Speaking to BBC Sport’s Kal Sajad, WBO interim heavyweight champion Fabio Wardley says he would like to face undisputed heavyweight champion Oleksandr Usyk next, following his victory against Joseph Parker.
Fabio Wardley pulls off a huge upset to wreck Joseph Parker’s dreams of becoming a two-time world heavyweight champion and put himself in position for a shot at undisputed champion Oleksandr Usyk.
It was a who’s who of the British heavyweight scene in the arena with Tyson Fury, Daniel Dubois, Moses Itauma, Derek Chisora and Dillian Whyte among the onlookers.
Usyk was not here, but he was the man this bout was all for.
Wardley walked to the ring decked out in Ipswich Town colours with the football club’s crest emblazoned on his kit.
He spoke in the build-up how it was remarkable that when Parker was winning the WBO heavyweight title in 2016, he was only competing in white-collar boxing.
Yet here he was on the same stage as the veteran Kiwi in a fight to determine the next challenger for Usyk, the greatest heavyweight of this era.
With Lee in his corner, Parker was a red-hot run coming into this bout of six wins including victories over the likes of Zhilei Zhang, Deontay Wilder and Martin Bakole.
As cries of ‘Oh Fabio Wardley’ rang around the arena, Parker established control with a ramrod of a jab that soon brought blood from the bridge of the Ipswich fighter’s nose.
The finish to the first three minutes was emphatic from the favourite as Parker powered through with a rocket of a right hand.
Parker’s control vanished when a right hand from Wardley rocked him in the second.
It would be a precursor to what would follow later in the fight. It was a beautiful shot and brought those ringside to their feet as the New Zealander looked unsteady on his.
The experience of Parker, in his 40th professional fight, looked like it was going to be crucial here. Wardley was always dangerous, but Parker was landing the better shots through the middle rounds.
The Kiwi’s left uppercuts to the body and right hands over the top were a particular highlight, but Wardley’s own backhand remained a threat.
The fight appeared to be fizzling out in the eighth before it burst back into life and swung firmly back in Wardley’s favour in the 10th.
He ensured his stunning story would get another chapter against Usyk when he swarmed Parker in the 11th with a barrage of shots which forced Foster to step in.
It may have been early but Wardley will argue that Parker was taking significant punishment.
Former world heavyweight champion Joseph Parker says he is “focused and prepared” before Saturday’s fight against Fabio Wardley, who hopes to rely on his punching power to get through their bout at London’s O2 Arena.
The Ipswich fighter came in at 17st 5lb (110 kg), consistent with his recent bouts.
“This is the one before the one. All the work is done. Training is ticked off. All the hard work is put in. Let’s get some rest now. Big night coming up tomorrow,” he added.
Spitalfields Market in east London saw more than fresh produce on the scales as the two heavyweights squared up for the final time before fight night.
Parker winked at the camera and bobbed along to the music.
As he flexed his muscles, he looked hefty and powerful as he tipped the scales at 18st 10lb (119 kg), just five pounds lighter than his career-heaviest.
It is a far cry from the 16st 12lb (107 kg) version who lost his world title to Anthony Joshua in 2018.
“We’re weary, we’re cautious, but I’m going to fight fire with fire and I’m going to get to him,” Parker said.
Kelsey Parker appeared on Loose Women this afternoon to speak about the process of grieving her stillborn son Phoenix, as she shared her daughter’s heartbreaking reaction
The podcast host and widow of The Wanted’s Tom Parker sadly announced her third child was born stillborn at 39 weeks in June. Kelsey looked forward to welcoming her first child with partner Will Lindsay, who she found love with two years after Tom’s tragic death from an inoperable brain tumor in 2022.
Kelsey Parker announced the happy news in January, but tragically, five months later, the 35-year-old broke the devastating news that the little boy who they had named Phoenix, was stillborn. She then took time away from both work and social media.
The star appeared on Loose Women to talk about her grief during Tuesday’s episode, in which spoke about the heartbreaking moment she had to tell Aurelia, six, and Bodhi, four, that the family had experienced death again with their younger sibling.
“Time has been really tough,” she said. “Because Aurelia’s six, I wasn’t giving her the right answer to what she wanted. I said, ‘Pheonix has died and Pheonix is with daddy now.’
“And she was like, ‘I hate dad, why does dad keep taking everyone?’ So that wasn’t the right answer. Again, you’re trying to find out for your children, what’s the right way to navigate this?
“And I think with my little Bodhi, he’s been through so much. I was 35 weeks pregnant when Tom was diagnosed, he was only 18 months when Tom died. I’m his hero, so as long I’m okay, he’s okay. But with Aurelia, she’s beyond her years.”
Earlier this year, sitting down to speak with Christine Lampard on Lorraine for the first time since the devastating loss, Kelsey opened up on how she grief once again with her two little ones.
“It’s being honest. It’s telling them facts. Because I never want them to feel like I’ve not been honest and years later they say, ‘Oh but mum, you didn’t tell me this and you didn’t tell me that!'” she said.
