Rob

Rob Gronkowski first retired from the NFL in 2019 as a member of the New England Patriots.

The future Hall of Fame tight end retired again in 2022 as a member of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

And even though he hasn’t played in the league since then, it appears that Gronk will retire one more time, again as a member of the Patriots.

The idea of Gronkowski signing a ceremonial one-day contract with the team that he helped win three Super Bowls was floated publicly Tuesday by Susan Hurley, the founder and president of the CharityTeams fundraising firm for nonprofits.

Hurley was speaking at a ribbon-cutting ceremony for the newly built “Gronk Playground” on the Charles River Esplanade in Boston when she threw in a personal plea toward Patriots owner Robert Kraft, who was sitting behind Hurley next to Gronkowski.

“Can we just make it official and sign [Gronkowski] for a day so he can retire as a Patriot?” Hurley asked before looking in Kraft’s direction and adding, “What do you say?”

Gronkowski applauded and nodded while looking in Kraft’s direction. The owner, who was off camera at the time, apparently gave his approval, as Gronkowski later confirmed to reporters.

“[Kraft] gave her a thumbs up, so we’re going to make it happen in the future and it’s gonna be a special moment,” the five-time Pro Bowl selection said. “Come back for a day, a weekend, whatever it is. So we’ll make it happen and it will be a really, really cool moment. It’s gonna happen, we just don’t know when.”

The Patriots have not announced such a move and did not respond immediately on Thursday to The Times’ request to comment. On Wednesday, a somewhat less official announcement came on the Instagram account of the “Dudes on Dudes” podcast hosted by Gronkowski and former Patriots teammate Julian Edelmen.

“Gronk will sign a one day contract and retire a New England Patriot,” read the post that was accompanied by a video that featured Gronkowski speaking on the podcast about being drafted by the Patriots. The video doesn’t mention anything about him signing a one-day contract with the team, but it does feature a graphic that reads: “Breaking — Gronk will retire a New England Patriot.”

New England selected Gronkowski in the second round of the 2010 draft. He became a key and beloved member of the team’s dynasty under coach Bill Belichick and quarterback Tom Brady. After Brady left for Tampa Bay before the 2020 season, Gronkowski came out of retirement to join him and ended up winning his fourth career Super Bowl that year.

Rob Manfred normally does what many fans consider an annoyingly effective job of keeping Major League Baseball’s strategic plans out of the public square.

So maybe the MLB commissioner was caught in an unguarded moment, staring down at a diamond from the ESPN “Sunday Night Baseball” booth in the cozy confines of Williamsport, Pa., and the Little League World Series.

Or maybe his comments were calculated. Either way, he spoke freely about how expanding from the current 30 teams could create an ideal chance to reset the way teams are aligned in divisions and leagues.

Manfred was asked on air for a window into the future. Expansion, realignment, both?

“The first two topics are related, in my mind,” he replied. “I think if we expand, it provides us with an opportunity to geographically realign. I think we could save a lot of wear and tear on our players in terms of travel. And I think our postseason format would be even more appealing for entities like ESPN, because you’d be playing out of the East and out of the West.”

Taking that thinking to an extreme would put the Dodgers and Angels in a division with, say, the San Diego Padres, San Francisco Giants, Las Vegas Athletics and Seattle Mariners.

Would that collection — let’s call it the Pacific Division — be part of the American or National League? Maybe neither. Instead, geographic realignment could result in Eastern and Western Conferences similar to the NBA.

Pushback from traditionalists might be vigorous. Call them leagues, call them conferences, geographical realignment would make for some strange bedfellows.

Former MLB player and current MLB Network analyst Cameron Maybin posted on X that making sure the divisions are balanced is more important than geography.

“Manfred’s realignment talk isn’t just about moving teams around, it tilts playoff balance,” Maybin said on X. “Some divisions get watered down others overloaded and rivalries that drive October story lines we love, vanish. Baseball needs competitive integrity not manufactured shakeups.”

Yet Manfred makes a persuasive argument that grouping teams by geographic location would have its benefits.

“That 10 o’clock time slot where we sometimes get lost in Anaheim would be two West Coast teams,” he said. “Then that 10 o’clock spot that’s a problem for us becomes an opportunity for our West Coast audience. I think the owners realize there is a demand for Major League Baseball in a lot of great cities, and we have an opportunity to do something good around that expansion process.”

Manfred said in February that he’d like expansion to be approved by 2029, his last year as commissioner. MLB hasn’t expanded since the Arizona Diamondbacks and Tampa Bay (Devil) Rays were added in 1998.

Expansion teams “won’t be playing by the time I’m done, but I would like the process along and [locations] selected,” Manfred said.

Several cities are courting MLB for a franchise, and the league is reported to be leaning toward Nashville and Salt Lake City as favorites. Portland, Orlando, San Antonio and Charlotte are other possibilities.

The Times’ Bill Shaikin has pointed out that geographical realignment would be tied to schedule reform that could help kindle rivalries and encourage fans to visit opposing ballparks that are within driving distance.

The future home of the Rays is in flux, and that decision likely will precede MLB choosing expansion cities, even after the recent news that Florida developer Patrick Zalupski has agreed to pay $1.7 billion for the team.

