saturday morning

Lauren Perlmutter is a “Gilmore Girls” superfan. She’s watched the show on a loop for the past 10 years. It’s mostly been in chronological order, and sometimes just in the background while she’s working on something else but craving the show’s comforting familiarity.

“It’s like my bowl of chicken noodle soup,” she said.

Perlmutter, 23, like many fans of the beloved series, was born after it first debuted Oct. 5, 2000 on the WB. Her mom, Joelle, had caught “Gilmore Girls” every now and then when it was airing, and she introduced it to her daughter years later, watching it more intently with her new viewing partner.

The series, which starred Lauren Graham as Lorelai Gilmore, a young single mom, and Alexis Bledel as her teen daughter Rory, is beloved for its witty writing and the small-town charm of its fictional setting, Stars Hollow, Conn.

Fans walk through a recreated gazebo like the one in the fictional town of Stars Hollow. “Gilmore Girls” is set in Connecticut, but much of the filming took place on a backlot at Warner Bros. Studios in Burbank.

(Etienne Laurent/For The Times)

Like the Gilmores, the Perlmutters established a Friday night tradition, except instead of a tense (mandatory) dinner with three generations, the pair would churn through episodes of the show and enjoy spending quality time together.

Lauren said she saw herself in the bookish Rory.

“I was so academically oriented. I strived really hard, and I was valedictorian at UCLA, and [my mom] was there in the audience and we made the same faces they did during Rory’s graduation, and I had a speech very similar to Rory’s,” she said. “Being able to have this background story of two women being raised, and then translated over into my life with my mom was just so special.”

Although their busy schedules make it hard to maintain their tradition weekly — Lauren is in graduate school at Pepperdine training to be a therapist (although she once considered pursuing journalism like Rory) — the Perlmutters still get an occasional Friday night viewing party in.

In celebration of the show’s 25th anniversary, Warner Bros. Television Group hosted an immersive pop-up event at the Grove that promised to give fans “a weekend in Stars Hollow” with set recreations and fall decor abound. The Perlmutters were first in line on Saturday morning, even with their drive from the San Fernando Valley.

Despite a prominently displayed “no cell phones” sign like the one from Luke’s Diner, fans couldn’t help but take selfies and videos of the set recreations. The Stars Hollow gazebo, the famous town sign, a replica of Lorelai’s beloved Jeep Wrangler and a display of 1,000 daisies from a romantic proposal scene in the first season were popular photo spots, and visitors cycled through Luke’s to grab coffee and donuts. And plenty of themed merchandise — ranging from the typical stickers, hats and mugs to ultra-specific items like bath salts with branding from Lorelai’s inn — was available for purchase.

While the fanbase is largely made up of women, some men enjoy the show as well. As one husband and father who attended the event with his more enthusiastic wife and daughters put it, “every man had a crush on Lorelai.”

Several hundreds of fans cycled through the Grove to celebrate the show’s anniversary.

(Etienne Laurent/For The Times)

“Gilmore Girls” also starred Melissa McCarthy as Sookie St. James, Lorelai’s longtime friend and chef at the inn she runs; Scott Patterson as the curmudgeonly but lovable eponymous diner owner Luke Danes; Kelly Bishop and Edward Herrmann as Emily and Richard Gilmore, Lorelai’s (very traditional) parents; and Keiko Agena as Lane Kim, Rory’s rock music-loving best friend. It was created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, who went on to make the hit series “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” and several other major projects.

During its original run from 2000 to 2007, the series was popular among viewers but not so much among critics. The show was nominated for only a single Emmy in its seven year run — one for makeup, which it won.

Serri Ferrante and Winona Parks, longtime friends who both work in television, said they suspect the lack of critical acclaim the series got could be attributed to the small size of the WB network, where it aired, and the likelihood that its budget for awards campaigns was small.

“I always voted for it,” Ferrante said, “but it was like a throwaway vote.”

Still, as the scores of young fans at Saturday’s celebration at the Grove prove, “Gilmore Girls” found a bountiful second life through streaming services.

Brittania Chacon, a 22-year-old from Mid-City, said she discovered the series when it kept popping up on her TikTok feed a year ago. It was autumn, which she says is the perfect time to watch — and many fans agree. (The show gets a seasonal boost in streaming ratings every year, according to Nielsen.)

The young crop of fans makes Ferrante “feel old,” she said, “but then it makes me feel connected to another generation.”

While most fans said they return to the show repeatedly either because of its relatable plotlines, sharp writing or the friendly comfort of their favorite characters, for some, it also acts as a primer for difficult conversations between mothers and daughters.