“They’ve lost their dad, they know their dad’s with the angels now, so we told them, ‘Phoenixhas gone with your daddy,'” Kelsey revealed she told her children as she shared the devastating news.
The star emphasised how important she felt it was to talk about grief, after she took time off social media to spend time with her family and allowing herself to grieve.
On this afternoon’s Loose Women, Kelsey explained how she went straight back to work following Tom’s tragic death, but this time, she made sure to take the time to grieve for herself.
“You need that moment for you. And I’ve listened to myself this time. I did rush back into work when Tom passed. But I listened to myself this time, and I’m actually proud that I took some time to sit with this.”
The current third season of the “Sex and the City” sequel will be its last, showrunner, writer and director Michael Patrick King said in a statement on social media Friday. And it’ll wrap in an exaggerated fashion that would suit Carrie’s style: a two-part finale on HBO Max, taking the season’s original 10 episodes to 12. Episodes 11 and 12 will air on Aug. 7 and 14, respectively, according to an HBO Max spokesperson.
“While I was writing the last episode of ‘And Just Like That …” Season 3, it became clear to me that this might be a wonderful place to stop,” he wrote on X, formerly Twitter. “SJP [Sarah Jessica Parker] and I held off announcing the news until now because we didn’t want the word ‘final’ to overshadow the fun of watching the season. It’s with great gratitude we thank all the viewers who let these characters into their homes and their hearts over these many years.”
The original “Sex and the City” series, which followed the lives of four friends — Carrie Bradshaw (Parker), Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon), Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) and Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) — premiered on HBO in 1998, ran for six seasons and was the springboard for two subsequent theatrical films. The sequel series reunited Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte and let viewers tag along on their midlife adventures in New York City.
But from its premiere in December 2021, the sequel to the popular HBO series was like a situationship viewers could never fully get a handle on. A crucial member of the friend group was absent (Samantha) and some viewers questioned the cast additions — ahem, Che Diaz — and changes to the characters’ personalities that felt inconsistent to fans who had journeyed alongside them .
Parker, who is also an executive producer of “And Just Like That …,” posted a lengthy, poem-like tribute to Carrie and the show on her Instagram account.
“Carrie Bradshaw has dominated my professional heartbeat for 27 years,” she wrote. “I think I have loved her most of all … MPK and I together recognized, as we have in the past, this chapter complete. AJLT was all joy, adventure, the greatest kind of hard work alongside the most extraordinary talent of 380 that includes all the brilliant actors who joined us. I am better for every single day I spent with you. It will be forever before I forget. The whole thing. Thank you all. I love you so. I hope you love these final two episodes as much as we all do.”
Last fall, the country singer Parker McCollum played a gig on the south shore of Lake Tahoe — the final date of a lengthy tour behind 2023’s “Never Enough” — then flew directly to New York City to start work on his next album.
“Probably the worst idea,” he says now, looking back at his unrelenting schedule. “I was absolutely cooked when I got there.”
Yet the self-titled LP he ended up making over six days at New York’s storied Power Station studio is almost certainly his best: a set of soulful, slightly scruffy roots-music tunes that hearkens back — after a few years in the polished Nashville hit machine — to McCollum’s days as a Texas-born songwriter aspiring to the creative heights of greats such as Guy Clark, Rodney Crowell and Townes Van Zandt. Produced by Eric Masse and Frank Liddell — the latter known for his work with Miranda Lambert and his wife, Lee Ann Womack — “Parker McCollum” complements moving originals like “Big Sky” (about a lonely guy “born to lose”) and “Sunny Days” (about the irretrievability of the past) with a tender cover of Danny O’Keefe’s “Good Time Charlie’s Got The Blues” and a newly recorded rendition of McCollum’s song “Permanent Headphones,” which he wrote when he was all of 15.
“Parker’s a marketing person’s dream,” Liddell says, referring to the 33-year-old’s rodeo-hero looks. “And what happens in those situations is they usually become more of a marketed product. But I think underneath, he felt he had more to say — to basically confess, ‘This is who I am.’” Liddell laughs. “I tried to talk him out of it.”
McCollum, who grew up in privileged circumstances near Houston and who’s now married with a 10-month-old son named Major, discussed the album on a recent swing through Los Angeles. He wore a fresh pair of jeans and a crisp denim shirt and fiddled with a ZYN canister as we spoke.
I was looking online at your — Nudes?
At your Instagram. The other day you posted a picture of a box of Uncrustables on a private jet. That photo was not supposed to make the internet. That was an accident — my fault. I don’t ever post about my plane on the internet.
You’re a grown man. Why Uncrustables? That’s an adult meal that children are very, very fortunate to get to experience.
Did you know when you finished this record that you’d done something good? Yes. But I didn’t know that until the last day we were in the studio and we listened to everything, top to bottom. The six days in the studio that we recorded this record, I was s—ing myself: “What the f— have I done? Why did I come to New York and waste all this time and money? This is terrible.” Then on the last day we listened all the way through, and I was like, Finally.
Finally what? I just felt like I never was as focused and convicted and bought-in as I was on this record. I felt kind of desperate — like, “Am I just gonna keep doing the same thing, or are we gonna go get uncomfortable?”
