agridulce,” De Menil, who produced the film, reached out to Frank Pavich, director of the 2013 “Jodorowsky’s Dune,” the cult classic documentary about avant-garde filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowsky’s quixotic and failed attempt to adapt Frank Herbert’s 1965 sci-fi novel “Dune.” It didn’t take much to bring him on onboard.

“Ben contacted me and told me about the project. I responded with what’s Bachata?,” the Croatian American director said. “I had never even heard of the musical genre. And then he sent me some music. He sent me footage that he had shot of [Cabarete] and of the school. And it was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was so colorful and so incredible that I just wanted to jump on right away. I was like, ‘Great, when can we go down there and start shooting? It was really that fast.”

Pavich says now he hears bachata everywhere.

“I live between Switzerland and Croatia and now that I know how to pick it up, I hear it in cars passing by a cafe in Geneva and in Croatia,” he said. “It’s everywhere, it’s infiltrated everything in the best way possible.”

“Agridulce” is an ethnomusicological documentary — it captures the music of a specific place and people and shows how the tradition is kept alive — that also doubles as a coming of age story. The film follows students of varying ages — Edickson, Frandy, Orianny and Yerian — out of the classroom, showing us moments of intimacy with their families and friends while also giving us a slice of quotidian life in Cabarete.

As such, “Agridulce” doesn’t shy away from the political tensions of the beachside resort. Much like in the U.S., immigration is a contentious topic in the Dominican Republic — the country shares the island of Hispaniola with Haiti, which has seen an exodus of its people over the decade.

De Menil and Pavich said that nearly a third of Academia de Bachata’s student body is of Haitian descent, and that they would have had to go out of their way to not include one of them in the film.

This tension plays out in the storyline of Frendy, a magnetic student of Haitian descent who uses bachata to fit in.

“Many young people are in that position of being made to feel they don’t belong at that time in life when a person most wants to find their place,” De Menil said. “We see that music can help kids, particularly immigrant kids, find belonging.”

“The film ultimately speaks to the way that culture and shared history contribute to the development of authentic, lived creativity,” said South by Southwest consulting programmer Jim Kolmar. “It’s something innate and inevitable, and ‘Agridulce’ really explores that beautifully. Obviously it’s full of incredible music, but the deeper cultural context is essential, and seeing it through the perspective of the students at Academia de Bachata helps us connect the dots.”

THRILLING stunts, tough challenges, eager contestants and the stars of the ITV show themselves, the Gladiators Live Tour is returning.

Tickets go on sale in a matter of days for the 28 brand-new shows across the country.

Based on the popular TV show on ITV, Gladiators Live will be making a return to the stage this year after making its debut in 2025.

The show originally launched back in the 90s and is currently in its third revival.

On the show, contenders compete against Gladiators in a series of challenges to earn points – and soon, you’ll be able to watch it live.

There will be 28 shows across the UK at various venues from Aberdeen, to Glasgow, London, Manchester, Newcastle, Liverpool and Birmingham.

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Legendary Gladiators will storm back into the arena to face fearless contenders from previous seasons.

Fan-favourite challenges that are likely to take place during the live shows are Duel, Hang Tough, The Wall and The Eliminator.

The description of the event teases “iconic fan-favourite events, breathtaking stunts, epic head-to-head battles and the unforgettable Eliminator finale.

“With non-stop action, heroic showdowns and moments guaranteed to have the entire arena on its feet, Gladiators Live delivers edge-of-your-seat entertainment for the whole family.

“Audiences can expect a truly immersive, high-octane experience, as arenas are transformed into modern gladiatorial battlegrounds complete with purpose-built sets, spectacular lighting and cinematic staging.”

One reviewer to last year’s live tour called it ‘ultimate family entertainment’ and an audience member added “it was a great show! Felt like I was inside the tv.”

Another said it took them to being a “kid back in the 90s”.

The presale kicks off on March 26 at 9am with general sale on March 27, 2026.

Prices are yet to be confirmed, but tickets for the Liverpool show start from £48.45.

If you want even more of a Gladiators experience and would rather step up to the challenge yourself – you can.

The Gladiators Experience in Birmingham opens on May 2, 2026.

It will essentially become a gladiator training facility with all the classic challenges you’d expect plus some extras.

In the Vault, visitors will be able to see behind the scenes of the TV show.

There’s also a shop where fans can buy exclusive merchandise.

Dom Bird, senior vice president at MGM Alternative Television said: “Now, fans young and old will get one step closer to walking in the footsteps of their heroes, as we announce our brand new Gladiators Experience.

“Based at the NEC Birmingham, everyone finally has the chance to test their skills on the iconic games – from Duel and Hang Tough, to The Wall, and of course the legendary Travelator.

“Come and see if you’ve got what it takes!”

There are separate tickets depending on if you want to have a go or not.

For contenders, tickets start from £39.50, and spectators from £17.50.

For more on what to do with children, the UK’s strangest (and coolest) theme park launches new ‘crazy trikes’ attraction for 2026.

And London’s best family attraction that ‘feels like it was created for kids’ to get huge new nature playground.

Meta, YouTube and Snapchat are already under scrutiny for risks they pose for young people. Now they are facing another hurdle in their home state.

California lawmakers are considering legislation to restrict social media use for teens and children under 16 years old. Assemblymember Josh Lowenthal (D-Long Beach) and others introduced a bipartisan bill that would bar social media platforms from allowing users under 16 years old from creating or maintaining accounts.

The legislation comes amid mounting concerns about how social networks impact the mental health of young people. Anxiety among parents and lawmakers has heightened as platforms and AI chatbots become more intertwined with people’s daily life.

Last month, tech executives, including Meta’s chief executive and co-founder Mark Zuckerberg, testified in a landmark trial in Los Angeles over a lawsuit that alleges social media is addictive and harms children.