“It helped me talk to her about things that are not easy to talk about — dating, relationships, growing up,” Susie Park of Glendale said. Her 13-year-old daughter Ella, who started and finished the show over the course of the summer, confidently established herself as a member of “Team Jess,” referencing fans’ different camps of support for Rory’s boyfriends throughout the show.

“I think it’s amazing that it’s intergenerational and that I can actually show my daughter and that it resonates with her. She’s at an age where she’s supposed to be taking sex education classes and it wasn’t very helpful, but this was a lot more helpful,” Susie said as Ella burst out laughing.

Emily Gilmore (Kelly Bishop), left, Lorelai Gilmore (Lauren Graham), Rory Gilmore (Alexis Bledel) and Richard Gilmore (Edward Herrmann) in a scene from “Gilmore Girls.”

(Mitchell Haddad / The WB)

Regardless of which team fans are on regarding Rory’s boyfriends or which of the memorable recurring characters is their favorite, most can agree that they want to see more of the Gilmores and Stars Hollow.

In 2016, many original cast members and creatives reunited to make a revival miniseries, “Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life.” The Netflix series had four episodes representing the four seasons to continue the Gilmore family’s story several years later. While it was hotly anticipated, it was not particularly well received by critics and fans alike because some felt the characters seemed to stray from their core attributes and values that made them so loveable.

So more than two decades after the start of the story, many fans are clamoring for another slice of Stars Hollow life. Graham, who reunited with Bledel onstage at the Emmy Awards last month, said on the red carpet that she’d like the idea of a “Gilmore Girls” Christmas movie.

Regardless of whether the story continues in some shape or form, “Gilmore Girls” is regarded as one of the best series of all time and Lorelai and Rory will continue to fuel conversations between mothers and daughters for generations to come.

Eleni Zumot, who attended Saturday’s event with her sister, her mother and her 9-month-old daughter Amelia (sporting a pink Luke’s Diner t-shirt), said she hopes to re-watch the show with her daughter when the time is right.

“I think she’ll love it.”

“Welcome home.”

A Long Beach Poly assistant football coach offered a warm greeting to Mater Dei football coach Raul Lara on Saturday morning before the start of a summer passing tournament at Poly.

Lara, a Poly graduate who won five Southern Section championships in 13 seasons as the Jackrabbits’ head coach, was struck by some of the changes he saw, such as an all-weather sports field and bungalows on the old baseball field. The school has begun a $450-million construction project.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Lara said. “They’re doing a lot of reconstruction. It’s pretty neat. It will be interesting when it’s completed. We didn’t have this. We had a dirt track, regular grass field. We used to have a pole by those two trash cans and we had a coach, Don Norford, that every time he yelled, ‘Hit the pole,’ everybody knew they were in trouble.”

Lara won a Southern Section Division 1 title and state championship last season in his first year at Mater Dei, and his team is a heavy favorite to repeat thanks to strong offensive and defensive lines as well as a receiving group that includes receiver Chris Henry Jr., who has commited to Ohio State, and tight end Mark Bowman, who has committed to USC.

“That group is special,” he said of his receiver group that includes Ohio State commit Kayden Dixon-Wyatt, Georgia commit Gavin Honore and senior Koen Parnell.

Still to be decided is who starts at quarterback, with Wisconsin commit Ryan Hopkins competing with Minnesota commit Furian Inferrera. Asked if he could end up playing both, Lara said it was possible.

Asked if he was still having fun, Lara said, “It’s a different kind of fun. It’s more of a CEO fun. I have an awesome staff. All I do is make sure it’s functioning. They do a fantastic job.”

Saturday’s competition featured a rarity in that three outstanding tight ends were in the spotlight — Bowman, a USC commit; Andre Nickerson of Inglewood, an Southern Methodist commit; Jaden Hernandez of Poly, a Colorado State commit. Defensive backs were pushing and shoving and the tight ends were having none of that.

Long Beach Poly tight end Jaden Hernandez makes a catch.

(Craig Weston)

Mayfair has two college-bound defensive backs in Chaz Gilbreath (UC Davis) and Miles Mitchell (Air Force). Mitchell has a 4.5 grade-point average.

Poly’s Donte Wright is a junior cornerback committed to Georgia with a big upside because he’s 6 feet 2 and still growing with track speed. The Jackrabbits made it to the final of their tournament before losing to Mater Dei.