Why New York? One reason is that city makes me feel like a rock star. In my head when I was in high school dreaming about being a songwriter or a country singer, I was picturing huge budgets, making badass albums in New York City or L.A., staying in dope hotels — just this fairy tale that you believe in. The other reason is that when you’re cutting records in Nashville, people are leaving at 5 to go pick up their kids, or the label’s stopping by and all this s—. I just wanted to avoid all of that — I didn’t want to record three songs on a Tuesday in June and then record three songs on a Tuesday in August. I wanted to go make a record.
Lot of history at Power Station: Chic, Bruce Springsteen, David Bowie. John Mayer wrote a song and recorded it in a day there — that song “In Repair,” with him and Charlie Hunter and Steve Jordan. That’s how I found out about the studio years ago. We actually ended up writing a song in the studio: “New York Is On Fire.”
A very John Mayer title. I wanted to go in the late fall when the trees were changing colors and the air was cool.
Why was Frank Liddell the guy to produce? I knew if he understood Chris Knight and the songs he had written that he could probably understand me and the songs I had written. I’d made half a record with Jon Randall, who’d produced my last two albums. And I love Jon Randall — he’s one of my closest friends in the world, four No. 1s together, multi-platinum this and multi-platinum that. But I just needed to dig deeper, and Frank was a guy who was down to let the songs do the work.
What do you think would’ve become of the record you were making with Randall? It would’ve sounded great, and it would’ve had some success. But I don’t know if I would’ve been as emotionally involved as I was with Frank. Frank got a better version of me than Jon did.
What if nobody likes this record? It’s like the first time I’m totally OK with that.
Country radio moves slowly, which means “What Kinda Man” may end up being a big hit. But it’s not a big hit yet. It probably won’t be. The only reason that song went to radio is because “Burn It Down” had gone No. 1, and the label wanted another one. I was like, “Fine, go ahead.” I’ve never one time talked with them about what song should go to radio.
On this project. Ever. I just don’t care. The song that goes to radio is very rarely the best song on the record.
What was the best song on “Never Enough”? Probably “Too Tight This Time.” It’s slow and sad, which is my specialty.
You recently told Texas Monthly, “I don’t write fun songs. I’ve never really liked them.” There’s some I like. “Always Be My Baby” by Mariah Carey f—ing slaps. I love feel-good songs. But in country music, feel-good songs are, like, beer-and-truck-and-Friday-night songs, and those have never done anything for me.
“What Kinda Man” is kind of fun. But I think it’s still well-written. It’s not all the clichés that every song on the radio has in it.
What’s the best song on this album? “Hope That I’m Enough” or “Solid Country Gold” or “My Worst Enemy” or “My Blue.”
Lot of choices. I love this record. I don’t think I’ll ever do any better.
Is that a sad thought? Eh. I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna do it anyways.
Why would you hang it up? I don’t know that I’m going to. But I don’t think I’m gonna do this till I’m 70. We’ve been doing these stadium shows with George Strait — I think I’m out a lot sooner than him.
You watch Strait’s set? Every night.
What have you learned from him? When it comes to George, what I really pay attention to is everything off the stage. No scandals, so unbelievably humble and consistent and under the radar. The way he’s carried himself for 40 years — I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody else do it that well. I’d love to be the next George Strait off the stage.
I’m not sure his under-the-radar-ness is possible today. I fight with my team all the time. They’re always trying to get my wife and kid in s—, and I’m like, “They’re not for sale.” I understand I have to be a little bit — it’s just the nature of the business. But at home, that’s the real deal — that ain’t for show.
“I can’t explain how deeply emotional songs make me — it controls my entire being,” McCollum says. “The right song in the right moment is everything to me.”
(Matt Seidel / For The Times)
I’d imagine People magazine would love to do a spread with you and your beautiful wife and your beautiful child. They offered for the wedding. I was like, “Abso-f—ing-lutely not.” I don’t want anybody to know where I live or what I drive or what I do in my spare time. And nowadays that’s currency — people filming their entire lives. Call me the old man, but I’m trying to go the complete opposite direction of that.
One could argue that your resistance isn’t helpful for your career. I’m fine with that.
Fine because you’re OK money-wise? I’m sure that plays into it. But, man, my childhood is in a box in my mom’s attic. And nowadays everybody’s childhood is on the internet for the whole world to see. I’m just not down with that. I don’t want to make money off of showing everybody how great my life is. Because it is f—ing great. I feel like I could make $100 million a year if I was a YouTuber — it’s movie s—. The way it started, the way I came up, the woman I married, the child I had — there’s no holes.
Where does the pain in your music come from? I’ve thought about that for a long time. I don’t think it’s the entire answer, but I think if your parents divorced when you were little, for the rest of your life there’s gonna be something inside you that’s broken. My parents’ divorce was pretty rowdy, and I remember a lot of it. And I don’t think those things ever fully go away.
How do you think about the relationship between masculinity and stoicism? It never crosses my mind.
Is your dad a guy who talks about his feelings? F— no.
Was he scary? I think he could be. My dad’s the s—. He’s the baddest son of a bitch I’ve ever met in my life.