Zalupski’s team of investors reportedly prefers to keep the Rays near Tampa. If that becomes gospel, MLB can turn its attention to choosing where new teams would call home.

And soon afterward, if Manfred’s vision comes to fruition, geographical realignment would follow, and the Southern California Freeway Series could become just another series between divisional rivals.

Her name was etched in the memory of millions thanks to her role as Gabrielle Solís in “Desperate Housewives,” a series that established Eva Longoria as one of the most influential Latina actresses in Hollywood.

She went on to become a producer, director, entrepreneur, activist and, in recent years, an investor in the world of sports, where she has earned the nickname “La Patrona” — or “The Boss” in English — which easily could be the title of a Mexican soap opera.

After more than two decades of credits and awards earned in the entertainment industry, Longoria has shifted her focus. Today, her role as “La Patrona” of Liga MX team Club Necaxa draws on her family’s roots, her passion for storytelling and her commitment to giving Mexico visibility in the world.

Her involvement was not limited to serving on Necaxa’s board of directors as a celebrity investor. From the beginning, she knew she wanted to tell a story. Inspired by Rob McElhenney and Ryan Reynolds’ “Welcome to Wrexham” docuseries, she decided to produce the the docuseries “Necaxa,” which premiered on Aug. 7 on FX. Cameras take viewers behind the scenes, follow along on road trips and offer an intimate look at the soccer team.

Rob McElhenney, left, and Eva Longoria stand on the field at Estadio Victoria, Liga MX team Club Necaxa’s home stadium.

(HANDOUT / FX)

Few could have imagined a Mexican American actress would become the leading front office voice for a historic Mexican soccer club, whose home stadium — Estadio Victoria — is located in the city of Aguascalientes in north-central Mexico.

In 2021, Longoria joined a group of investors who acquired 50% ownership of the team. McElhenney, the actor best known for the TV show “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” and Reynolds, who turned the mercenary Deadpool into one of the most beloved antiheroes in the Marvel universe, later joined the ownership group.

While restoring Necaxa to prominence in Liga MX was only a business and creative venture, it also had a deep personal component. Longoria grew up in Texas watching sports with her father, Enrique Longoria Jr.

“My dad can’t believe it. He doesn’t believe I’m ‘La Patrona,’” Longoria told L.A. Times en Español. “I’ll always be his little girl. … But I love sports because of my dad. My dad always watched the Dallas Cowboys, the Spurs, the Texas Rangers. … Every sport, I watched with him. I love sports because of the drama, the excitement, the ups and downs.”

In 2020, McElhenney and Reynolds acquired Wrexham AFC, a Welsh team that had been stuck in the National League — the fifth division of English soccer — since 2008. The team has steadily climbed the ranks to reach the Championship, just one step away from the top division, the Premier League.

Although promotion and relegation is no longer used in Liga MX, Longoria aspires to see Necaxa’s “Rayos” return to prominence in the Mexican soccer playoffs and is therefore seeking to mirror what her colleagues achieved with Wrexham AFC while flying the flag for her Mexican roots.

“This opportunity came from a group of investors who called me and asked if I wanted to be part of this project in the Mexican league. When they explained to me that the league has a huge audience, because there is so much beauty and talent coming out of Mexico, I decided to go for it,” said Longoria, who grew up in Corpus Christi, Texas, but now primarily splits her time between homes in Mexico and Spain. “I invested in the Necaxa team because I saw a great opportunity, not only as a business venture, but also as a great way to showcase Mexico and the most passionate sport in this beautiful country, to put Mexico on the map.

“When I have the opportunity to put Mexico or Mexicans on the map, I will always do so. Whether I’m producing or directing, that’s my philosophy in storytelling. That’s why I wanted to do this with the docuseries because I knew there was a story there that we had to tell.”

Eva Longoria is “La Patrona,” which translates to “The Boss,” in ‘Necaxa’ on FX.

(HANDOUT / FX)

Despite her ambition and determination, her first visit to Aguascalientes was fraught with uncertainty.

“I was very anxious and afraid because I am a woman, I am Mexican American,” she said. “I didn’t know if they would welcome me with open arms, but the truth is that they have welcomed me with open arms and I have been impressed by the local support.”

Although filming the docuseries is as important as any of her other projects, her work also involves finding the formula to return Necaxa to the prominence it had in the 1990s when it won its only three championships in the first division.

Her power as an international star has allowed her enter the locker room, which is considered a sacred space in the world of soccer.

After watching her confidently enter spaces around the club, the players dubbed her “La Patrona.”

“It’s a lot to manage a soccer club, behind the scenes, behind the docuseries,” Longoria said. “We’re so lucky to have access to the locker rooms, to go home with them. For me, it’s very important to have everything in one series, because I want the world to see it all. It’s not just about points and games; you’re talking about real lives.”

Longoria has also become a bridge between cultures and markets. As co-owner and original investor in Angel City FC in the National Women’s Soccer League, she recognizes the differences between soccer in the United States and Mexico. That experience, coupled with her connection to McElhenney and Reynolds, has shaped a broader vision.

“Here in Necaxa, there’s a saying: ‘If there’s no suffering, it’s not Necaxa.’ I’m explaining this saying to them, because the fans have embraced the idea that you have to suffer to win,” she said. “Rob and Ryan know a little bit about this, and we wanted to explore that idea in the series.”