The trial centers on whether tech companies such as Instagram, which is owned by Meta, and YouTube can be held liable for allegedly promoting a harmful product and addicting users to their platforms.

California has passed legislation before aimed at making social media platforms and chatbots safer but faced pushback from tech industry groups that have sued to stop new laws from taking effect. Tech companies are have responded by releasing more parental controls and restrictions for young users.

Other countries have been moving forward with restrictions on social media. Last year, Australia barred children under 16 years old from having social media accounts.

TechNet, whose members include Meta and Google, said in a statement that it hasn’t taken a position on the California bill but doesn’t believe a ban will effectively achieve the Legislature’s goal’s.

“We support balanced, evidence-based solutions that strengthen protections for young people, equip parents with meaningful tools, and ensure accountability across platforms. Our companies have made significant investments in teen safety and parental controls, and we remain committed to building on that progress,” said Robert Boykin, TechNet Executive Director for California and the Southwest in a statement.

The use of social media by young people has divided tech executives.

Pinterest Chief Executive Bill Ready wrote in an op-ed in TIME published on Friday that governments should follow Australia’s lead and ban social media for kids under 16 years old if tech companies don’t prioritize safety.

“Social media, as it’s configured today, is not safe for young people under 16,” he said.”Instead, it’s been designed to maximize view time, keeping kids glued to a screen with little regard for their well-being.”

Lowenthal’s bill cited social media’s dangers such as “exposure to harmful content, compulsive use patterns, exploitation, and adverse impacts on mental health and well-being.”

“Existing age-based restrictions that rely primarily on user self-attestation have proven ineffective and place an unreasonable burden on children and families rather than on the entities that design, operate, and profit from social media platforms,” the bill states.

A spokesman for Lowenthal didn’t immediately respond to a request for comment.

Kountry Wayne likens the dream he’s currently living to an old sitcom that has made the world laugh for decades. “I feel like I’m the new version of ‘Beverly Hillbillies,’” he says. “I’m in Hollywood — I’m here, but I’m still not here, so I just think that’s the most country thing about me.” To his point, the comedian born DeWayne Colley has definitely hit the big time after getting his start in comedy in 2014 (trying his skills as a rapper before that) by working on his stage craft and cooking up Southern-fried viral skits inspired by his small-town Georgia roots. Fast-forward 12 years and his growing empire includes independent movies (including his upcoming film “That’s Her,” which he financed himself), a flood of both dramatic and comedy-driven short skits featuring a wide range of actors, a debut Netflix special (2023’s “A Woman’s Prayer”) and now his latest hour, “Nostalgia,” premiering Monday on Prime Video.

By spending a new hour looking back at a bygone period, specifically the ’90s, when Wayne grew up, the 38-year-old comedian is bringing a fresh approach to the Def Comedy Jam era that he hopes resonates with comedy fans of his generation and younger fans who found him through TikTok and had no idea he even did stand-up. As someone whose comedy career has skyrocketed over the last several years, Wayne’s sights continue to be set toward future opportunities to bring relatable humor to the masses who have that country cousin who walks, talks and jokes just like him.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

What does the word “Nostalgia” mean to you?

A good feeling. It means bringing people together through laughter like the good old shows back in the day — “Saved by the Bell,” “Family Matters.” It just is that feeling, whatever that feeling was that we couldn’t put in a jar, I wanted to bring that in my special to just make everybody laugh and forget about the stuff that’s always gonna be here — bills and drama and violence. Just take a break, have fun, and take the breaks we used to take when we used to watch those TV shows in the ’90s.

By the shows you mentioned, I know we’re about the same age. We grew up with the same TV sitcoms and yet still valued being outside, which feels like a foreign concept today.

Yeah, it’s that feeling of all those movies. Man, “Clueless,” when I see that movie, to this day, I still got crushes on all [those girls]. I always wanted to go to the high school in “Saved by the Bell.” So I just want to give that feeling that I felt, because a lot of the new generation didn’t get to experience those shows and those feelings. So even for the younger generation, I want them to be able to experience that through my special.

What was small–town life in Millen, Ga., like for you as a funny kid growing up?

I was so poor, it wasn’t nothing really funny. The town was so small — one [stop]light, the elementary school, high school, all in one school. You had to joke your way to make you think that you weren’t there. You kind of had to escape through jokes. So I just made people laugh wherever I was. No matter how serious the situation is, I can’t do anything about it. I might as well laugh. I remember the lights went off one time when we were eating cereal. I was like, “Mama, hey, come on. I can’t see — I can’t see the milk, the cereal, the bowl. And you’re telling me I need to do my work. I think you need to go to work.” In a small town, you had to laugh because there was nothing else, there was no opportunity.

“In a small town, you had to laugh because there was nothing else, there was no opportunity,” Kountry Wayne said about growing up in Millen, Ga.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

You gravitated to music early in life, becoming a rapper before you did stand-up. What was it about performing that helped you forget about the troubles that were going on around you?

I always felt like I was onstage already, so by the time I actually got onstage, the lights never did nothing to me, or the fame and all of that. Because I’m just so thankful to be able to do stand-up and have people come and watch me do it. I never had time to really feel the fame and all of that. So I just think everything I went through in that small town helped me. Everything is a small town to me. Hollywood is still a small town to me, because whoever I know, that’s who I know; whoever I don’t know, I just don’t know ’em. Because in that small town, you were so far away from the big cities like Atlanta, New York, L.A. I was three hours from Atlanta [growing up], so I think that really helped me to get where I’m at today to do comedy the way I do it.

Just keep it “kountry.”

Yeah, keep it kountry. Man, oh, that’s the next [title of a new special].

What do you feel like is the most country aspect of you as someone who’s now a popular comedian?