What image of masculinity do you want to project for your son? When I think about raising Major, I just want him to want to win. Can fully understand you’re not always going to, but you should always want to, no matter what’s going on. I hope he’s a winner.
When’s the last time you cried? Actually wasn’t very long ago. A good friend of mine died — Ben Vaughn, who was the president of my publishing company in Nashville. I played “L.A. Freeway,” the Guy Clark song, at his memorial service a couple weeks ago. That got me pretty good.
You said you’re OK if fans don’t like this record. I don’t need anyone else to like it. I hope that they love it — I hope it hits them right in the f—ing gut and that these songs are the ones they go listen to in 10 years when they want to feel like they did 10 years ago. That’s what music does for me. But I know not everybody feels music as intensely as I do.
Was that true for you as a kid? Even 6, 7, 8 years old, I’d listen to a song on repeat over and over and over again. I can’t explain how deeply emotional songs make me — it controls my entire being. The right song in the right moment is everything to me. Where I live, there’s a road called River Road, in the Hill Country in Texas. It’s the most gorgeous place you’ve ever been in your life, and I’ll go drive it. I know the exact minute that I should be there in the afternoons at this time of year to catch the light through the trees, and I’ll have the songs I’m gonna play while I’m driving that road.
You know what song you want to hear at a certain bend in the road. Probably a little psychotic.
Are you one of these guys who wants the towels to hang on the rack just so? I like things very clean and organized.
Is that because you grew up in that kind of environment or because you grew up in the opposite? My mom was very clean and organized. But I don’t know — I’ve never one time gone to bed with dirty dishes in the sink. My wife cooks dinner all the time when I’m home, and as soon as we’re done, I do all the dishes and load the dishwasher and wipe the counters down.
You could never just chill and let it go. No, it’s messy. It’s gross.
Parker McCollum performs at the Stagecoach festival in 2023.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Do people ever interpret your intensity as, “This dude’s kind of a d—?” People would always tell me I was cocky, and I’d be like, I don’t feel cocky at all. I was raised to have great manners: take my hat off when I meet a lady, look somebody in the eye with a firm handshake, “Yes, ma’am,” “No, ma’am,” “Yes, sir,” “No, sir,” no matter the age or the gender of the person. Manners were such a crazy thing in my childhood — it’s the only way I know how to speak to people. So I’ve always thought it was so weird, in high school, girls would be like, “Oh, you’re so cocky.”
I mean, I’ve seen the “What Kinda Man” video. You obviously know you look cool. I don’t think that at all. I think I look kind of dumb.
I’m not sure whether to believe you. I couldn’t be more serious. This is very weird for me to say, but Frank finally put into words what I’ve always felt with every photographer, anybody I’ve ever worked with in the business since I was 19 years old — he said, “This record sounds like Parker’s heart and mind and not his face.” The fact that I’m not 5-foot-7 with a beard and covered in tattoos — it’s like nobody ever thinks that the songs are gonna have any integrity.
Boo-hoo for the pretty boy. People always called me “Hollywood,” “pretty boy,” all this stuff. I guess it’s better than calling you a f—ing fat-ass. But I’ve never tried to capitalize on that at any point in time. I’ve always just wanted to be a songwriter.
But you know how to dress. Kind of?
Come on, man — the gold chains, the Lucchese boots. That’s all to compensate for the fact that I don’t know what the f— to wear. I know I like gold and diamonds. Loved rappers when I was younger. Waylon Jennings wore gold chains and diamonds, Johnny Cash did — they always looked dope. I was always like, I want to do that too.
If the fans’ approval isn’t crucial, whose approval does mean something to you? George Strait. John Mayer. Steve Earle. My older brother. My dad.
You know Mayer? We’ve talked on Instagram.
Why is he such a big one for you? The commitment to the craft, I think, is what I’ve admired so much about him. It’s funny: When I was younger, I always said I was never gonna get married and have kids because I knew John Mayer was never going to, and I really respected how he was just gonna chase whatever it is that he was chasing forever. Then he got into records like “The Search for Everything” and “Sob Rock,” and he kind of hints at the fact that he missed out on that — he wishes he had a wife, wishes he had kids. That really resonated with me. I was like, all right, I don’t want to be 40 and alone. It completely changed my entire perspective on my future.
You played “Courtesy Of The Red, White And Blue” by the late Toby Keith at one of Donald Trump’s inaugural balls in January. What do you like about that song? I bleed red, white and blue. I’m all about the United States of America — I’m all about what it stands for. A lot of people get turned off by that nowadays. I don’t care — I’m not worried about if you’re patriotic or not. But Toby was a great songwriter, and I love how much he loved his country.
In that Texas Monthly interview, you said you felt it was embarrassing for people to be affected emotionally by an artist’s political affiliation. Nobody used to talk about it, and now it’s so polarizing. Am I not gonna listen to Neil Young now? I’m gonna listen to Neil Young all the f—ing time.
Why do you think audiences started caring? Social media and the constant flood of information and political propaganda that people are absorbing around the clock. It’s just so dumb. I’ve got guys in my band and in my crew that are conservative and guys that are liberal. It makes no difference to me.