Diego González, Necaxa’s head of media relations, said Longoria’s arrival marked a turning point for the club.

“It’s something unexpected, something surprising to have something like this with Necaxa and Aguascalientes,” he said of the docuseries. “It’s seeing inside Club Necaxa. Getting to know not only the player, but the people, the city … lots of emotions, lots of feelings that represent what soccer is and how it’s lived in Necaxa.”

Opening the doors to the cameras was not easy, according to González, but Longoria’s presence made it possible.

“It’s something that is highly respected, that intimacy of the locker rooms, the training camps, the trips. The players had to get used to it, but the professionalism of the club and the production team helped. You’ll notice it in the series: it feels so natural because that’s how it was,” said González, whom the players call “Sheldon” because of his resemblance to the character Sheldon Cooper from the sitcom “The Big Bang Theory.”

He describes Longoria’s relationship with the team as close and genuine.

“When she arrived in Aguascalientes, she showed herself as she is, even nervous, but without wanting to impose anything,” González said. “That naturalness helped the players feel comfortable. You don’t know how to treat a superstar, but she gives you the confidence to approach her and talk about anything.”

The influence of Longoria, McElhenney and Reynolds has gone beyond the locker room. They have put Necaxa on the international map.

“The most visible thing is the international showcase they can give you,” González said. “Necaxa was already known for its soccer merits, but now you have fans of Rob, Ryan, Eva, even Wrexham. A whole range of important possibilities has opened up for us, and that’s thanks to them.”

This article first appeared in Spanish via L.A. Times en Español.

California Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta said Wednesday he will ask a judge to allow the state to take control of L.A. County’s juvenile halls.

The move comes after years of failure to comply with court-ordered reforms that have been marked by riots, drug overdoses, allegations of child abuse and the death of a teenager.

In a statement, Bonta said he will ask a judge to place the county’s halls in “receivership,” meaning a court-appointed official would take over “management and operations of the juvenile halls” from the L.A. County Probation Department, including setting budgets and hiring and firing staff.

Bonta is expected to discuss the move at a news conference in downtown L.A. around 9:45 a.m. A probation department spokeswoman did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

The scandal-plagued halls have failed to see significant improvement under the probation department’s management. Two facilities were shut down in 2023 after repeatedly failing to meet basic standards to house youth under California law. That same year, 18-year-old Bryan Diaz died of a drug overdose at the Secure Youth Treatment Facility and reports of Xanax and opiate overdoses among youths in the halls have become a regular occurrence in recent months.

Nearly three dozen probation officers have been charged with crimes related to on-duty conduct in the past few years, including 30 indicted earlier this year by Bonta for staging or allowing so-called “gladiator fights” between juveniles in custody. Officers also routinely refuse to come to work, leaving each hall critically short-staffed.

“This drastic step to divest Los Angeles County of control over its juvenile halls is a last resort — and the only option left to ensure the safety and well-being of the youth currently in its care,” Bonta’s statement Wednesday said. “For four-and-a-half years, we’ve moved aggressively to bring the County into compliance with our judgment — and we’ve been met with glacial progress that has too often looked like one step forward and two steps back. Enough is enough. These young people deserve better, and my office will not stop until they get it.”

Bonta first suggested he might seek receivership in May, in response to questions for a Times investigation on the probation department’s years of defiance of state oversight.

The California attorney general’s office began investigating L.A. County’s juvenile halls in 2018 and found probation officers were using pepper spray excessively, failing to provide proper programming, and detaining youths in solitary confinement in their rooms for far too long. A 2021 court settlement between L.A. County and the state attorney general’s office was aimed at improving conditions for youth and tamping down on use of force.

But the situation has seemingly only gotten worse in the last four years. Incidents in which staff use force against youths have increased over the life of the settlement, records show. The L.A. County inspector general’s office has published six reports showing the department has failed to meet the terms of the state oversight agreement. Oversight officials have caught several probation officers lying about violent incidents in the halls after reviewing video footage that contradicted written reports.

After the state shut down the county’s other two major detention centers, Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall in Downey was reopened but quickly became a haven for chaos. In its first month of operation, there was a riot and an escape attempt and someone brought a gun inside the youth hall.

Late last year, California’s Board of State and Community Corrections ordered Los Padrinos closed too after it failed repeated inspections, but Probation Chief Guillermo Viera Rosa ignored the order, leading some to call on Bonta to intervene. Eventually, an L.A. County judge ordered the probation department to begin emptying Los Padrinos until it came back into compliance with state standards.

ATLANTA — Major League Baseball will not cancel its 2028 All-Star Game in order to participate in the Los Angeles Olympics, Commissioner Rob Manfred said Tuesday.

Manfred said representatives of the league and LA28 met Monday, with both sides hoping to work toward an agreement in which major leaguers would play in the Olympics. MLB has declined to stop its season for previous Olympic baseball tournaments, so minor leaguers and college players have participated in those Games.

But Manfred also warned that any agreement likely would apply only to the L.A. Games, where major leaguers could be done in a week. If baseball remains on the Olympic schedule for Brisbane in 2032, MLB would remain reluctant to shut down for the extended period needed to get players to Australia, allow them to prepare and play, and then return to their major league teams.