My family — all my family around me. You come to my house. It’s an uncle, daddy, a sister, brother, kids everywhere. I feel like I’m the new version of “Beverly Hillbillies.” I’m in Hollywood, I’m here, but I’m still not here, so I just think that’s the most country thing about me. If you meet my family, you understand. They don’t say shrimp, we say “scrimps” or “o’er dere” [instead of] “over there.” With my accent, imagine it’s 10 times worse with my family. So I think I remind people that everybody in L.A., New York got a cousin somewhere in Mississippi, because a lot of us are from the South anyway. So I just think I remind people of simple, country people.

With the Southern flavor you bring to comedy, I kind of liken it to hip-hop, when it comes to the regional styles of different comics. How does that play into creating a special that brings the South to the world?

It’s crazy that you say that [you] think about hip-hop when I do that. I’m gonna be me so much that people who don’t know me are gonna be interested in me, because it’s different than everybody else. I feel like I’m a really country person with that Southern drawl or the way I talk. I talk like them uncles and all of that. So I just feel like it’s gonna make everybody feel at home. I didn’t try to switch it up. I’m gonna be me because I feel like, deep down, everybody knows [someone like] me somewhere. They’re gonna relate to me in some kind of way, and it feels safe because I’m being me. I’m not out there being fake, this how I talk. I’m a country boy. I’m not from the big city, and this is what I’m giving the world. And those who love it, I appreciate it. Those who don’t love it, I still love you.

“I think I remind people that everybody in L.A., New York got a cousin somewhere in Mississippi, because a lot of us are from the South anyway,” said Kountry Wayne.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Being a dad to 10 kids is something that’s been a part of your storyline in comedy and that people have gravitated to. How does your ability to survive and make it all work play into your comedy?

Child support would really make you very, very funny. It actually plays a lot into it, because if it wasn’t for those kids, I don’t think I’d stand out as much as I am. Because we’ve heard every joke, everybody’s been funny. Come on, man, we’ve seen Jim Carrey, we’ve seen Eddie Murphy, we’ve seen Dave Chappelle. Funny has already been done. So I think what helps me stand out is my story with my kids and my family. It’s funny, but it’s still OK. This is a different perspective than we see with all those kids, the mothers, you know, but he’s not with the mothers, but he’s there with the kids, and you take care of the mothers. It’s so much of a unique situation that I think that’s what makes it stand out.

Who’s your funniest kid?

[My daughter] Honest. Honest is the funniest person in my life. Her name’s Honest, but she lies — she makes up all these stories about what happened at school. [She’ll say,] “I got arrested today.” I’ll be like, “Honest, you did get arrested?” [She’ll say,] “Well, they was about to arrest me, but they didn’t.” She reminds me of me, but she is just a little bit more witty because she don’t got no trauma like I did. I come from poverty. She’s rich. She goes to this Christian school full of white people, and she thinks she’s a white baby now. The white girls have this clip they put on their hair. She bought her clip. Now her hair not floating like theirs. Her hair is definitely stiff. I’m like, “Honest, you don’t need that clip!” She’s in dancing. She don’t go to practice. When she goes to the dance recitals, it’s clear that she can’t dance and we always ask her, “Do you know the dance?” Every time she gets there, she says, “Yeah,” but she gets there and she’s always watching the other kids. She was the only one [who’s] off.

She is so funny. I put her in the skits. She says the wittiest things. She asked me one day — I got a lot of kids — and she said, “Daddy, which one of your kids you love the most?” She said, “Do you love all your kids?” I said, “Yeah, I love all of y’all.” She said, “Well, come here. Let me talk to you right quick.” She took me to a picture I had in my man cave, “She said, ‘Well, why all of us [not in the picture]?’”… She’s my comedian.

Speaking of the skit-producing pipeline/network you‘ve developed over the last several years, how has that been instrumental to your comedy career, and also your career as sort of a producer in developing content?

I think that content helped me more [with] being known as a producer and a filmmaker and an actor. So I think it helped my acting career, the first part of my life, and all the skits helped my comedy because it was just me being funny, but the skits I put out now help people look at me more as a businessman, an entrepreneur and an actor. And it’s crazy, some people now even know me from the skits. And when they come to the [stand-up] show, they’re going to be shocked. A lot of my fans who met me when I started writing the storylines, when they see this [“Nostalgia”] special they’re like, “He never showed us that!” Because that person I am onstage, I don’t be that on social media anymore, so you have to go watch me on stand-up to give that energy that I give. But my Day 1 fans met that guy. These fans I’ve made over the last four or five years were probably equivalent to my Day 1 fans. It’s a large fan base but they don’t even know that I could [do] stand-up like that.

Comedian Kountry Wayne holds up his gold neck chain with his mom’s face on it.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

That’s nostalgic in a way. I’m thinking of a TV dad like Bob Saget, who was so different when you saw him do stand-up. You’re like, “Wow, Danny Tanner is filthy!” That’s great that you can kind of separate the two personas. What do you feel is next for you in comedy?

To bring that to the big screen, for sure. All my talents and gifts that I worked on, in a way, [have] gotten better. I put the work in, I’m ready to show it on the screen. I think it’s happening organically, like the special [on] Amazon, that’s organic. I had one on Netflix now they wanted me to do one at Amazon, and I just want to show the world what I’ve been working on, and the time, energy I put into a broader scale … So I’m just excited, and I feel like a kid again, because I got so many responsibilities and kids I take care of. It took a while for me to get back to this point where I could just be an artist. Because I wanted to be an artist, but then I had a lot of kids, so I had to be a provider. But now I’m in a position where all that is handled, so I feel like a kid again when it comes to the art.

Phil Rosenthal likes to sit at the counter of Max & Helen’s, the diner he recently opened with acclaimed chef Nancy Silverton, and chat with people while they eat.

