Hot mics have embarrassed many a media professional.
Cincinnati Reds longtime broadcaster Thom Brennaman was suspended indefinitely in 2020 after his microphone accidentally picked up him using a three-letter anti-gay slur.
Charles Barkley dropped an uncensored F-bomb during an Inside the NBA on TNT broadcast in 2025 while venting about NBA award voters.
And just two months ago, San Francisco Giants executive Buster Posey trolled radio station KNBR on-air after a behind-the-scenes employee was caught on a hot mic talking trash about him.
Add reporters covering Sacramento Kings media day Monday to the list. At least three were heard in an unvarnished conversation about Kings players Ben Simmons and Zach LaVine that took a personal turn.
A handful of local outlets livestreamed media day interviews. But the mics also picked up reporters chatting, and embarrassing comments went beyond their frequent use of the hyper-localized and outdated NorCal modifier “hella.”
Comments begin about Simmons, a guard on a one-year, non-guaranteed contract after missing last season with injuries. A female says “That’s what comes with being Ben Simmons. He is cringe, cringe,” and another jumps in to say he is “lucky he’s so fine.”
The first media member agrees, saying “He’s a good-looking dude. His skin is, like, so smooth, I was like, damn, no tattoos?”
A male voice joins the conversation, asking, “I thought Jordan Poole was your type.”
A female voice replies, “Allegedly, I like light-skinned, I guess.”
The male voice continues: “What about Zach LaVine, then?”
“Hella fine,” the female voice replies.
“I think his personality annoys the [expletive] out of me, so that’s what makes him less fine,” the first person says. “Zach’s cute but his personality [expletive] annoys me. He just seems like hella like a prick. But he is beautiful.”
“He’s a [expletive] UCLA guy,” replies the third person. “Just all of them are.”
Another voice jumps in, offering that LaVine is “hella fine, too.”
Someone asks how the others would rank Kings players by hotness. One voice votes for Simmons because of “his skincare routine.”
Apparently referring to the team’s woeful 22-60 record last season, the male voice responds by cracking, “Well, Ben wasn’t a King for the last year and a half either,” to which a female voice concedes, “That’s true.”
The reporters involved have not been publicly identified, and none of the players have responded. LaVine’s wife, Hunter, did offer a low-key comment to the Kings Muse recording, writing on X, “a great start to the season!”
The episode called to mind the hot mic that marred the Toronto Raptors’ postseason news conference last April. Two unidentified media members were heard making disparaging comments about players Scottie Barnes and Jonathan Mogbo.
“It’s not just his enunciation, which, like, was super bad, especially last year,” one person said about Barnes. “But even the attitude. Just the attitude — like he’s having fun up there. First year or even before, he just kept getting worse and worse every year.”
Rookie forward Mogbo was the next target. “When I first interviewed Mogbo when he was drafted, I was shocked ’cause he was so dumb,” the person said.
Raptors fans were appalled by the comments, but Barnes responded with humor on social media. It remains to be seen how Simmons and LaVine react.
There’s an alternate universe where Taylor Tomlinson is a young adult fantasy author holed up in a cabin miles from civilization.
“ I don’t know if you have some sort of backup career or backup life that you go to in your head when you’re overwhelmed or fed up with your career or whatever process you’re in,” she asks in the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel Denver ahead of a two-show night. “That was in the back of my head, [I was] like, ‘Well, I could just move to the woods and write books.’”
In this world, she’s a 32-year-old comedian with four Netflix stand-up specials and a two-season stint as the host of late-night game show “After Midnight.”
Her manager told her that people would probably be more interested in her memoir before a series centering on magic and dragons, so she started writing her own story two years ago.
A self-diagnosed workaholic, Tomlinson spent 10 years constantly moving. From a combination of mold exposure and severe burnout from filming “After Midnight” on weekdays and performing in different cities on weekends, she fell ill for months and was forced to take a break.
In that time, she wrote “Actually, Nevermind.” Coming out Tuesday, the autobiographical essay collection delves into the aspects of life that she changed her mind about since her mother died when she was 8 years old.