“I think that the idea of playing in L.A. in ‘28, regardless of the possibility of ongoing Olympic participation in another location, that there is some merit to it,” Manfred said at a meeting of the Baseball Writers Assn. of America.

“I think it is an opportunity to market the game on a really global stage. I think, obviously, because it is in the U.S., the logistics of it are easier.”

On Monday, LA28 announced that baseball would be played July 15-20, 2028, intended as an inducement for MLB to minimize schedule disruption by skipping the All-Star Game for that year and switching to the Olympics in the same week.

Manfred indicated the league’s preference would be to play the All-Star Game in its usual window, then compete in the Olympics and resume the regular season.

“It’s doable,” Manfred said. “They put out a schedule. They tell you it’s not going to move. We’ll see whether there is any movement on that.

“It is possible to play the All-Star Game in its normal spot, have a single break that would be longer, but still play 162 games without bleeding into the middle of November. It would require significant accommodations, but it is possible.”

“Who can turn the world on with her smile?” It’s Mary Tyler Moore, of course, and you should know it.

To be precise, it’s Mary Richards, a person Moore played. But the smile was her own, and it worked magic across two situation comedies that described their time in a way that some might have regarded as ahead of their time. Although Moore proved herself as an actress of depth and range and peerless comic timing again and again, on the small and big screen and onstage, “The Dick Van Dyke Show” and “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” made her a star, and incidentally a cultural figurehead, and are the reason we have a splendid new documentary, “Being Mary Tyler Moore,” premiering Friday on HBO. Were it titled simply “Being Mary,” there’d be little doubt who was meant.

Moore was driven to perform from an early age, which she relates to wanting to impress her father — though that seems too simple. She trained as a dancer, and right out of high school played a pixie, Happy Hotpoint, in a series of appliance commercials. (A visible pregnancy ended that job.) She played a faceless switchboard operator on “Richard Diamond, Private Detective,” from which she was bounced when she asked for more money, and a typical assortment of starlet roles in television and movies. A failed audition to play the older daughter on “The Danny Thomas Show” led to her being called for “Van Dyke,” of which Thomas was an executive producer. Creator Carl Reiner remembers, “I read about 60 girls, and I read the whole script with them. She read three lines, three simple lines. There was such a ping in it, an excitement, a reality to it.” They soon discovered her gift for comedy.

“The Dick Van Dyke Show,” in which Moore played Laura Petrie to Van Dyke’s Rob, came into the world in the first year of the Kennedy administration, and there is something of that new White House, torch-passed-to-a-new-generation spirit in the Petries’ New Rochelle, N.Y., home. (Van Dyke was 35 when the show premiered — just old enough to be president himself — to Moore’s 24, but the two never seemed generationally distinct.) They were modern, with modern tastes. This was not the old-fashioned, small-town family comedy of “Father Knows Best” or “Leave It to Beaver.” If you lived in my household, you might have felt right at home with them.

Then again, “Dick Van Dyke” was not really a family comedy; some episodes might involve their son, Richie (Larry Mathews), but many more would not, and when child-rearing was the subject, it would more likely highlight the foolishness of the parents. The Petries were suburban in the sense of being connected to, not remote from, the city — sophisticated, fun, elegant. They threw parties, went out in formal wear, tried the latest dances. They were sexual. And they held the stage with equal strength and force.

If they were well on the safe side of bohemian, they were arty in their way, Rob a comedy writer, Laura, like Moore, a dancer — a former dancer in the show, which was not so ahead of its time to imagine a working mother. Still, the series found opportunities to let her dance. (“I will go to my grave thinking of myself as a failed dancer, not a successful actor,” Moore says in the documentary.)

Famously — and at once realistically and, for TV at that time, radically — she wore pants, tight ones; Moore is nearly synonymous with Capris. I turned on a random episode the other night (Season 4, Episode 1, “My Mother Can Beat Up My Father”), one I’d somehow never seen, in which a drunk at a restaurant bar begins to harass Laura. Rob tries to get him to back off, claiming he knows karate, and gets a punch in the nose — at which Laura, to her own surprise, flips the drunk with a judo move. (She’d learned self-defense when she was entertaining at Army bases.)

It winds up in a society column. Laura finds it funny. Rob, whose ego is as bruised as his proboscis, childishly lashes out.

Rob: “How come you never dress like a girl?”

Laura, incredulous: “What?

“Well, honey, I mean, shirts and slacks, shirts and slacks, that’s all I ever see when I come home.”

“You love me in shirts and slacks.”

“Yeah, well, but whatever happened to dresses?”

“Rob, you know, this is the stupidest conversation we’ve ever had.”

Mary Tyler Moore with Dr. Robert Levine, to whom she was married from 1983 until her death in 2017. Levine is an executive producer on “Being Mary Tyler Moore.”

(From Robert Levine / HBO)

“Dick Van Dyke” stories were divided equally between home and work, with the two worlds frequently intersecting. “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” took that model and put Moore in the center of the action, amid a brilliant comic cast. Her move to Minneapolis, which begins the series and lands her in the newsroom at WJM, was not born from tragedy or pressure; she moves on her own initiative, recovering from nothing but the possibility of a life that won’t suit her.