“I sometimes feel like the mayor of Larchmont,” Rosenthal says over the phone as he greets diners who notice him at the counter. “When people come in and realize I’m involved, they’re always surprised to see me. It’s a bit like being at Disneyland and running into Goofy.”

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

Rosenthal is probably best known for creating the popular TV show “Everybody Loves Raymond” and hosting Netflix’s “Somebody Feed Phil,” which is moving to YouTube in 2027, but he is more than just a famous foodie. He’s now touring the country for his live show, “An Evening With Phil Rosenthal,” and he recently published his second children’s book, “Just Try It! Someplace New!,” which he wrote with his daughter Lily. (They’ll sign books at Barnes & Noble at the Grove on March 14.)

“The book series started when my daughter called and said, ‘Kids love your show. Why don’t you do a kids’ book?’ “ he says, before adding with a laugh: “I told her, ‘Yes, if you’ll do it with me.’ That’s a dad trick to get more time with your daughter.”

Rosenthal believes stories about kids feeling nervous or afraid to try new things connect with both children and adults. “When you write a kids’ book, you realize that it is not just a kids’ book,” he says. “It’s really a book for everyone.”

Although he travels a lot, Rosenthal likes to spend Sundays close to home. He enjoys walking his dog Murray to Larchmont Village and hosting movie night with friends at his place in Hancock Park.

Here’s what his perfect Sunday in L.A. looks like, with lots of good food along the way, of course.

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

7:45 a.m.: Coffee with Murray and neighborhood friends

Every Sunday morning, I walk my dog Murray to Larchmont Village and stop at Go Get Em Tiger. It’s our daily ritual. Over time, we’ve built a great community there, and I always invite others to join us. We sit outside, talk and have become close friends. I usually post a photo of Murray on Instagram each day. He’s a rescue mutt, and I like to joke he’s part Pyrenees, part psychopath.

9 a.m.: Shop for produce at the Larchmont Village Farmers’ Market

After about an hour, I head across the street to the Larchmont Village Farmers’ Market, which is held on Wednesdays and Sundays. I usually pick up some fruit for the house. It’s a great community spot.

9:30 a.m.: Breakfast at Max and Helen’s

Next I walk down the street to Max and Helen’s, the diner my family opened. I’m about to order the L.E.O., which is Gingrass Smoked salmon lox, three eggs and onions. So if I sound like my mouth is full, you’ll know why.

One of my favorite things on the menu is the sourdough waffle Nancy [Silverton] created, topped with butter mixed with maple syrup. I also love the hot chocolate, and the tuna melt is a special, more romanticized version of the classic. If you eat there every day, it’s smart to pick something healthy, like I’m having today — high protein and no carbs.

11 am: Browse titles at a neighborhood bookstore

I love visiting Chevalier’s Books, the oldest independent bookstore in Los Angeles. I’ve been going there since I moved to Los Angeles from New York in 1989. It’s just two doors down from the diner and feels like our community bookstore.

Noon: Hit the gym

Afterwards, I walk home and fit in a workout. I have to exercise every day because I eat a lot. If I didn’t walk everywhere, I’d probably weigh 300 pounds. My gym is simple — just some weights and a bench — but it works for me. Since I travel often, I stick to a routine I can do anywhere.

1 p.m.: Enjoy a surprising meal at a Michelin-noted restaurant

If I weren’t hosting movie night, I’d love to stop by République. It’s an amazing place, maybe the best restaurant in L.A. Every menu is great. I usually eat just about anything there, and sometimes I ask them to surprise me. It’s an all-day restaurant and I’ve gone for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Their egg dishes are excellent, the burger is top-notch and the roasted chicken, which is cooked over an open fire in the kitchen, is superb. I often let the chef decide what to bring me, especially when I’m with a group. It’s fun to be surprised and try shareable dishes.

I also really enjoy Connie and Ted’s in West Hollywood, Michael Cimarusti’s casual spot. The seafood is just as good as it is at Providence, his fine dining place. Their fresh Maine lobster roll is excellent, and they have the best oysters in L.A. It’s pretty awesome. Check before you head over there, though, as I’ve heard it’s for lease.

3 p.m.: Go for a hike

I used to hike more before I started traveling so much, but I still enjoy it. After all, this is L.A. While other places deal with bad weather, we get to be outside. I love hiking in Runyon Canyon and Griffith Park. It’s great to make the most of the outdoors here.

6 p.m.: Movie night and Pizzeria Mozza at home

On Sundays, we host movie nights at home. We have a dedicated screening room, a wood-burning pizza oven in the kitchen and a chef from Pizzeria Mozza, who comes over to make pizza. The best part is that someone connected to the film often joins us. Sometimes we watch new movies, other times old favorites. Aaron Sorkin came for “The Social Network,” and when we screened “Tootsie,” Elaine May, Dustin Hoffman and Bill Murray joined us. We usually have about 25 to 30 people.

I really love my neighborhood and the people in it. One of the best things about traveling so much is that it makes you appreciate home even more.

You can’t help rooting for Colleen Hoover heroines, bless their bruised hearts. The bestselling novelist specializes in women who have been kicked around by life. She’s the new name brand of tragic romance, picking up where Nicholas Sparks’ terminal diseases left off.

“Reminders of Him,” directed by Vanessa Caswill, is the third film based on a Hoover book in three years and the first that the author herself has adapted alongside co-screenwriter Lauren Levine. Like the others, its lead suffers heartily before falling in love with a hunk. The previous two, “It Ends With Us” and “Regretting You,” were about, respectively, domestic abuse and adultery. “Reminders” adds more tarnish to the poor dear: She’s an ex-convict who served six years for killing her boyfriend in a DUI.

Finally freed from prison, Kenna (Maika Monroe) has returned to Laramie, Wyo., the hometown of her dead lover, Scotty (Rudy Pankow). From what we see of Scotty in flashbacks, he was a buoyant blond goofball — exactly the kind of guy that the apparently friendless and family-less Kenna would have clung to like a life preserver. But she’s not here to lay flowers at his grave. In a salty touch, the first thing Kenna does is remove his roadside cross, claiming he hated memorial shrines.

