More Christian privilege and threats for those who are different or they don’t like. There is no hate like Christian love. And if you have listened to Dan McCallen the prohibitions against homosexuality these people like to claim are wrong. It is wrong because they do not understand the culture of the time the bible was written and what the original text / words were. They just want to hate and they think that if it comes from god then it is not their fault. Imagine hating so bad that just people wanting recognition for existing and for equality free from discrimination enrages you. This is why pride is still so desperately needed. As I read what he wrote again the anger, ignorance, and implied violence just because other people have different ways and feelings than he does. And the billerent stupidity makes me worry for the people around him and his children.. His view of being a man or manly is incredibly toxic. There is a video at the end of the post I did not include. Hugs
A controversial former San Francisco Giants player has gone crazy online in a lengthy homophobic rant against his ex-team’s Pride Night debacle. Aubrey Huff took to X on Wednesday morning, and he didn’t pull any punches when it came to his thoughts on general manager Buster Posey’s befuddled response to reporters’ questions on Tuesday.
“I can pretty much guarantee you I know exactly what Buster wants to say about having to answer irrelevant non-Baseball questions that pertain to the sexual preference within the LGBTQ fudge packing community,” Huff began.
“I’m not wearing this gay bulls–t. Queers don’t watch Baseball anyway. They watch The View, enjoy therapy, & fudge packing sessions. And anyone inside the LGBTQ community, or those who support them don’t like what I just said, then I say to you…. Go f–k yourselves, & eat a d–k. And I mean that in the most literal sense,” he said.
Roller derby was already queer-friendly. Then it got more inclusive.
Years before trans athletes in sports embroiled national politics, roller derby — the five-player high-contact sport with punk rock nicknames — tackled the question of who could play.
For Juniper Simonis, that night in 2012 replays like the start of a favorite movie. It’s a warm summer evening, and she’s speeding through Ithaca, New York, on her bike. The wind is in her hair — at least as much as it could be under a bike helmet. Mariee Siou, the American folk singer, is blasting through her headphones.
The moment is memorable because of the feelings of freedom and hope sparked by an email she has just received. It says that the Ithaca League of Women Rollers derby team voted to allow her to play.
“As somebody who played sports and was queer, but those were two very separate parts of my life, the promise and the opportunity … to integrate those was very hopeful for me.”
Simonis is transgender. She had been voted on by an all-women’s team.
“Getting a message that was like, ‘You are welcome,’ was very, obviously, very uplifting.”
While Juniper Simonis fondly recalls the day she was accepted into an all-women’s roller derby team, she says there have also been challenges. (Alyson Works Photography)
Years before trans athletes in sports embroiled national politics, roller derby — the five-player high-contact sport with punk rock nicknames — tackled the question of inclusion. The policies and practices are often imperfect. Transgender women and men as well as athletes of color still face discrimination in the sport. But time and again, its athletes have opted to remain inclusive.
Nicole Williams, known as Bonnie Thunders on the track, is widely considered to be the greatest derby skater of all time and often referred to as the “LeBron James” of the sport. She’s been skating for 20 years and has seen the sport evolve on trans issues.
She acknowledges that there was a time when she and other skaters knew less about trans women and what it might mean to skate with them, but the experience of actually playing with them changed minds over the years. She says a sport that excludes trans people just doesn’t make sense to her.
“When I see, ‘protect women’s spaces,’ that feels so repressive,” she said. “I don’t want to discount that women’s spaces are important. They are, but I don’t really identify with that in the way that I used to.”
The history of derby
Roller derby traces its roots back to the 1930s, when sports promoter Leo Seltzer got the idea to hold a roller skating endurance race on a banked track. Even in its first iteration, roller derby was co-ed, according to the Smithsonian — though men made more money than women.
That endurance race that Seltzer started gave rise to the contact sport we know today, according to derby veteran and Angel City League Derby Director Rachel “Rotten” Johnston.
“Over the course of these races, people start to run into each other. They get tired, they try to sabotage each other,” Johnston said. “And so that’s the thing that people started to get really into.”
Derby evolved from the 1960s through the 1980s into a five-player sport and a highly produced televised spectacle. But it wouldn’t become nationally governed until the early aughts. As it evolved, it also became heavily centered on women, though the sport has some men’s teams.
In 2001, a group of women in Austin, Texas, decided to give the sport organization and structure. Some believed it should be held on a banked track, like the early days. Others favored a flat track because it didn’t have to be specially built. But largely, they shared a common culture.
“There was definitely something really cool about a tough punk rock chick of that era. And, roller derby in its earliest form was as much about the bar fights and the black eyes as it was about the skating,” Johnston said. “It was, it was like, I get to wear this badass outfit that’s also kind of sexy. … It was post riot grrrl kind of coming into the 2000s, a direct rebuttal of the pop culture that was happening.”
Out with Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. In with “Beyonslay,“ “Iron Maven” and “belle right hooks.”
The question of inclusion
This freaky feminist counter-culture prided itself on skating outside the rules of femininity and gender norms. It was decidedly queer and queer-friendly, a sport that celebrated the strength of women and welcomed all kinds of bodies. Most sports had been made for men and adjusted to include women. Derby, however, had been dreamed into existence by women, and women ruled the track.
Its popularity exploded. The sport went from a handful of skaters, shaky on their skates, to hundreds of teams operating under the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association (WFTDA) and the Roller Derby Coalition of Leagues (RDCL). The former swelled to over 400 leagues across six continents. The RDCL stayed smaller, with just eight teams.
At no point did the WFTDA ever actively ban trans athletes, but its early policies created some barriers and confusion for trans people looking to play. Williams notes that in the early aughts skaters wanted a safe space to compete away from men.