That Mary was a single woman in no rush to be married was something new for television — but it could hardly be said that she lived alone; her apartment was subject to regular incursions from Rhoda (Valerie Harper) and Phyllis (Cloris Leachman), a company of women hashing out their different lives in a sort of dialectical comedy. (There were women in the writing room; Treva Silverman, whose comments are featured prominently in “Being Mary Tyler Moore,” was the first woman to win an Emmy with a solo credit.)

Whether this was or was not a feminist series is a question that still prompts think pieces. Gloria Steinem thought not, and Moore did not identify herself as such — though in the opening scene of the documentary, in a 1966 interview with a backward David Susskind, she does say, “I agree with Betty Friedan and her point of view in her book ‘Feminine Mystique’ that women are, or should be, human beings first, women second, wives and mothers third.”

Unlike the Norman Lear comedies — “All in the Family,” also on CBS, premiered a few months after “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” — the MTM-produced comedies, which also included the “Moore” spinoffs “Rhoda” and “Phyllis,” were contemporary and “adult” without being issue-oriented. But because they were realistic about their characters, they couldn’t help but engage with their times and the culture. If the feminism of “Mary Tyler Moore,” which is in a sense just a function of its intelligence, is not explicit, it is in the bones of the show. And Mary, like the woman who played her, “inspired as many women as Eleanor Roosevelt,” in the words of series co-creator James L. Brooks.

If Moore never repeated the massive television success of her first two series, well, that would have been practically impossible. Some failed later shows, including the sitcom “Mary,” which found her working at a Chicago tabloid, and “The Mary Tyler Moore Hour,” which blended variety with a backstage sitcom, go unmentioned in the documentary, but are not without interest and may be found floating in cyberspace. Various dramatic roles, onscreen and onstage, demonstrated the subtlety and depth of her acting, though you could find that in most any episode of “Mary Tyler Moore” as well.

Her last great triumph — though not at all the end of her career — was her Oscar-nominated turn in Robert Redford’s “Ordinary People,” whose cold mother is deemed closer to her own character; she had a reputation, she says, for being “an ice princess.” Redford decided to cast her having once seen her walking on the beach, looking sad. (“He saw my dark side.”)

It is the point of nearly any show business biography that the person we know from their work is and is not the person who lived the life. Indeed, the very title “Being Mary Tyler Moore” suggests that “Mary Tyler Moore” was both a part she played and a person she was, similar in some respects and markedly different in others. Directed by James Adolphus, with Moore’s widower, Dr. Robert Levine, on board as an executive producer, the film has access to a wealth of family photos and home movies — including footage of her bridal shower, featuring a hilarious Betty White — and does a fine job of illuminating the private Moore, with testimony from (unseen) colleagues, friends and family.

It’s no secret that her life was marked by tragedy. (She was a private person, but she wrote books. And some things you can’t keep out of the papers.) She had a drinking problem. Her sister died from an overdose of alcohol and painkillers. Her son, Richard, accidentally shot himself. Diabetes led to numerous problems with her health. But “Being Mary Tyler Moore” is a happier story than one might expect, which in itself makes it a moving one. Moore and Levine were married from 1983 to her death in 2017, and they settled into a life filled with dogs and horses; there were good works too, on behalf of juvenile diabetes.

We can too easily measure the worth of a performer’s life by their professional success, as if there’s nothing more terrible than a canceled sitcom, a box office flop or the lack of good roles all but a few actors eventually face. “Being Mary Tyler Moore” reminds us not to make that mistake.

Joypurhat/Dhaka, Bangladesh, and New Delhi/Kolkata, India – Under the mild afternoon sun, 45-year-old Safiruddin sits outside his incomplete brick-walled house in Baiguni village of Kalai Upazila in Bangladesh, nursing a dull ache in his side.

In the summer of 2024, he sold his kidney in India for 3.5 lakh taka ($2,900), hoping to lift his family out of poverty and build a house for his three children – two daughters, aged five and seven, and an older 10-year-old son. That money is long gone, the house remains unfinished, and the pain in his body is a constant reminder of the price he paid.

He now toils as a daily labourer in a cold storage facility, as his health deteriorates – the constant pain and fatigue make it hard for him to carry out even routine tasks.

“I gave my kidney so my family could have a better life. I did everything for my wife and children,” he said.

At the time, it didn’t seem like a dangerous choice. The brokers who approached him made it sound simple – an opportunity rather than a risk. He was sceptical initially, but desperation eventually won over his doubts.

The brokers took him to India on a medical visa, with all arrangements – flights, documents, and hospital formalities – handled entirely by them. Once in India, although he travelled on his original Bangladeshi passport, other documents, such as certificates falsely showing a familial relationship with the intended recipient of his kidney, were forged.

His identity was altered, and his kidney was transplanted into an unknown recipient whom he had never met. “I don’t know who got my kidney. They [the brokers] didn’t tell me anything,” Safiruddin said.

By law, organ donations in India are only permitted between close relatives or with special government approval, but traffickers manipulate everything – family trees, hospital records, even DNA tests – to bypass regulations.