But Kenna is desperate to meet their 5-year-old daughter, Diem (Zoe Kosovic), who was born months into her incarceration. The girl’s name comes from carpe diem, as in Kenna’s vow to seize the child she never got to hold, but the script has the restraint not to make a big standing-on-a-desk speech about that. Nevertheless, the kid’s grandparents, Grace and Patrick (Lauren Graham and Bradley Whitford), who never liked Kenna to begin with, consider a restraining order in fear that Kenna might actually kidnap Diem.

The stakes are plain: Can Kenna prove herself worthy to be Diem’s mother? Her only tentative ally is Scotty’s childhood friend, Ledger (Tyriq Withers), who thinks she’s hot and intriguing until he realizes who she is. Then he wants Kenna gone too.

Caswill sets the mood with a shot of a snow-capped mountain range, fitting for a movie that proceeds at a glacial pace. (The book moves faster, with Kenna and Ledger hooking up immediately and then discovering their unfortunate connection.)

The first stretch of the movie is strong, with Kenna, who is too broke for a car or even a phone, hoofing it around town in search of any job willing to hire a broke girl with a criminal record. A grocery store manager sends her away coldly after nattering on in corporate-speak about the importance of treating people with respect — an exchange that feels so real it gives you the shivers — but his beleaguered assistant, Amy (country singer Lainey Wilson in her promising, but brief, film debut), steps in and treats Kenna like a person. “What’s your trauma?” Amy asks her and somehow Wilson delivers that line with a lilt that keeps it from sounding corny.

These female strangers share a moment of such sincere human connection that I would have happily watched a dozen more scenes of the two women leaning on each other while they endure their hard-luck lives. Alas, these nice detours don’t last long; the movie has a preordained higher parental purpose that’s bigger than anything else onscreen, from the Wyoming skies to the bond between Kenna and Ledger that’s the main reason an audience has bothered to come.

Where this is all going is as unavoidable as the fact that Scotty died on what seems to be only road in and out of town. As the title declares, there are traces of him everywhere, including Diem’s giggle.

To get anywhere with the film, you have to settle into the idea that Kenna and Ledger must slowly build trust in each other while spending most of the baggy running time talking about a little girl who is rarely around. (When Kosovic is, she’s charming.) Cinematographer Tim Ives snatches his rare opportunities to shoot the beautiful scenery, but most of the pair’s encounters take place in or near Ledger’s orange pickup truck, a totem from the book. Visually, these car chats get stagnant. At least Monroe and Withers generate decent chemistry, eyes shiny and gleaming as they try their hardest to put gas in this love story’s tank.

Ledger calls Kenna “the saddest girl in the world.” True, but the glumness of said world is central to Hoover’s zeitgeisty appeal — a point she underlines a few beats later, Kenna insisting that the radio only ever plays depressing songs. To prove her wrong, Ledger flips it on anyway and to his dismay, it plays one bummer after another, station after station, until finally, the two of them share a much-needed laugh. (Meanwhile, Tom Howe’s acoustic country score is adamantly winsome, even intercut with Coldplay covers.)

Hoover is a strong world-builder. When she writes about small towns with shuttered bookstores or dive bars with fetid pots of coffee, you feel that she truly knows these places and has made a principled choice to set her hard-earned happy endings there. Caswill gets it, keying into credible, lived-in details, like Kenna’s tiny glance at the price tag on a stuffed animal that she’s considering for Diem.

Monroe’s Kenna couldn’t be farther from the cliché romantic diva, usually a high-heeled glamazon who runs a cupcake boutique. Even her hair really does look like she fixed it in the squalid bathroom of the only apartment she can afford. The complex is called Paradise, an on-the-nose irony. The owner (Jennifer Robertson) cuts Kenna a deal if she promises to take a free kitten. (I never saw Kenna get a litter box, but the kitten’s pretty cute.)

Ledger is the fantasy: a former NFL player whose hobbies include babysitting Diem, wearing tight shirts and building himself a hilltop dream cabin that will someday belong in Architectural Digest. (He owns that dive bar but the cast stays Mormon-sober.) Withers, a former wide receiver at Florida State University, also played a football jock in the gorgeously made but narratively screwy horror film “Him,” and it’s a treat to see an actor who moves like a genuine athlete and has that “Yes, coach” politeness that comes from being humbled in a locker room. You don’t totally buy his character exists in reality, but Withers believes in it enough to get the job done.

Another Paradise tenant, Lady Diana (Monika Myers), a headstrong teenager with Down syndrome, is the closest thing the film has to comic relief. Bursting into Kenna’s quarters seemingly at will, she raids her near-empty fridge while bluntly shouldering much of the exposition. “Why are you so poor?” Lady Diana asks, following that up by wondering, “Why are you so sad?”

“Reminders of Him” could use a little more swooning, a little less of the endless middle stretch of driving and talking, interrupted by wet sprints through thunderstorms. The rain pours down so often that you can’t help but snort when the film cuts to Whitford’s granddad angrily watering his lawn.

Eventually, even the film itself seems over all of the dilly-dallying. It takes a narrative shortcut to wrap things up, leaving behind not much other than a few worthwhile scenes: Kenna and Scotty’s meet-cute at a dollar store, her and Ledger pushing through their morning-after guilt, and a powerful moment shortly after Diem’s birth when a fellow inmate gives her a friendly but stern pep talk that sums up everything this film takes nearly two hours to say.

When a freshman is wondering whether to play sports or focus on academics because of the immense time commitment, it’s usually the parents who have to give a nudge toward one or the other. Except this time, the decision was left to 15-year-old Javier Zarate, and he chose to give up club soccer to try for straight A’s last year at Garfield High.