“Actually, Nevermind” opens with an eclectic mix of three quotes from “Anne of Green Gables” by Lucy Maud Montgomery, celebrated writer Joan Didion, and the 2001 Anne Hathaway-led comedy film “The Princess Diaries.” Tomlinson wanted a combination of funny and serious excerpts capturing grief, but also a quote about evolving as a person.
In the classic coming of age novel “Anne of Green Gables,” a young Anne Shirley states, “I’m not a bit changed — not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real me — back here — is just the same.”
That’s the essence of Tomlinson’s realizations in her book — she’s growing into herself but that girl who started performing stand-up shows on the church circuit at 16 is still in there.
Tomlinson has a bit from her first Netflix special “Quarter-Life Crisis” about your 20s being a period to “fish trash out of the lake before it freezes over.” She asks how I’m enjoying my 20s, to which I bluntly reply, “It’s a nightmare.”
“ My 20s were a nightmare, too, and I was waiting to be 30, and I was like, ‘When I turn 30, I’m going to be solidified and great.’ And then I turned 30, and it was like the last two years I have probably changed just as much, if not more, than I did in my 20s,” she says. “It’s been much rockier than I anticipated.”
In speaking with her friends, she realized they also felt a disconnect between the lives they envisioned for themselves and their realities. Tomlinson channeled that uncertainty into a jumping-off point for her book.
She reflected on when she began questioning the trajectory of her life and traced it back to her mother’s death.
“ I didn’t know if I was even going to write about my mom at all when I first got the book [deal] because I was like, ‘Well, I talked about it in ‘Look At You,’ and I’ve talked about it in interviews,’ but that’s the thing about losing a parent or any big traumatic grief event is you’re always getting hit by waves of it, and then you’re always untangling it,” she says.
In creating “Actually, Nevermind,” Tomlinson pored through her mother’s diary, deciding to include a few excerpts in the finished book. For most of Tomlinson’s life, she regarded her mother as a flawless, devout Christian whom she desperately yearned to impress.
Drawing on her mother’s diary, estrangement from her father and complex sibling bonds, Tomlinson confronts impossible standards, relinquishes parentified guilt and reframes what family means after loss.
(Sela Shiloni)
Her mother married young, so she tried to hit that milestone, too.
“I didn’t manage it and self-sabotaged a lot,” she says. “Now, I’m grateful that I didn’t get married young, but at the time it was all I wanted because I wanted to fit in and I wanted to be someone she would’ve liked, someone she had things in common with.”
Through reading her mother’s diary entries, Tomlinson began to heal from the impossible standards she set for herself to follow in her mother’s footsteps.
“ She was sort of this perfect, infallible character in my brain for so much of my childhood, so it was helpful to read about her being like, ‘I’m nervous about getting married. We got pregnant on accident,’” Tomlinson says. “There’s stuff I didn’t include about arguments she had with my dad in college. It was just very human, and it was very encouraging to go, ‘Oh, it wasn’t like this perfect frictionless decision for her.’ It’s not like she just nailed it and did everything perfectly.”
One of Tomlinson’s largest shifts in perspective was no longer feeling parental responsibility toward her three younger siblings.
“ I went from their sister to a weird half parent figure when I was still a kid,” she says. “And I made all these missteps because I was also a kid. And then young adulthood was confusing because I had been waiting for everyone to get old enough to be friends with me.”
Now, Tomlinson’s siblings all take care of each other in their own ways. She refers to them as her “soul mates” and feels guilty wishing for a romantic partner when she already has three lifelong best friends.
While Tomlinson remains close with some of her mother’s relatives, she has been estranged from her father for five years. She writes about the sadness of not speaking to someone you feel so alike, but she doesn’t go into extreme detail about cutting ties.
“ There’s some things you just want to keep for yourself, you know?” she says. “You don’t want every painful private detail about who you are and what’s happened to you available to Google because it just makes you feel like you’re a raw nerve walking around, and you can’t get it back once you’ve shared it.”
“And you want something to say on a fifth date,” she jokes.