Teams are winding down their summer seven-on-seven passing tournament schedules. Coaches are starting to pass out shoulder pads because official practice begins July 28.

Sen. Alex Padilla blasted the Trump administration Saturday, calling it “petty and unserious” after Vice President JD Vance referred to him as “Jose” during a news conference in Los Angeles the previous day.

“He knows my name,” Padilla said in an appearance on MSNBC on Saturday morning.

Vance visited Los Angeles on Friday for less than five hours after several weeks of federal immigration raids in the city and surrounding areas, sparking protests and backlash from state and local officials.

Padilla was thrown into the heated nationwide immigration debate when he was dragged to the ground by federal law enforcement officers and briefly detained when he attempted to ask U.S. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem a question during a news conference earlier this month.

Vance characterized the move by California’s first Latino senator as “political theater” in his remarks.

“I was hoping Jose Padilla would be here to ask a question, but unfortunately I guess he decided not to show up because there wasn’t a theater, and that’s all it is,” Vance said.

Vance served alongside Padilla in the Senate and is now the president of the upper chamber of Congress. Vance’s press secretary, Taylor Van Kirk, told Politico that the vice president misspoke and “must have mixed up two people who have broken the law.”

Padilla, in his TV interview, said he broke no laws.

He suggested the misnaming was intentional — and a reflection of the administration’s skewed priorities.

“He’s the vice president of the United States.” Padilla said. “You think he’d take the the situation in Los Angeles more seriously.”

Padilla said Vance might instead have taken the opportunity to talk to families or employers affected by raids carried out by Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

Other California Democrats rallied behind Padilla after the misnaming incident.

“Calling him ‘Jose Padilla’ is not an accident,” California Gov. Gavin Newsom said in a Friday post on the social media platform X.

Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass highlighted racial undertones in Vance’s comments.

“I guess he just looked like anybody to you, but he’s not just anybody to us,” she said during a press conference on Friday. “He is our senator.”

Chad Rivera gingerly makes his way to the edge of what looks like an emptied out swimming pool, a lime-green skateboard in one hand, a white cane in the other. At 58, he’s legally blind, but he’s been skateboarding since he was 5, so what’s about to happen is part muscle memory, part “trust fall.”

Deathracer Chad Rivera is 58 and blind, but says he’ll never give up skateboarding.

Dozens of other skateboarders — mostly men in their 50s and 60s decked out in skating gear — roll along the periphery, watching on, at Encinitas Skate Park near San Diego. It’s not yet 11 a.m., but punk music blasts from the speakers, punctuated by the rumbling and clanking of skateboard wheels on concrete.

Standing at the deep end, Rivera considers the pool bowl’s nine-foot concrete walls. He sets down his white cane and secures the tail of his board on the pool’s rim with one foot, the rest of the board hanging in the air, like a mini diving board. He then steps onto the front of the board with his other foot and throws his body weight forward, “dropping in.”

He races down and around the sides of the walls before flipping around and landing back up on the pool deck.

It’s a frightening move to watch, but Rivera now beams, triumphant, eyes shining.

“Woo! Feel it and kill it,” says Rivera, a retired grape grower who’s suffered from a rare optic nerve disease since he was 22. “It always feels good, so I keep doing it. I’ll never stop, no matter how old I get.”

Rivera is a member of Deathracer413, a group of older skateboarders who believe that skateboarding is their key to longevity. They grew up amid the ’70s and ’80s skate scene and are as passionate about the sport as when they were teens. Many of them are now retired and the joy they get from skateboarding, the sense of community and the health benefits, such as core strength and balance, keep them young, they say. The inherent danger gives them an adrenaline rush that, they argue, keeps their brains sharp.

“Our slogan is: Keep dropping in or you’ll be dropping out,” says the group’s founder, Doug Marker, a former professional skateboarder and retired construction worker who’s lived in San Diego his entire life. Marker, who also surfs, plays guitar and rides motorcycles, is 63 going on 16, with silver hair and a skate-park suntan. On this Saturday morning, he’s wearing baggy shorts, Vans sneakers and a graphic T-shirt featuring “Death Racer” in heavy metal band-like typography.

“Knowing you can get hurt keeps you ultra-focused,” Marker says. “And trusting that you can do it — believing in yourself — is hugely empowering. I keep dropping in, I keep going. It’s put me into a bubble where I never feel like I’m getting older.”

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Marker founded Deathracer413 in 2011 to draw like-minded people who are “living life to the fullest,” he says. The name Deathracer reminded him of a motorcycle club and 413 are his initials, numerically. It was just a loose social affiliation at first, but in 2020 Marker launched the Deathracer413 Road Show, an invitation to join him in skating a different skate park every Saturday.