Of course you knew how your involvement with Trump would be taken. Think about being 16, wanting to be a country singer, then getting to go play the presidential inauguration. What a crazy honor. There’s not a single president in history who was perfect — not a single one that didn’t do something wrong, not a single one that only did wrong. I just don’t care what people think about that stuff. Everybody feels different about things, and nowadays it’s like two sides of the fence — you either agree with this or you agree with that. I’m not that way.
What do you think happens next for you? This is the only record I’ve ever made that I didn’t think about that as soon as I walked out of the studio. I have no idea what the next record is gonna be. Not a clue.
If we meet again in two years and you’ve made a record full of trap beats, what would that mean? Probably that I was on drugs again.
When Candace Parker was on the court, the Sparks were dominant. On the afternoon her jersey was retired, they had a chance to channel that energy — but the Sparks were anything but overpowering.
In a matchup between the two franchises Parker led to WNBA titles — the Sparks and Chicago Sky — her hometown team played spoiler, earning a 92-85 victory at Crypto.com Arena.
Angel Reese, the self-proclaimed queen of “Mebounds,” proved too much for L.A. to handle — for the second time in five days.
Reese finished with 16 rebounds, including four on the offensive glass. Her impact extended beyond the boards, with Reese adding 24 points and seven assists.
Entering the game, Sparks coach Lynne Roberts praised Reese as “elite,” underscoring her high motor and physicality, adding that the Sparks would need to be the aggressors to slow her down.
But they were out-hustled and out-muscled down the final stretch of the game.
“We just got to be tougher,” Roberts said. “Sustain runs, handle adversity, performance issues, bad calls — whatever.”
For the Sparks, it was a must-win game — not only to build on their recent 85–75 win over the Indiana Fever, but also to avoid spoiling Parker’s retirement celebration.
“We would have loved [to have won],” Roberts added. “I think we all wanted that win for her, so it’s disappointing — it’s kind of extra disappointing.”
Sparks guard Kelsey Plum (10) draws a foul while driving in front of Chicago Sky forward Angel Reese Sunday at Crytpo.com Arena.
(Jessie Alcheh / Associated Press)
While the Sparks (5-12) struggled against Reese for most of the game, forward Emma Cannon gave L.A. a surge off the bench. Undersized Cannon made life difficult for Reese during key stretches, drawing a technical foul during a tense third-quarter exchange in the post.
Cannon’s second-half performance briefly turned the tide. With the Sparks trailing by 12 — their largest deficit of the game — Cannon helped fuel a 24–5 run that put L.A. ahead 60–53. She finished with a season-high 15 points in four minutes.
But the Sky didn’t go away. By the end of the third, the Sparks led just 62–61 — and in the fourth, Chicago closed strong. Behind Reese, the Sky ballooned the lead back to double digits — 82–72 — too much for the Sparks to overcome.
“We have to learn how to finish games, and it’s not necessarily what the other team does,” Cannon said. “It’s just about us actually digging in and buying in and finishing it.”
A rally in the final minutes, led by Kelsey Plum, Azurá Stevens and Dearica Hamby, fell short.
Plum (22 points), Stevens (17 points) and Hamby (20 points) accounted for the bulk of the Sparks’ offense, combining for 59 of the team’s 85 points.
“It’s a choice when you’re hit with adversity or you lose, when you don’t perform the way you want to,” Roberts said on learning lessons from losses. “It’s a choice as to how you approach it, and there is no magic formula.”
Parker honored
The game was a tribute to Parker. At the arena entrance, fans were greeted by a purple and gold floral arrangement shaped like the No. 3. Video messages from Lakers legends, including Magic Johnson and Michael Cooper, played throughout the festivities.
Before Parker received a thunderous ovation as her No. 3 jersey was revealed in the rafters, she addressed the fans.
“They say athletes have two deaths — one being when your career ends — but I look at it as two lives,” Parker said during her halftime speech. “It’s never easy to put the ball down and move from your first love. That’s something I learned throughout my career here through basketball, and I’m going to carry it into the next phase of life.”
Former Sparks star Candace Parker waves while standing beside her family during her jersey retirement ceremony Sunday at Crypto.com Arena.
(Jessie Alcheh / Associated Press)
Before the game, she also reflected on the full-circle moment — standing in the same arena where she won her first WNBA championship, fittingly against her hometown team, the Chicago Sky. She won a title with the Sky in 2021 and will see her jersey retired by the franchise this August.
“Seeing the No. 3 in the rafters where I first picked up the ball, and where is home now, is incredible,” Parker said. “It’s about dreams and opportunity. … So I hope that that inspires those little girls out there.”
Her jersey is just the third retired in Sparks history, joining former teammate Leslie’s No. 9 and longtime general manager Penny Toler’s No. 11.
“When it was time for me to say goodbye, I knew when I handed the keys to Candace Parker,” said Leslie, who introduced Parker during the halftime jersey retirement ceremony. “She not only took the key to the building — but she ran with it.”