“Typically, the seller’s name is changed, and a notary certificate – stamped by a lawyer – is produced to falsely establish a familial relationship with the recipient. Forged national IDs support the claim, making it appear as though the donor is a relative, such as a sister, daughter, or another family member, donating an organ out of compassion,” said Monir Moniruzzaman, a Michigan State University professor and a member of the World Health Organization’s Task Force on Organ Transplantation, who is researching organ trafficking in South Asia.

Safiruddin’s story isn’t unique. Kidney donations are so common in his village of Baiguni, that locals know the community of less than 6,000 people as the “village of one kidney”. The Kalai Upazila region that Baiguni belongs to is the hotspot for the kidney trade industry: A 2023 study published in the British Medical Journal Global Health publication estimated one in 35 adults in the region has sold a kidney.

Kalai Upazila is one of Bangladesh’s poorest regions. Most donors are men in their early 30s lured by the promise of quick money. According to the study, 83 percent of those surveyed cited poverty as the main reason for selling a kidney, while others pointed to loan repayments, drug addiction or gambling.

Safiruddin said that the brokers – who had taken his passport – never returned it. He didn’t even get the medicines he had been prescribed after the surgery. “They [the brokers] took everything.”

Brokers often confiscate passports and medical prescriptions after the surgery, erasing any trail of the transplant and leaving donors without proof of the procedure or access to follow-up care.

The kidneys are sold to wealthy recipients in Bangladesh or India, many of whom seek to bypass long wait times and the strict regulations of legal transplants. In India, for example, only about 13,600 kidney transplants were performed in 2023 – compared with an estimated 200,000 patients who develop end-stage kidney disease annually.

Al Jazeera spoke with more than a dozen kidney donors in Bangladesh, all of whom shared similar stories of being driven to sell their kidneys due to financial hardship. The trade is driven by a simple yet brutal equation: Poverty creates the supply, while long wait times, a massive shortage of legal donors, the willingness of wealthy patients to pay for quick transplants and a weak enforcement system ensure that the demand never ceases.

The cost of desperation

Josna Begum, 45, a widow from Binai village in Kalai Upazila, was struggling to raise her two daughters, 18 and 20 years old, after her husband died in 2012. She moved to Dhaka to work in a garment factory, where she met and married another man named Belal.

After their marriage, both Belal and Josna were lured by a broker into selling their kidneys in India in 2019.

“It was a mistake,” Josna said. She explained that the brokers first promised her five lakh taka (about $4,100), then raised the offer to seven lakh (around $5,700) to convince her. “But after the operation, all I got was three lakh [$2,500].”

Josna said she and Belal were taken to Rabindranath Tagore International Institute of Cardiac Sciences in Kolkata, the capital of India’s West Bengal state, where they underwent surgery. “We were taken by a bus through the Benapole border into India, where we were housed in a rented apartment near the hospital.”

To secure the transplant, the brokers fabricated documents claiming that she and the recipient were blood relatives. Like Safiruddin, she doesn’t know who received her kidney.

Despite repeated attempts, officials at Rabindranath Tagore International Institute of Cardiac Sciences have not responded to Al Jazeera’s request to comment on the case. Kolkata police have previously accused other brokers of facilitating illegal kidney transplants at the same hospital in 2017.

Josna said her passport and identification documents were handled entirely by the brokers. “I was OK with them taking away the prescriptions. But I asked for my passport. They never gave it back,” she said.

She stayed in India for nearly two months before returning to Bangladesh – escorted by the brokers who had her passport, and still held out the promise of paying her what they had committed to.

The brokers had also promised support for her family and even jobs for her children, but after the initial payment and a few token payments on Eid, they cut off contact.

Soon after he was paid – also three lakh taka ($2,500) – for his transplant, Belal abandoned Josna, later marrying another woman. “My life was ruined,” she said.

Josna now suffers from chronic pain and struggles to afford medicines. “I can’t do any heavy work,” she said. “I have to survive, but I need medicine all the time.”

‘In front of this gang’s gun’

In some cases, victims have become perpetrators of the kidney scam, too.

Mohammad Sajal (name changed), was once a businessman in Dhaka selling household items like pressure cookers, plastic containers and blenders through Evaly, a flashy e-commerce platform that promised big returns. But when Evaly collapsed following a 2021 scam, so did his savings – and his livelihood.

Drowning in debt and under immense pressure to repay what he owed, he sold his kidney in 2022 at Venkateshwar Hospital in Delhi. But the promised 10 lakh taka ($8,200) never materialised. He received only 3.5 lakh taka ($2,900).

“They [the brokers] cheated me,” Sajal said. Venkateshwar Hospital has not responded to repeated requests from Al Jazeera for comment on the case.

There was only one way he could earn what he had thought he would get for his kidney, Sajal concluded at the time: by joining the brokers to dupe others. For months, he worked as a broker, arranging kidney transplants for several Bangladeshi donors in Indian hospitals. But after a financial dispute with his handlers, he left the trade, fearing for his life.

“I am now in front of this gang’s gun,” he said. The network he left behind operates with impunity, he said, stretching from Bangladeshi hospitals to the Indian medical system. “Everyone from the doctors to recipients to the brokers on both sides of borders are involved,” he said.

Now, Sajal works as a ride-share driver in Dhaka, trying to escape the past. But the scars, both physical and emotional, remain. “No one willingly gives a kidney out of hobby or desire,” he said. “It is a simple calculation: desperation leads to this.”