Deathracer413 now includes former and current pro skateboarders doing tricks alongside average enthusiasts and late-life skating newbies. There are a handful of women in the group as well as a few children honing their skills with the masters.

Marker estimates there are about 1,300 members of the group internationally, though typically only about 20-30 locals attend on any given Saturday. He welcomes anyone into the club and mails them a “welcome letter” and custom Deathracer413 patch that he designed. Hundreds of recipients remain members from afar, kindred spirits who share a “full throttle” outlook on life and participate via social media. Others have trekked from Australia, Germany, Belgium and the UK to skate with Deathracer413.

“’Cause now everybody’s retired and can travel,” Marker says. “They’re finding destinations to come and skateboard and San Diego’s a top one. So they come.”

‘I’ll stop when my body tells me to stop’

The deathracers catch up with one another, fist bumping and drinking beers, as one of them drops into the pool bowl.

As Deathracer413 celebrates its 200th skating session, the vibe is affectionate and rambunctious, jovial retiree backyard barbecue meets heavily tattooed skater meetup. More than 50 members — many with bushy gray beards, paunchy bellies and caps reading “The Goonies: Never Say Die” or “Independent” — mingle on the pool deck, cracking open beers, fist-bumping one another and catching up on life as the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated” fades into Bikini Kill’s “Rebel Girl” on the sound system.

The skaters drop into the pool one after another — swirling and swooshing around, “carving” and “grinding,” before popping back up — in such tight succession it feels choreographed. It’s as if we’re inside a pinball machine, with tiny objects orbiting around one another maniacally, wheels spinning, helmets twisting, boards whizzing by or flying into the air before crashing back down. Every so often someone wipes out, sliding across the pool bottom, sparking cheers of encouragement.

“I feel like the older I get the more I worry about getting hurt — because it lasts longer,” admits skateboarding legend Steve Caballero, 60. “If you think about it, it’s kind of a scary sport. You can get really hurt.”

Caballero has been a pro skateboarder since he was 15 and fear doesn’t stop him today — “I’ll stop when my body tells me to stop,” he says. He performs one of his signature moves, sliding along the rim of the pool on the skateboard truck instead of the wheels. No small feat for a body that’s endured more than 45 years of extreme athletics. A documentary about his life, “Steve Caballero: The Legend of the Dragon,” debuts this November.

Legendary skateboarder and deathracer Steve Caballero, 60, has been pro since he was 15.

“It definitely keeps me in shape,” he says. “It keeps me youthful-thinking, staying creative and being challenged. I think when people get older they quit doing these things because they feel like they should. I’m trying to show people, hey, even in your older age you can still have fun and challenge yourself.”

The feeling of freedom, the thrill of sailing through the air, is worth the risk to Barry Blumenthal, 60, a retired stockbroker.

“I’m more worried about crashing my car. I mean, I wear gear in here,” Blumenthal says. “Skating is just extreme fun where you can’t help but grin. It’s kid-like. It’s a fountain of youth experience. You’re chasing stoke.”

Pushing the boundaries of skating

Wiping out is part of the process, the Deathracers say. It’s still “kid-like” fun, “a fountain of youth experience.”

No doubt “dropping in” and “chasing stoke” for eternity would be “rad.” But is there any validity to Deathracer413’s claims that skateboarding promotes health and longevity?

“I’d worry about fractures,” says Dr. Jeremy Swisher, a UCLA sports medicine physician. “As you get older, it takes the body longer to heal. But it comes down to a risk-benefit analysis. The endorphins, the adrenaline — the joy of it — as well as the new challenges that stress the mind in a good way would be very mentally stimulating. You’re forming new neural pathways as you’re trying new moves. It would help keep the brain young and fresh.”

“I race cars for a hobby, and I know what that does for my aging,” adds Dr. Eric Verdin, president and chief executive of the Buck Institute for Research on Aging in Northern California. “Finding a thing that you’re passionate about, having a sense of community, not to mention the balance and motor coordination — skateboarding is extremely physical — all of that is part of healthy aging.”

Deathracer413 also has an important place in the trajectory of skateboarding.

Skateboarding has been around in California since the 1950s — a way to recreate surfing, but on dry land. “Vertical skateboarding,” which the Deathracers partake in, grew out of SoCal kids commandeering emptied backyard swimming pools. It was especially prevalent during the 1976-77 drought, when residents had to drain their pools and kids began performing elaborate airborne tricks. Skate parks emerged and “vert skating,” as it was dubbed, became a phenomenon.