In 2000, whispers of a 13-year-old phenom from Naperville, Ill. — a Chicago suburb — began reverberating through the AAU circuit. Generational. Dominant. Striking. Perhaps the greatest women’s basketball prospect ever. Candace Parker’s name rang out far beyond her hometown.
Word soon reached every elite college basketball program in the country — from Durham, N.C., to College Park, Md., to Knoxville, Tenn. — each clamoring for her talents. Few truly stood a chance.
“Her game at such an early age was something I had never seen in person,” said Nikki Fargas, then an assistant coach at Tennessee. “To see her do it so young tells you a lot. … She was undeniable, and her presence was felt.”
Long before Parker’s illustrious professional career and her Sparks jersey retirement ceremony Sunday — three championships, two MVPs, rookie of the year, defensive player of the year, Finals MVP, two Olympic golds, seven All-Star nods and 10 All-WNBA selections — she was simply “Ace,” a sweatband-wearing, bob-cut sporting teenager set to graduate.
Fargas, who won a national title under legendary coach Pat Summitt, was Tennessee’s recruiting director in 2003 and was looking to make a splash with her first class. The moment she saw Parker in person, she was certain: Parker would be a Lady Vol.
By her senior year in high school, Parker had grown into a 6-foot-4 national player of the year and state champion.
Candace Parker was considered one of the top college recruits while at Naperville Central High in a suburb outside of Chicago.
(Anne Ryan / Associated Press)
Fargas attended all of Parker’s games at Naperville Central High, a nearly 1,100-mile round trip. She sat in the Redhawks’ gym bleachers, decked out in Tennessee orange while sending a not-so-subtle message, often with Summitt by her side.
Fargas made her final pitch clear and direct: Parker could become the greatest under Summitt.
Joining Rocky Top
On Nov. 11, 2003, at the start of her senior year, Parker committed to Tennessee live on ESPNews — the first women’s basketball player to commit on national TV. Parker later told ESPN, “I wanted to be a professional basketball player. I loved that Knoxville was centered around women’s basketball.”
“Candace is the most versatile 6-foot-3 player at this stage of her game that I’ve ever seen,” Summitt said in a Tennessee news release announcing Parker’s signing a letter of intent. “She can play every position on the floor, from point guard to post, … Truly a great inside-outside player. … The total package.”
Parker’s arrival sent a jolt through Rocky Top. At just 18, she brought weighty expectations — it was championship or bust. For several years, it had been bust for Tennessee, which hadn’t won a national title since the late ’90s.
After missing her freshman year because of a knee injury, Parker proved to be better than advertised, propelling the Lady Vols back onto the national stage.
“Even in college, not only did she dunk, but she was able to pass, able to shoot at her position, able to do things that bigs weren’t doing,” said Noelle Quinn, a former Southland prep star and head coach of the Seattle Storm. “It was easy for Candace. It was easy for that team.”
Tennessee coach Pat Summitt gives instructions to Candace Parker during the 2007 NCAA title game against Rutgers.
(Tony Dejak / Associated Press)
Quinn experienced the Summitt-Parker era firsthand. In 2006, she led UCLA into an early-season clash on the road against No. 1 Tennessee — the start of Parker’s first title run.
“It was an amazing environment to play in — a game I’ll never forget,” Quinn recalled. Parker and Quinn led their teams in scoring — Parker with 22 points, Quinn with 20. Tennessee’s dominance with Parker at the helm was clear, Quinn said.
At the height of the team’s back-to-back championship runs, Fargas said traveling with the Lady Vols “was like traveling with rock stars.” Summitt’s fearless approach — taking on anyone, anywhere — kept Tennessee in the spotlight, with Parker as the undisputed headliner.
“What we’re seeing right now with Angel Reese and Caitlin Clark — bringing awareness, getting people to watch and increasing attendance — Parker was doing that already,” Fargas said. “Fans would be lined up at our hotel. Our bus would pull up and there were the fans.”
By the end of her college career, Parker had accomplished everything — two-time AP player of the year, 2008 Naismith college player of the year, and most outstanding player during both national title runs — the last of which was Summitt’s final championship.
“She fits in at the top,” Fargas said of Parker’s place in program history. “When you talk about Lady Vols, Parker is maybe the first of the names people talk about. … She was different.”
Big L.A. dreams
Parker was arguably the WNBA’s most anticipated prospect — a franchise-altering talent. Yet one question loomed: Who would land her?
In 2006, the Sparks were in championship contention, reaching the conference finals with MVP Lisa Leslie. But when Leslie missed the following season on maternity leave, the team plummeted to 10–24 — tied for worst in the league.
With a 34.1% chance at the No. 1 pick, the pingpong balls bounced the Sparks’ way.
Candace Parker, left, and Lisa Leslie crack jokes as they check their height at a Sparks photo shoot in 2008.
(Damian Dovarganes / Associated Press)
Questions swirled about how Parker and Leslie would coexist. Leslie says she never saw a problem — only potential. She called herself “Smooth” and Parker “Silk,” and welcomed the role of hardening the rookie, likening it to “having another baby.”