Acknowledging the cross-border kidney trafficking trade, Bangladesh police say they are cracking down on those involved. Assistant Inspector General Enamul Haque Sagor of Bangladesh Police said that, in addition to uniformed officers, undercover investigators have been deployed to track organ trafficking networks and gather intelligence.

“This issue is under our watch, and we are taking action as required,” he said.

Sagor said that police have arrested multiple individuals linked to organ trafficking syndicates, including brokers. “Many people get drawn into kidney sales through these networks, and we are working to catch them,” he added.

Across the border, Indian law enforcement agencies, too, have cracked down on some medical professionals accused of involvement in kidney trafficking. In July 2024, the Delhi Police arrested Dr Vijaya Rajakumari, a 50-year-old kidney transplant surgeon associated with a Delhi hospital. Investigations revealed that between 2021 and 2023, Dr Rajakumari performed approximately 15 transplant surgeries on Bangladeshi patients at a private hospital, Indian officials said.

But experts say that these arrests are too sporadic to seriously dent the business model that underpins the kidney trade.

And experts say Indian authorities face competing pressures – upholding the law, but also promoting medical tourism, a sector that was worth $7.6bn in 2024. “Instead of enforcing ethical standards, the focus is on the economic advantages of the industry, allowing illegal transplants to continue,” said Moniruzzaman.

‘More transplants mean more revenue’

In India, the Transplantation of Human Organs Act (THOA) of 1994 regulates organ donations, permitting kidney transplants primarily between close relatives such as parents, siblings, children and spouses to prevent commercial exploitation. When the donor is not a near relative, the case must receive approval from a government-appointed body known as an authorisation committee to ensure the donation is altruistic and not financially motivated.

However, brokers involved in kidney trafficking circumvent these regulations by forging documents to establish fictitious familial relationships between donors and recipients. These fraudulent documents are then submitted to authorisation committees, which – far too often, say experts – approve the transplants.

Experts say the foundation of this illicit system lies in the ease with which brokers manipulate legal loopholes. “They fabricate national IDs and notary certificates to create fictitious family ties between donors and recipients. These papers can be made quickly and cheaply,” said Moniruzzaman.

With these falsified identities, transplants are performed under the pretence of legal donations between relatives.

In Dhaka, Shah Muhammad Tanvir Monsur, director general (consular) at Bangladesh’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, said that the country’s government officials had no role in the document fraud, and that they “duly followed” all legal procedures. He also denied any exchange of information between India and Bangladesh on cracking down on cross-border kidney trafficking.

Over in India, Amit Goel, deputy commissioner of police in Delhi, who has investigated several cases of kidney trafficking in the city, including that of Rajakumari, the doctor, said that hospital authorities often struggle to detect forged documents, allowing illegal transplants to proceed.

“In the cases I investigated, I found that the authorisation board approved those cases because they couldn’t identify the fake documents,” he said.

But Moniruzzaman pointed out that Indian hospitals also have a financial incentive to overlook discrepancies in documents.

“Hospitals turn a blind eye because organ donation [in general] is legal,” Moniruzzaman said. “More transplants mean more revenue. Even when cases of fraud surface, hospitals deny responsibility, insisting that documentation appears legitimate. This pattern allows the trade to continue unchecked,” he added.

Mizanur Rahman, a broker who operates across multiple districts in Bangladesh, said that traffickers often target individual doctors or members of hospital review committees, offering bribes to facilitate these transplants.​ “Usually, brokers in Bangladesh are in touch with their counterparts in India who set up these doctors for them,” Rahman told Al Jazeera. “These doctors often take a major chunk of the money involved.”

Dr Anil Kumar, director of the National Organ and Tissue Transplant Organisation (NOTTO) – India’s central body overseeing organ donation and transplant coordination – declined to comment on allegations of systemic discrepancies that have enabled rising cases of organ trafficking.

However, a former top official from NOTTO pointed out that hospitals often are up against not just brokers and seemingly willing donors with what appear to be legitimate documents, but also wealthier recipients. “If the hospital board is not convinced, recipients often take the matter to higher authorities or challenge the decision in court. So they [hospitals] also want to avoid legal hassles and proceed with transplants,” this official said, speaking on condition of anonymity.

Meanwhile, organ trafficking networks continue to adapt their strategies. When police or official scrutiny increases in one location, the trade simply moves elsewhere. “There is no single fixed hospital; the locations keep changing,” Moniruzzaman said. “When police conduct a raid, the hospital stops performing transplants.

“Brokers and their network – Bangladeshi and Indian brokers working together – coordinate to select new hospitals at different times.”

Porous borders and the fallout

For brokers and hospitals that are involved, there is big money at stake. Recipients often pay between $22,000 and $26,000 for a kidney.

But donors get only a tiny fraction of this money. “The donors get three to five lakh taka [$2,500 to $4,000] usually,” said Mizanur Rahman, the broker. “The rest of the money is shared with brokers, officials who forge documents, and doctors if they are involved. Some money is also spent on donors while they live in India.”

In some cases, the deception runs even deeper: traffickers lure Bangladeshi nationals with promises of well-paying jobs in India, only to coerce them into kidney donations.