After processing the heartache of losing another parent in a different way, Tomlinson allowed herself to miss the good memories with her father and assuage any longing for revenge.
In her essay “I’m Gay Now,” Tomlinson explores her bisexuality and the transition from chasing male validation to feeling comfortable in herself. She came out at around 28 years old. Part of what took her until then was feeling the need to prove that she deserved to identify as queer.
In essays on sexuality, faith and ambition, she trades the pursuit of perfection for hard-won self-acceptance, exposing a more vulnerable offstage self still learning to do her best.
(Sela Shiloni)
“ I think that’s just a theme throughout my entire life,” she says. “I felt like I needed to earn the label of comedian. I felt like I needed to earn the label of queer. I needed to earn love.”
Her brother helped her understand that she didn’t have to achieve the title — she’s always been gay.
With all of her adulthood realizations, Tomlinson also reflects on what she wishes she could tell her younger self. Talking to a 16-year-old Taylor, she writes, “The most valuable thing about us cannot be all the things we haven’t done.”
“ So much of my childhood was like, ‘Don’t drink, don’t do drugs, don’t have sex. Don’t step out of line,’” she says. “I wanted to experience things more than I wanted to be this pure version of myself that was performing for the Lord.”
“Actually, Nevermind” is a reflection of Tomlinson when she puts down the microphone, and she is nervous for readers to see that side of her.
“ I feel pretty good about me on stage. Me in the room, I feel really insecure about,” she says. “I’ve gotten to a place where I feel pretty confident about taking up like 45 minutes to an hour and a half of your time. Eight hours, I think, is what the audiobook is. I’m like, ‘Eight hours is a lot more than that.’ So it’s been a real test of confidence.”
After years of chasing perfection, Tomlinson says she finds comfort in knowing that she may never be the world’s greatest anything.
“ In my 20s, I think I was always trying to be the best,” she says. “And now I’m like, ‘I’m going to do my best.’”
Hot mic catches Kings media rating players’ looks, criticizing Zach LaVine
Hot mics have embarrassed many a media professional.
Cincinnati Reds longtime broadcaster Thom Brennaman was suspended indefinitely in 2020 after his microphone accidentally picked up him using a three-letter anti-gay slur.
Charles Barkley dropped an uncensored F-bomb during an Inside the NBA on TNT broadcast in 2025 while venting about NBA award voters.
And just two months ago, San Francisco Giants executive Buster Posey trolled radio station KNBR on-air after a behind-the-scenes employee was caught on a hot mic talking trash about him.
Add reporters covering Sacramento Kings media day Monday to the list. At least three were heard in an unvarnished conversation about Kings players Ben Simmons and Zach LaVine that took a personal turn.
A handful of local outlets livestreamed media day interviews. But the mics also picked up reporters chatting, and embarrassing comments went beyond their frequent use of the hyper-localized and outdated NorCal modifier “hella.”
Comments begin about Simmons, a guard on a one-year, non-guaranteed contract after missing last season with injuries. A female says “That’s what comes with being Ben Simmons. He is cringe, cringe,” and another jumps in to say he is “lucky he’s so fine.”
The first media member agrees, saying “He’s a good-looking dude. His skin is, like, so smooth, I was like, damn, no tattoos?”
A male voice joins the conversation, asking, “I thought Jordan Poole was your type.”
A female voice replies, “Allegedly, I like light-skinned, I guess.”
The male voice continues: “What about Zach LaVine, then?”
“Hella fine,” the female voice replies.
“I think his personality annoys the [expletive] out of me, so that’s what makes him less fine,” the first person says. “Zach’s cute but his personality [expletive] annoys me. He just seems like hella like a prick. But he is beautiful.”
“He’s a [expletive] UCLA guy,” replies the third person. “Just all of them are.”
Another voice jumps in, offering that LaVine is “hella fine, too.”
Someone asks how the others would rank Kings players by hotness. One voice votes for Simmons because of “his skincare routine.”