For a time, Leslie lived a few floors from Parker in the team’s player housing, keeping tabs on Parker’s habits. She’d make her oatmeal and slice up fruit because Parker “wouldn’t eat well,” gently pushing through rookie stubbornness toward authority, nudging her toward the weight room and stressing the importance of body maintenance.
The wisdom of one MVP — and the freedom granted by Sparks coach Michael Cooper — helped ignite the greatest rookie season in WNBA history. Parker captured both rookie of the year and MVP honors, joining an exclusive club with NBA legends Wilt Chamberlain and Wes Unseld.
“Candace always showed greatness,” Leslie said. “Each generation, we’ve done our part. You carry that torch as far as you can, and hand it off with grace.”
The torch was Parker’s to bear into the next decade. But nine seasons in, she was still chasing her first Finals appearance, let alone a championship. Years of coaching changes, early playoff exits and unmet expectations had left the franchise — and its star — without a title.
Brian Agler’s first year as Sparks head coach started rocky with a 3–14 record, as Parker sat out the first half of the 2015 season after playing overseas. As the losses mounted, Parker prepared for a return and called Agler to arrange a closed workout.
“I think she wanted to play into me as, ‘OK, I’m gonna come back and get ready,’” Agler said. “But in reality, she was sort of measuring me up.”
Agler believed it was a test to see whether she thought he was the right fit — if he could lead the team to a championship, just as he had done with the Seattle Storm in 2010.
Sparks forward Candace Parker drives past Lynx forward Rebekkah Brunson during a game in 2012.
(Stacy Bengs / Associated Press)
By the following season, with the pieces in play, contending for a championship seemed within reach. But the 2016 season wasn’t without turmoil for Parker. She was surprisingly left off the USA Olympic team, faced marital strife and mourned the loss of Summitt, who died of complications from Alzheimer’s.
On the court, Parker remained a force, and helped foster the rise of one of the league’s best — former No. 1 overall pick and MVP Nneka Ogwumike. Like Leslie had done for her, Parker took Ogwumike under her wing.
“For the most part, I was someone who paid attention to what vets did, and I spent a lot of time watching what she did,” Ogwumike said of Parker. “She helped me understand [the game] from a different lens, from a more advanced perspective coming in from college. We were able to develop some great chemistry.”
Agler said their connection “was as special as I’ve seen,” adding that Ogwumike “probably understood Candace better than most anybody.”
In Parker’s first WNBA Finals, she led the Sparks through a dramatic series against the Lynx, capped by a 28-point and 12-rebound performance in Game 5 to secure the title and Finals MVP.
Through tears, she found the only words she could muster: “This is for Pat.”
“I’m sure it [the pressure] was there for her,” Agler said. “I just remember when we won, how happy she was. She almost collapsed on the floor with joy. … That’s really the only time I’ve seen her that way in a public setting.”
Soon after the championship run, a divide grew between Parker and the organization. In her new book, “The Can-do Mindset,” Parker reflects on strained relationships with the front office, a carousel of head coaches and a growing distrust that ultimately fractured her relationship with the Sparks.
“The culture was toxic, and whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was a part of that culture and had been absorbed in that toxicity,” Parker wrote in her book, referring to the breakup. “I had to admit to myself that I didn’t like who I’d become in my years with the Sparks. It takes two to tango. So though I didn’t create the culture, I was still at fault in my own way.”
Chasing more titles and ownership
Candace Parker, center right, celebrates with Chicago Sky teammates after winning the 2021 WNBA title.
(Paul Beaty / Associated Press)
After 13 years, Parker decided to leave the Sparks. It’s a move Leslie called “unfortunate,” adding she had “no idea how they let her get away.” But Parker announced she was ready to find “a sense of peace,” signing with the Chicago Sky — moving as close to her native Naperville as possible.
During free agency, Parker called Azurá Stevens, who had just wrapped her first season with the Sky. Curious about the team and open to a fresh start, Parker asked about Stevens’ experience. Stevens still describes the conversation as “surreal,” thrilled by the idea of sharing the court with her childhood idol.
Growing up, Stevens — now the Sparks’ starting forward — modeled her game after Parker. Standing 6-foot-6, she admired Parker’s versatility and poise, and now, the two would be teammates in the same starting lineup.
“We had an up-and-down year and went through a lot that season,” Stevens recalls of the team finishing .500. “Candace definitely led the way. … A strong veteran presence for us to keep us level-headed. And once we got to the playoffs, we flipped the switch.”
Seattle Storm guard Lexie Brown — like Stevens — followed Parker’s career. Finally playing alongside her in Chicago, what stood out wasn’t just Parker’s talent, but her relentless devotion while juggling motherhood, a broadcasting career and a championship run. “I remember watching her on TNT the night before, and she’d pull up to practice with some of her makeup still on,” Brown said. “She was really dedicated to helping us win. That was a special season for me.”
In the twilight of her career, Parker still showed flashes of the once baby-haired assassin who shook up the WNBA.
“It was a homecoming for the whole year,” Stevens said of Parker’s move to Chicago. “Being able to go back home and then bring a franchise its first championship is really special. The city really showed out for her.”