Victims, often desperate for work, are taken to hospitals under false pretences, where they undergo surgery without fully understanding the consequences. In September last year, for instance, a network of traffickers in India held many Bangladeshi job seekers captive, either forced or deceived them into organ transplants, and abandoned them with minimal compensation. Last year, police in Bangladesh arrested three traffickers in Dhaka who smuggled at least 10 people to New Delhi under the guise of employment, only to have them forced into kidney transplants.

“Some people knowingly sell their kidneys due to extreme poverty, but a significant number are deceived,” said Shariful Hasan, associate director of the Migration Programme at BRAC, formerly the Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee, one of the world’s largest nongovernmental development organisations. “A rich patient in India needs a kidney, a middleman either finds a poor Bangladeshi donor or lures someone in the name of employment, and the cycle continues.”

Vasundhara Raghavan, CEO of the Kidney Warriors Foundation, a support group in India for patients with kidney diseases, said that a shortage of legal donors was a “major challenge” that drove the demand for trafficked organs.

“Desperate patients turn to illicit means, fuelling a system that preys on the poor.”

She acknowledged that India’s legal framework was aimed at preventing organ transplants from turning into an exploitative industry. But in reality, she said, the law had only pushed organ trade underground.

“If organ trade cannot be entirely eliminated, a more systematic and regulated approach should be considered. This could involve ensuring that donors undergo mandatory health screenings, receive postoperative medical support for a fixed period, and are provided with financial security for their future wellbeing,” Raghavan said.

Back in Kalai Upazila, Safiruddin nowadays spends most of his time at home, his movements slower, his strength visibly diminished. “I am not able to work properly,” he said.

He says there are nights when he lies awake, thinking of the promises the brokers made, and the dreams they shattered. He doesn’t know when, and if, he will be able to complete the construction of his house. He thought the surgery would bring his family a pot of cash to build a future. Instead, his children have been left with an ailing father – and he with a sense of betrayal that Safiruddin can’t shake off. “They took my kidney and vanished,” he said.

Reporting for this story was supported by a grant from Journalists for Transparency.

Middlesbrough have appointed ex-Luton Town manager Rob Edwards as their new head coach.

Edwards, 42, moves to the Riverside Stadium on a three-year deal as the replacement for Michael Carrick, who was dismissed earlier this month.

He led Luton to the Premier League in 2023 but could not avoid relegation from the top flight 12 months later and was then dismissed by the Hatters in January when they were 20th in the Championship.

His job is now to improve a Boro team who ended last season in 10th place, four points outside the play-off spots.

“It’s a real privilege to be given the opportunity to be head coach of this great football club,” Edwards told the club website., external

“It’s something that’s not lost on me, how big this is, how important this is, and what it means to people. There is an amazing fanbase.”

A record 1.26m television audience for Bath’s victory, combined with demand outstripping supply for the 82,000 tickets, suggests the Premiership is nurturing new fans.

There has been big growth in engaging supporters between the ages of 18-34, while Red Bull’s reported interest in buying Newcastle Falcons would tie in perfectly with a parallel aim of attracting youth-orientated brands.

It is a brief Calder has worked to before.

Before he arrived in rugby, he was the commercial director for the Hundred, the neon-spattered, slog-heavy cricket format that launched in 2021 and raised more than £500m with the sale of its franchise sides earlier this year.

That was revolution. In rugby, Calder is aiming for evolution.

“With the Hundred, we were clear that a distinctly new approach was going to be critical to get to the next generation,” he says.

“When I did research on the Hundred though I looked at rugby clubs and how they compared in terms of appeal to younger audiences and they actually performed pretty well.

“There are some strong brands in there – be it Harlequins or Leicester Tigers or others – with legacy and awareness of those identities.

“So I think we’re starting from a different level with rugby.”

The rebrand will include more behind-the-scenes content from the league’s bright, young things and more intelligent highlights, with dramatic moments, such as shuddering hits, try-saving tackles and interactions between players, included alongside the scores.

Some of the strategy is more mundane than the marketing, but just as important.

“The first time people come to rugby grounds, we have got to make them welcome,” says Calder.

“We’ve got to point out where everything is, to make sure there’s enough toilets for women, that the facilities are clean and the rest of it.

“Rugby is probably a little bit behind where some sports are, but that’s a massive focus for us.

“We’ve invested in gathering match day experience scores from fans and match day experience training with the clubs.”

Baxter has taken a more hands-on role coaching the side since long-serving assistants Rob Hunter and Ali Hepher were dismissed after the defeat at Gloucester.

That loss was the nadir of a season which saw Exeter lose all four of their European games and win just four league matches – two of them against Saracens and Northampton who were without many of their international stars.

But in recent weeks Exeter have improved and had chances to win the game, against a Sale side who knew victory would secure a fourth play-off campaign in the past five seasons.

“A lot of teams need a dedicated start point – that Gloucester game was a dedicated start point for us,” Baxter added.

“No player can come into my office when I’m talking to them and go ‘everything was fine, I don’t know why we’re reacting’.

“You need that sometimes, you don’t need anybody having any second doubts that what’s on the field isn’t good enough.

“We had that and now things are changing, and you can feel a change. But I think we probably needed that and we needed someone to go ‘this is not good enough, things have to change’ and that’s what’s happened.”