Apparently referring to the team’s woeful 22-60 record last season, the male voice responds by cracking, “Well, Ben wasn’t a King for the last year and a half either,” to which a female voice concedes, “That’s true.”
The reporters involved have not been publicly identified, and none of the players have responded. LaVine’s wife, Hunter, did offer a low-key comment to the Kings Muse recording, writing on X, “a great start to the season!”
The episode called to mind the hot mic that marred the Toronto Raptors’ postseason news conference last April. Two unidentified media members were heard making disparaging comments about players Scottie Barnes and Jonathan Mogbo.
“It’s not just his enunciation, which, like, was super bad, especially last year,” one person said about Barnes. “But even the attitude. Just the attitude — like he’s having fun up there. First year or even before, he just kept getting worse and worse every year.”
Rookie forward Mogbo was the next target. “When I first interviewed Mogbo when he was drafted, I was shocked ’cause he was so dumb,” the person said.
Raptors fans were appalled by the comments, but Barnes responded with humor on social media. It remains to be seen how Simmons and LaVine react.
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Taylor Tomlinson turns off the mic to tell all in ‘Actually, Nevermind’
There’s an alternate universe where Taylor Tomlinson is a young adult fantasy author holed up in a cabin miles from civilization.
“ I don’t know if you have some sort of backup career or backup life that you go to in your head when you’re overwhelmed or fed up with your career or whatever process you’re in,” she asks in the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel Denver ahead of a two-show night. “That was in the back of my head, [I was] like, ‘Well, I could just move to the woods and write books.’”
In this world, she’s a 32-year-old comedian with four Netflix stand-up specials and a two-season stint as the host of late-night game show “After Midnight.”
Her manager told her that people would probably be more interested in her memoir before a series centering on magic and dragons, so she started writing her own story two years ago.
A self-diagnosed workaholic, Tomlinson spent 10 years constantly moving. From a combination of mold exposure and severe burnout from filming “After Midnight” on weekdays and performing in different cities on weekends, she fell ill for months and was forced to take a break.
In that time, she wrote “Actually, Nevermind.” Coming out Tuesday, the autobiographical essay collection delves into the aspects of life that she changed her mind about since her mother died when she was 8 years old.
“Actually, Nevermind” opens with an eclectic mix of three quotes from “Anne of Green Gables” by Lucy Maud Montgomery, celebrated writer Joan Didion, and the 2001 Anne Hathaway-led comedy film “The Princess Diaries.” Tomlinson wanted a combination of funny and serious excerpts capturing grief, but also a quote about evolving as a person.
In the classic coming of age novel “Anne of Green Gables,” a young Anne Shirley states, “I’m not a bit changed — not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real me — back here — is just the same.”
That’s the essence of Tomlinson’s realizations in her book — she’s growing into herself but that girl who started performing stand-up shows on the church circuit at 16 is still in there.
Tomlinson has a bit from her first Netflix special “Quarter-Life Crisis” about your 20s being a period to “fish trash out of the lake before it freezes over.” She asks how I’m enjoying my 20s, to which I bluntly reply, “It’s a nightmare.”
“ My 20s were a nightmare, too, and I was waiting to be 30, and I was like, ‘When I turn 30, I’m going to be solidified and great.’ And then I turned 30, and it was like the last two years I have probably changed just as much, if not more, than I did in my 20s,” she says. “It’s been much rockier than I anticipated.”
In speaking with her friends, she realized they also felt a disconnect between the lives they envisioned for themselves and their realities. Tomlinson channeled that uncertainty into a jumping-off point for her book.
She reflected on when she began questioning the trajectory of her life and traced it back to her mother’s death.
“ I didn’t know if I was even going to write about my mom at all when I first got the book [deal] because I was like, ‘Well, I talked about it in ‘Look At You,’ and I’ve talked about it in interviews,’ but that’s the thing about losing a parent or any big traumatic grief event is you’re always getting hit by waves of it, and then you’re always untangling it,” she says.
In creating “Actually, Nevermind,” Tomlinson pored through her mother’s diary, deciding to include a few excerpts in the finished book. For most of Tomlinson’s life, she regarded her mother as a flawless, devout Christian whom she desperately yearned to impress.