Last spring, Garfield soccer coach Pablo Serrano, knowing he had a highly regarded goalie on his campus, began a lobbying campaign with emails and text messages inviting him to try out for the Bulldogs’ soccer team.

“He told me if I wanted to give it a shot, I could try out,” Zarate said. “They were very welcoming and nice.”

The rest is going to be part of Garfield sports lore, because Zarate saved three penalty kicks when Garfield won the City Section Division II championship game against Canoga Park and delivered more saves last week in helping the Bulldogs beat Bakersfield Taft 1-0 in the Southern California Division V regional final.

Incredibly, Garfield is headed to Sacramento this week to play in the first CIF state soccer championships, against Branford on Saturday at 10 a.m. at Natomas High.

“I’m super pumped up,” Zarate said.

Who knows how many alumni from Garfield are living in Sacramento or nearby, but they have been known to travel around the country to support their Bulldogs, especially if rival Roosevelt is the opponent. Something tells me there’s going to be a caravan from Boyle Heights headed to Sacramento to provide support.

“I know some will make the drive,” Serrano said.

It’s been a strange season in City Section soccer, with six schools removed from the playoffs for using ineligible players, most of whom played for club teams while also playing tor their high school team, in violation of CIF bylaw 600.

Serrano said there’s always a reminder making sure his players know the rule.

“There’s a lot of soccer going on in this community,” he said. “It’s always a challenge because kids play outside with club. It’s something I do from the beginning of tryouts. We talk to the kids that if they play in a club outside of school, they are not allowed to play high school or vice versa. There’s no excuse,”

In the case of the 5-foot-6 Zarate, he didn’t play any soccer last year while focusing on academics and being part of the school’s ROTC program. His weighted grade-point average is at 4.4. He wants to study to become a firefighter.

“My family motivated me to be academically focused and I found a balance to do both,” he said of his return to soccer.

Goalies are usually much taller than Zarate, but he received lots of lessons on how to overcome the size disadvantage.

“I get that a lot that I’m very short for a goalie,” he said. “As a kid I, got training by a good trainer. He told me, ‘You’re pretty short for a goalie. As long as you can master being able to dive and jump high, you should be as good as them.’”

Garfield finished fourth in the Eastern League behind City Section soccer powers South East and Marquez, both of whom were eliminated after making the semifinals because of ineligible players.

Given the opportunity to get hot in the playoffs, the Bulldogs have done just that. Junior Noe Marmolejo has been the leading goal scorer.

The team is scheduled to take a bus to Sacramento on Friday, stay at a hotel Friday night, rise early for its game on Saturday, then immediately return home. Considering how loyal the Boyle Heights community is, look for lots of fans supporting the team in Sacramento and when that bus returns home.

“It’s an honor,” Serrano said of being the first City team to play for a state soccer title.

Joshua Jackson says he knows he was “really just a footnote” in James Van Der Beek’s life, despite the “amazing” time they spent together as stars of the series “Dawson’s Creek.”

The star of “The Affair” is reflecting publicly for the first time about his former castmate, who died Feb. 11 at age 48 after a battle with colorectal cancer.

The time they shared on set was “formational” for them, Jackson said on “Today.” When the “Dawson’s Creek” pilot aired in January 1998, he was 19 and Van Der Beek was almost 21, playing characters who were 15.

“I know both of us look back on that time with great fondness, but I will also say that I know that I’m really just a footnote in what he actually accomplished in his life.”

Jackson spoke with great respect for his friend, who he said “became what we used to just call a good man, a man of the kind of belief, the kind of faith that allowed him to face the impossible with grace, an unbelievable partner and husband, just a real man who showed up for his family and a beautiful, kind, curious, interested, dedicated father.”

On the one hand, the 47-year-old said, “that’s beautiful.” On the other, “The tragedy of that loss for his family is enormous.”

Since Jackson and Van Der Beek played Pacey Witter and Dawson Leery three decades ago, both men had kids of their own — a 5-year-old daughter for Jackson, born during the pandemic with ex-wife Jodie Turner-Smith, and six kids for Van Der Beek with second wife Kimberly Brook. The latter couple’s children — two boys and four girls, ranging in age from 4 to 15 — were what Van Der Beek said changed everything for him.

“Your life becomes shared, and your joys become shared joys in a really beautiful way that expands your level of circuitry out to other people instead of just keeping it all for your own gratification,” the actor told “Good Morning America” in May 2023. “And the lessons, they keep on coming. It’s the craziest, craziest thing I’ve ever done, and it’s the thing that’s made me happiest.”

Knowing his colleague’s love for his family, Jackson said on “Today” that “for me as a father now, I think the enormity of that tragedy hits me in a very different way than just as a colleague, so I think the processing [of Van Der Beek’s death] is ongoing.”

The “Little Fires Everywhere” actor was on the morning show Tuesday to bring attention to colorectal cancer screenings.

Van Der Beek’s diagnosis, which went public in November 2024, was among the factors prompting Jackson to get involved with drugmaker AstraZeneca’s “Get Body Checked Against Cancer” campaign, which takes a lighter approach to a serious subject — cancer screening — through a partnership with Jackson, the National Hockey League and the Philadelphia Flyers’ furry orange mascot, Gritty.

“It is … true, the earlier you find something,” said “The Mighty Ducks” actor, “the better your possible outcomes are.”

The warm smiles coming from Chadrack Mpoyi are plentiful these days. After forcefully dominating the paint and protecting the rim in Crean Lutheran wins, the imposing big man beams as teammates, classmates and supporters congratulate him. He offers a hug in return.