Doug Marker, founder of Deathracer413, shows off the ring and patch he designed, bearing the group’s name.

The first park in California opened in Carlsbad in 1976 and the San Diego area is still considered a central hub for the sport. So today there’s a critical mass of ’70s and ’80s-era skateboarding devotees who still live nearby. That’s why Deathracer413 — the only club of its kind in the area, Marker says — has so many active members.

“There hasn’t ever been 60-year-plus [vert skaters] before,” Marker says. “The sport’s not that old. So that’s kind of our thing — we’re just gonna keep pushing the bar.”

In that sense, Deathracer413 is more than a subcultural vestige — its members present a sports medicine study of sorts, says Michael Burnett, editor in chief of “Thrasher Magazine,” a longtime skateboarding publication.

“A lot of people here are older than me,” says John Preston Brooks, 56.

“There were a few old-guy outliers, but this is the first generation of older skaters,” Burnett says. “We’re now witnessing how long someone can physically skateboard for — this is the test. It’s uncharted territory.”

Still, many of the Deathracers have modifed their skating techniques as they’ve aged. Marker says he now skates within 80-85% of his ability range to be safe. Others admit that the inevitable — death — is on their minds.

“As an older adult, you can get into your head about, oh, how much time do I have left?” says John Preston Brooks, 56. “But a lot of people here are older than me and it just makes me realize I got a lot more time to do the things I love and make the best of life.”

David Skinner, 60, a retired school teacher, says he’s realistic about his physical limits.

“A lot of us have health issues,” he says. “We’re not necessarily trying to cheat death, but we’re definitely trying to stay ahead. We know it’s coming, but we wanna keep dropping in and having fun, and this gives us a venue to do it.

A brotherhood, even if you no longer skate

As the day grinds on, the skate session morphs into an actual barbecue. Marker fires up the grill, tossing on an assortment of meat: burgers, bratwursts, hot dogs. Plumes of aromatic smoke float over the pool bowl, which is still getting some action.

Lance Smith, 74, stands off to the side of the bowl, a Coors Light in one hand, a Nikon camera in the other. With his dark sunglasses, soul patch of facial hair above his chin and trucker hat that reads “Old Bro,” he appears like someone’s cool great-uncle. He can’t skate anymore due to three replacements — two hip, one knee — after years of skateboarding injuries. (“I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” he says.) But Smith, who documented the SoCal skateboarding scene in the ’70s and photo edited the book “Tracker: Forty Years of Skateboard History,” still attends Deathracer413 events nearly every Saturday. He photographs club members in action.

Doug Marker mans the grill as the afternoon skate session morphs into a barbecue.

“It’s the community,” Smith says, stretching out his arm and snapping a passing skater. “I get enjoyment out of shooting pictures and seeing my friends skateboard. And, yeah, drinking a Coors Light.”

Deathracer413 is both a brotherhood and a sisterhood, says Tuli Lam, 31, a physical therapy student and one of the only women skaters in attendance today. “When I’m here, I’m just one of the guys. We’re bonded by skating.”

That camaraderie is evident when the group presents Marker with a gift of thanks.

“OK, gather round! Bring it in!” yells Lansing Pope, 58.

The skaters crowd around, stretching their necks to see what’s in the wrapped box Marker is tearing open.

“It’s a knee brace!” someone yells.

“It’s a crutch!” says another.

“Something for his prostate?” jokes a third.

“Whoa, super dope,” Marker says. (It’s a leather Deathracer413 bedroll for his motorcycle.) “I’m super stoked.”

The skateboarders presented Doug Marker with a gift, a custom Deathracer413 bedroll for his motorcycle.

“Till your wheels fall off!” several guys scream in unison, fists in the air.

Then, as if on cue, the skaters disperse around the pool bowl, streaming in and out of it, the sound of rattling wheels and screeching metal on concrete filling the space.

Tye Donnelly, 54, surveys the scene from a nearby picnic table, an electric guitar on his lap. He noodles on it, playing a mix of Black Sabbath and reggae.

“When I was 18, I never thought I’d be the old age of 20 and still skateboarding,” he says. “At 54, I thought I’d have a hat on, a suit, with a newspaper. But it turns out you can skateboard your whole life. And I’m thankful for this group — because it wasn’t like this back in the day.”

Caballero sums up senior skateboarding best: “This is the new bingo.”