Drawing on her mother’s diary, estrangement from her father and complex sibling bonds, Tomlinson confronts impossible standards, relinquishes parentified guilt and reframes what family means after loss.
(Sela Shiloni)
Her mother married young, so she tried to hit that milestone, too.
“I didn’t manage it and self-sabotaged a lot,” she says. “Now, I’m grateful that I didn’t get married young, but at the time it was all I wanted because I wanted to fit in and I wanted to be someone she would’ve liked, someone she had things in common with.”
Through reading her mother’s diary entries, Tomlinson began to heal from the impossible standards she set for herself to follow in her mother’s footsteps.
“ She was sort of this perfect, infallible character in my brain for so much of my childhood, so it was helpful to read about her being like, ‘I’m nervous about getting married. We got pregnant on accident,’” Tomlinson says. “There’s stuff I didn’t include about arguments she had with my dad in college. It was just very human, and it was very encouraging to go, ‘Oh, it wasn’t like this perfect frictionless decision for her.’ It’s not like she just nailed it and did everything perfectly.”
One of Tomlinson’s largest shifts in perspective was no longer feeling parental responsibility toward her three younger siblings.
“ I went from their sister to a weird half parent figure when I was still a kid,” she says. “And I made all these missteps because I was also a kid. And then young adulthood was confusing because I had been waiting for everyone to get old enough to be friends with me.”
Now, Tomlinson’s siblings all take care of each other in their own ways. She refers to them as her “soul mates” and feels guilty wishing for a romantic partner when she already has three lifelong best friends.
While Tomlinson remains close with some of her mother’s relatives, she has been estranged from her father for five years. She writes about the sadness of not speaking to someone you feel so alike, but she doesn’t go into extreme detail about cutting ties.
“ There’s some things you just want to keep for yourself, you know?” she says. “You don’t want every painful private detail about who you are and what’s happened to you available to Google because it just makes you feel like you’re a raw nerve walking around, and you can’t get it back once you’ve shared it.”
“And you want something to say on a fifth date,” she jokes.
After processing the heartache of losing another parent in a different way, Tomlinson allowed herself to miss the good memories with her father and assuage any longing for revenge.
In her essay “I’m Gay Now,” Tomlinson explores her bisexuality and the transition from chasing male validation to feeling comfortable in herself. She came out at around 28 years old. Part of what took her until then was feeling the need to prove that she deserved to identify as queer.
In essays on sexuality, faith and ambition, she trades the pursuit of perfection for hard-won self-acceptance, exposing a more vulnerable offstage self still learning to do her best.
(Sela Shiloni)
“ I think that’s just a theme throughout my entire life,” she says. “I felt like I needed to earn the label of comedian. I felt like I needed to earn the label of queer. I needed to earn love.”
Her brother helped her understand that she didn’t have to achieve the title — she’s always been gay.
With all of her adulthood realizations, Tomlinson also reflects on what she wishes she could tell her younger self. Talking to a 16-year-old Taylor, she writes, “The most valuable thing about us cannot be all the things we haven’t done.”
“ So much of my childhood was like, ‘Don’t drink, don’t do drugs, don’t have sex. Don’t step out of line,’” she says. “I wanted to experience things more than I wanted to be this pure version of myself that was performing for the Lord.”
“Actually, Nevermind” is a reflection of Tomlinson when she puts down the microphone, and she is nervous for readers to see that side of her.
“ I feel pretty good about me on stage. Me in the room, I feel really insecure about,” she says. “I’ve gotten to a place where I feel pretty confident about taking up like 45 minutes to an hour and a half of your time. Eight hours, I think, is what the audiobook is. I’m like, ‘Eight hours is a lot more than that.’ So it’s been a real test of confidence.”
After years of chasing perfection, Tomlinson says she finds comfort in knowing that she may never be the world’s greatest anything.
“ In my 20s, I think I was always trying to be the best,” she says. “And now I’m like, ‘I’m going to do my best.’”
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