Mpoyi says he’s having fun each game in his one season of high school basketball in the U.S., the 6-foot-11 African enjoying a meteoric rise to become one of the top West Coast centers in this year’s class. A virtual unknown coming from Congo two summers ago to attend school in Orange County, Mpoyi saw his recruitment skyrocket and lead to him signing with Minnesota. He scored 14 points during Crean Lutheran’s 59-52 win over JSerra in the Southern Section Division 1A championship game Saturday. The Saints (26-7) qualified for for the CIF Southern California Regional that begins Tuesday, extending Mpoyi’s senior season.

In a way, it all happened so quickly, by leaps and bounds. Within a week of arriving in June 2024 on a student visa, Mpoyi was donning the Saints’ jersey and playing in a tournament in Corona in preparation for the NCAA evaluation period when college coaches can watch recruits play in person. By that August, he claimed an offer from Washington. The following summer, he had about two dozen offers.

Still, Mpoyi’s swift emergence came amid a rather inauspicious beginning to his journey. He left his father, mother and siblings to pursue a basketball opportunity on another continent. He tried seeking international student transfer eligibility with the highly regarded Crean Lutheran program, but the CIF Southern Section ruled he couldn’t play on the varsity team in the 2024-25 season. He’d be sitting out.

Chadrack Mpoyi saw the Crean Lutheran community support him before he was ever able to play in an official game for the Saints.

(Diamond Leung / For The Times)

And soon after that …

“My mom passed away,” Mpoyi said quietly, declining to discuss it much further.

The Crean Lutheran community responded by wrapping its arms around the teenager with the 7-foot-5 wingspan. A second family — a prominent Orange County one — stepped forward to open its doors to Mpoyi and form a stateside support system.

“And he blended in beautifully,” said Stacy Jones, the mother of his host family.

Crean Lutheran is named after John Crean, the recreational vehicle pioneer and philanthropist with a rags-to-riches story. As a child, Crean and his family left North Dakota at the start of the Great Depression and settled in Southern California as they barely scraped by, and his Irish immigrant father was in poor health. As an Orange County businessman, Crean ultimately became the founder and chief executive of Fleetwood Enterprises, a Fortune 500 company with annual revenue surpassing $3 billion. His foundation donated $10 million after his 2007 death to help establish Irvine’s first Christian high school.

The school has made it a well-worn path for international students to come for a faith-centered education in one of the newer planned residential communities in the city. And boys’ basketball coach Austin Loeb, through his connection to the Luol Deng Foundation, has facilitated the addition of several players from the former NBA All-Star’s native South Sudan. They’ve stayed with host families and gone on to play at the college level. The Saints currently include two Sudanese players in senior forwards Jacob Majok, who has signed with UC Riverside, and Will Malual.

“It’s a ministry as well [as] an opportunity to get kids that come from nothing and give them this,” Loeb said in Crean Lutheran’s gym after a Saints win.

Mpoyi is the first player from Congo to play for Crean Lutheran. He arrived with the ability to speak three languages — French, Swahili and Lingala.

Crean Lutheran guard Caden Jones recalled how the team communicated with the new kid as Mpoyi joined a trip to Santa Barbara for a summer tournament the week after he arrived.

“Through Google Translate,” said Jones, a dual-sport standout who also stars at quarterback for Crean Lutheran. “Every food place we went to, he wanted a cheeseburger or pizza. By the end of it, we just knew what he wanted so we didn’t have to ask him.”

Jones’ mom, Stacy, upon first spotting Mpoyi wearing the Crean Lutheran jersey, wondered who was the player sitting by himself.

“Nobody was talking to him,” Stacy recalled. “Nobody offered him water or anything. We went to him and said, ‘Do you need water or a protein bar?’ He didn’t speak English. He didn’t know what we were talking about. So we just went and got it, and we asked the coach, ‘What’s going on with this kid?’”

Mpoyi was limited not only by the language. He’d been playing basketball only a few years, after he started watching videos of Hakeem Olajuwon, an NBA star from Nigeria, so he also had more to learn on the court.

“He traveled every other possession,” said Loeb, who served as Crean Lutheran’s top assistant coach last season. “I’m not kidding.”

Eventually, Stacy learned about Mpoyi’s living situation off campus and found it to be unsatisfactory for him.

“The coach says, ‘Do you mind? Can you just take him for a couple weeks until I can find a host family?’” Stacy recalled. “And so we did, and then … we couldn’t give him away.”

Chadrack Mpoyi greets Stacy Jones, right, the mother of his host family, after leading Crean Lutheran to a win at Cypress.

(Diamond Leung / For The Times)

She laughed and smiled.

Said Caden: “Just being with him every day, he’s like a brother to me now. I love him to death.”

Stacy never got a chance to speak with Mpoyi’s mother, but she could tell they were very close. She understood that his mom’s life revolved around church and raising nine kids, Mpoyi being the baby of the family.

Less than three months after he left his hometown of Likasi, his mother died.

“It’s pretty sad and incredible,” Loeb said. “His mom had cancer and when this opportunity came about for him to come over to the U.S., she didn’t tell him because she thought he would stay. Once he was here, she told him she was sick, but he didn’t know how quick it would be. Talk about putting your kids above yourself.”

Mpoyi was neither able to travel back home nor play in high school basketball games as an outlet. As Mpoyi mourned, the team had to encourage him to step outside of the house to clear his mind, said Caden, who extended empathy beyond the hospitality inside of it. Mpoyi’s faith deepened.

“I was driving him to school — he wanted to go to school, and put his hand on my arm, and he says, ‘… I really want to get baptized in honor of my mom,’” Stacy Jones said, her voice shaking. “And I just lost it.”

A month after losing his mother, Mpoyi was baptized at chapel held in the school gym. Wearing a Crean Lutheran hoodie, he bowed his head in front of the whole school, including teammates and coaches, and received a standing ovation.

Stacy, who had arranged a French-speaking pastor, also surprised Mpoyi with a letterman jacket, with his mom’s favorite picture and Bible verse custom-printed on the back.