After two seasons in Chicago, Parker decided to reunite with Fargas — the coach who recruited Parker to Tennessee and eventually became president of the Las Vegas Aces.
With a championship pedigree and legacy to match, Parker’s new role was no longer the star but the connector. Her signing was meant to elevate A’ja Wilson, Kelsey Plum and Jackie Young — all former No. 1 picks — to their fullest potential.
“She brought a calmness to our team,” Fargas said. “We already had a high-powered offense. … But having her on our team definitely helped raise and bring a championship culture.”
Candace Parker won her third WNBA championship with the Las Vegas Aces in 2023.
(Lindsey Wasson / Associated Press)
The outcome? A third championship with a third different team — another WNBA first.
But the victory came with a bittersweet edge. An ankle injury sidelined Parker for much of the season. “She did everything in her power to get back to us. … I know that was very difficult for her,” Fargas said.
With wear and tear piling up, Parker announced her retirement — opening with a borrowed line from a Jay-Z verse on the track “Dear Summer”:
“Dear Summer, I know you gon’ miss me …”
“I love his lyrics, but I love how he’s redefined what rappers are capable of,” Parker said of Jay-Z during an interview with ESPNW in 2023. “That’s what I hope to do for women’s basketball players. … I want to be that business leader, that business mind.”
Soon after retiring, Parker joined an investment group aiming to bring a WNBA franchise to Tennessee. Billionaire and former Gov. Bill Haslam — now chairman of the NHL’s Nashville Predators — and his wife, Crissy, led the Nashville-based bid. They’ve assembled a star-studded roster that includes Parker, Pro Football Hall of Famer Peyton Manning and country music icons Tim McGraw and Faith Hill.
“When I called her the first time, I said, ‘Candace, we’d love you to be involved, and we don’t just want your name,’” Haslam recalled. “She was really quick to say, ‘Well, that’s great, because that’s the only way I would be involved.’”
With the WNBA set to expand to 16 teams by 2028, the group submitted its formal bid in January. The group proposes calling the team Tennessee Summitt.
“To see Candace join an ownership group — why not?” Fargas said. “Why aren’t there more opportunities for the players who helped shape this league? Why aren’t there those opportunities to allow them to not only play the game, but also invest in it?”
PITTSBURGH — Dave Parker, a hard-hitting outfielder who was set to be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame next month, has died, the Pittsburgh Pirates announced Saturday. He was 74.
No further details about Parker’s death were immediately available. The Pirates informed the crowd of his death just before the start of their game against the New York Mets and held a moment of silence.
Nicknamed “the Cobra,” the 6-foot-5 Parker made his major league debut in 1973 and played 19 seasons, 11 for the Pirates. He was the NL MVP in 1978, won a World Series with Pittsburgh a year later and then won another championship in 1989 with the Oakland Athletics.
Parker won NL batting titles in 1977 and ’78. He finished his career as a .290 hitter with 339 homers and 1,493 RBIs. He also played for Cincinnati, Milwaukee, the Angels and Toronto.
Parker was elected to the Hall of Fame by a special committee in December. The induction ceremony in Cooperstown, N.Y., is set for July 27.
“We join the baseball family in remembering Dave Parker. His legacy will be one of courage and leadership, matched only by his outstanding accomplishments on the field,” Hall chairman Jane Forbes Clark said in a statement. “His election to the Hall of Fame in December brought great joy to him, his family and all the fans who marveled at his remarkable abilities.”
Born on June 9, 1951 in Grenada, Miss., Parker grew up in Cincinnati and was a three-sport star at Courter Tech High.
After playing for Pittsburgh from 1973-83, he signed with his hometown Reds and spent four seasons with the club. In 1985 he led the NL with 125 RBIs and was second in the MVP voting.
“He was such a big dude at a time when there weren’t that many ‘6-foot-5, 230-pound, dynamic defender, batting champion with power’ guys,” Hall of Famer and Reds teammate Barry Larkin said. “Everything about him was impressive.”
Parker was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2012.
He told reporters that he burst into tears upon learning of his selection to the Hall of Fame.
“Yeah, I cried,” Parker said after receiving the news. “It only took a few minutes, because I don’t cry.”
Parker homered for the A’s in the 1989 World Series opener and took credit for helping the Bash Brothers of Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire take the title with a four-game sweep of San Francisco.
He was a seven-time All-Star and three-time Gold Glove right fielder.
“I was a five-tool player. I could do them all,” Parker said after his Hall of Fame selection. “I never trotted to first base. I don’t know if people noticed that, but I ran hard on every play.”
Lorraine Kelly sent a message of support on her ITV show to Kelsey Parker following the tragic loss of her stillborn son Phoenix Parker-Lindsay just weeks before her due date
Tom captured the hearts of fans as one-fifth of chart-topping boyband The Wanted, known for hits like Glad You Came and All Time Low.
Even while undergoing treatment, he continued to perform, famously taking to the stage with the band in emotional final performances during their reunion tour.
She has organised an annual charity football match in his name to raise funds and awareness for brain cancer research – a cause that now means everything to her.