“It was just cool to see him continuing his faith and how happy inside he was to take the journey,” Caden said.

Caden’s father, Steve, is the global chairman and chief executive of Allied Universal, the private security provider for many Fortune 500 companies, and he oversees the third-largest private employer in North America. The only companies with more employees are Walmart and Amazon.

Crean Lutheran teammates Chadrack Mpoyi and Caden Jones, waiting to check into a game, say they are like brothers after living together.

(Diamond Leung / For The Times)

Stacy, his wife, is a philanthropist who has joined him in raising $13 million in the last seven years for victims of human trafficking by supporting Vera’s Sanctuary, an Orange County residential drug rehabilitation center for young women.

Together they opened the doors of their home to Mpoyi and later signed on for guardianship. Mpoyi didn’t know the family well upon arriving to the gated community of Coto de Caza, but adapted — and grew in more ways than one.

Stacy said she enlisted an English instructor who also spoke French and that Mpoyi picked up the language in two weeks. “He’s a sponge,” she said. “He just absorbs everything. He’s wicked smart.”

Mpoyi said it was hard, but in four or five months, Loeb described a night-and-day difference in his English-speaking ability and marveled at the progress, noting that he carries a grade-point average above 3.0. Stanford would join the schools offering him a scholarship.

The Joneses were especially busy during the fall of 2024 raising two sons as elite athletes as well. Caden was a four-star quarterback when he suffered a season-ending knee injury that September before bouncing back as a junior by throwing for 30 touchdowns and more than 3,000 yards to draw heavy recruiting interest. Carter Jones flipped his commitment from California to Arizona that October after developing into a three-star linebacker at Crean Lutheran, and he formed a tight bond with Mpoyi before leaving for college.

With the new dynamics, what was it like in that household?

“We are a very physical family,” Stacy said. “Lots of hugs.”

Said Caden: “A lot of food. We eat a lot.”

And with the team, Loeb said what made Mpoyi special was how he connected, explaining, “He loves people so much and he cares about them. He’s a natural leader.”

Sidelined last season, Mpoyi dedicated himself to lifting weights and adding muscle. That part he could control, according to Loeb, who credited Mpoyi for sticking with the plan. With Crean Lutheran’s strength program — and having access to some weights at the Jones home — he went from 195 pounds to about 245. The transformation of his body enabled him to transform his game as he progressively improved his combination of physicality and skill.

“I can do several things,” said a smiling Mpoyi, who watches video of another 6-11 talent, NBA great Kevin Garnett, before games. “I can dunk on people, and then I can face up.”

Said Loeb: “When he came over, he was more of like a stretchy forward. I wanted to turn him into a more traditional big right now because that would help him to be successful. But he still has the mobility to get out and guard and still be physical. He’s learning the game, and he has really good touch.”

And perseverance, for which Loeb nominated Mpoyi for the Naismith High School Basketball Courage Award. Loeb believes the trait comes from Mpoyi’s strong faith.

Steve Jones, who wrote a book about achieving more in business and life titled, “No Off Season: The Constant Pursuit of More,” sees the same.

“All people see is this giant 7-foot kid,” Steve said. “What people don’t see is how hard of a worker he is.”

Midnight neared as Steve, dressed in Crean Lutheran gear, visited with Arizona football staffers at the Saints’ basketball game at the Nike Extravaganza in Santa Ana. They watched Caden hoop with Crean Lutheran fighting for a spot in the Open Division playoff field, as there’s interest in having him join his older brother on the Wildcats’ football team. Caden, a 6-foot-3 point guard, also has received basketball offers from Washington and UC Santa Barbara.

Aside from running a global company that does about $23 billion in annual revenue out of its Irvine headquarters, Steve, a former college football player at Cal Poly whose father played for Bear Bryant, also oversaw the recruitment process for Mpoyi last summer and looked out for his best interests.

Forced to sit out last season, Mpoyi developed into a three-star prospect while playing for All In Elite on the Under Armour circuit and in summer high school events. Mpoyi and Crean Lutheran traveled to Mesa, Ariz., last June and captured a bracket title at Section 7, an event crawling with college coaches. Minnesota offered the following week, and Loeb counted 23 offers over the summer.

“I wanted to make sure no one took advantage of him,” Steve said. “I wanted to make sure he found the right fit. I wanted to make sure that coaches really wanted him for the right reason, that it was the right offense for him.”

Crean Lutheran coach Austin Loeb has watched Chadrack Mpoyi fight to overcome obstacles after he arrived from Congo.

(Diamond Leung / For The Times)

That ended up being in the bruising Big Ten with Minnesota. After the 19-year-old signed with just five years of playing experience, Coach Niko Medved said in a statement in November: “Chadrack has an incredible upside, has a great motor and is athletic. One of the first things we noticed was how well he moves for his size and his ability to move his feet and protect the rim.”

It’s Stacy who has taken on the difficult task of trying to track down Congolese documentation as she works with Minnesota’s compliance department to help Mpoyi meet NCAA eligibility requirements.

Mpoyi not only acknowledges that the Joneses have supported him but also has shown protective instincts with the family. When they’re walking around, he’ll wait and make sure she’s nearby, Stacy said.

“He’s very humble and I know he comes from small beginnings but he never lets you know it,” she said. “We live in a nice house, and they ask him all the time, what’s it like to live with the Joneses? And he’s like, what are you talking about? He doesn’t engage with those kinds of conversations. How much money do they have? Like, why are you asking? Does it matter?

“He’s a gift.”

“He’ll be in our lives forever,” said Steve, who envisions holidays in which Mpoyi is able to come back from college to their home. “It’s like he’s turned into our son. I don’t know if we originally thought that was going to happen. When you say, ‘Can someone live at your house for a little bit,’ you say ‘Yes.’

“It’s like we have a third son forever.”