“At the time, ‘cis’ wasn’t really even a term we were using,” Williams said. “And it was cis men that we didn’t want.”
Early WFTDA policy around trans participation generally mirrored that of the Olympics at the time: Transgender women were allowed to skate if they had undergone hormone replacement therapy for two years.
But trans skaters said this was applied unevenly at best. Some teams allowed trans women to skate even if they hadn’t met the medical requirements.
“The gender policy that we were working from was well-intentioned, but certainly not iron-clad,” Johnston said.
In the 2010s some trans skaters started asking questions about the policy.
One of them was Penelope Nederlander, known as Fifi Nomenon on the track. Nederlander decided to try out for the LA Derby Dolls in 2010. At the end of her tryout, she sat down with a mentor who was showing her the ropes.
“I was like, ‘I know it’s pretty obvious, but you know I’m trans, right?’” she asked. “She’s like, ‘Oh, I had no idea.’”
The following day, the mentor pulled Nederlander aside. Did her driver’s license have an “F” on it for “female”? Yes, Nederlander said.
Cool. She was good to go.
“That was wild, that was unbelievable,” Nederlander said of the ease with which she was accepted.
Everyone else in Nederlander’s life had to be taught her new name and pronouns and coached on how to talk about her. Derby gave her a community she belonged to as her authentic self.
“It was the first group of friends who I met who only knew me as Penny, and that was huge,” she said.
An open door
This policy of vague acceptance on a case-by-case basis, however, would not stand forever. Eventually players demanded a policy of full inclusion for trans skaters. In 2015, WFTDA updated its policy to say that anyone of a marginalized gender is welcome and encouraged to skate, regardless of how they look or their transition status.
This policy opened the door for people early in the transition. It also created space for athletes assigned female at birth who wanted to medically transition to remain part of the sport.
Among them was Drew Flowers, whose Derby name is OMG WTF. Flowers has been skating since 2008 and is nonbinary.
“I identified so hard with this being a female sport, a woman’s only sport,” Flowers said.
Bonnie Thunders, who plays for Rose City, has been skating for 20 years and says she has seen the sport evolve on trans issues. (Jase Sanders)
“I really kind of didn’t give the benefit of the doubt to my teammates, to my community, that they were going to be supportive of me.”
It was not only derby that was at stake for Flowers. They owned a skate shop with their partner, who happens to be Nicole Williams. Their livelihood depended on the community’s embrace. Williams assured Flowers it would be OK.
“It was definitely a scary time, for sure,” they said. “I will say, the moment that I did decide, ‘I’m going to do this,’ I had reached a point in my life where I was like, ‘I have to do this.’”
Today, both skate for the Rose City Rollers Wheels of Justice.
More work to be done
Of course, derby is far from ideal. Flowers, Simonis and Nederlander have all faced substantial challenges as trans people in the sport.
Donita Green, known as Blaxyl Rose on the track, said that gender-diverse skaters regularly report facing harsher penalties from referees. It’s even more pronounced for Black skaters like Green, who plays for Angel City Derby in Los Angeles.
“I’ve seen firsthand how much worse some of these microaggressions and problems happen when you are a dark-skinned Black skater. … You add knowledge of trans identity, and it’s just it tends to be even worse,” Green said. “We talk often about skating while Black. It just happens.”
Simonis said she has been assaulted by other players because she is transgender.
A way forward
But for all of its shortcomings, derby has at least attempted something most sports have not: It has prioritized inclusion above its perceived legitimacy.
That’s not because roller derby is not a serious sport. For several Olympic cycles, derby was on the consideration list for inclusion, but WFTDA skaters had reservations. For one, the Olympic Committee recognized USA Roller Sports as the official governing body, not WFTDA, even though WFTDA housed the lion’s share of teams and players. But more importantly, roller derby players were reluctant to engage in international games that parachuted into host countries and imposed strict gender rules on athletes. Eventually, they abandoned the idea.
Nederlander wants it to be OK for athletes to talk openly about how cisgender men and cisgender women might have different advantages or disadvantages in sports.
It doesn’t have to mean transgender women aren’t women or don’t deserve safe places to play or that they represent a threat to their teammates.
“I want to arrive at the same conclusion, but with honesty about it,” she said, adding that trans women should still get to compete even if some are taller than some cisgender women. “In roller derby, there doesn’t seem to be an important difference. We really don’t have any complaints about trans skaters. So that’s awesome. … And I think that that’s just a more honest, accepting way, and it keeps the other side from using that stuff against us.”
Many argue that including transgender women in sports would compromise fairness and safety. Johnston said that years of derby have proven otherwise.
“I think that people who are concerned about people getting hurt are missing the fact that we’re playing a full contact sport. You’re going to get hurt no matter what,” she said. “You know, life isn’t fair, and sports most certainly are not fair.”
In March, the trio took third place at the 2026 Athletic Brewing Ironman 70.3 Oceanside competition, beating over 200 other teams.
Read Hiltz’s letter to the team below:
Schuyler, Chella, and Cal,
Congratulations on your podium finish at one of the toughest endurance events in the world! An Ironman podium is no joke. Beyond the months of training, sacrifice, and trust in your fellow teammates, a performance like that requires so much heart and grit. And it’s no surprise to me that you three embody those qualities so well.
Team Iron Transmasc represents so much to so many. Sometimes in sports, believing you can do something is supported by seeing someone else do it first. And when that someone looks like you, shares the same identity, pronouns, hairstyle, or top surgery scars, it can ignite a hope and fire to believe in yourself, and chase your dreams like never before.
As a nonbinary and endurance athlete myself, it was very special to see three out and proud transmasculine athletes execute a fantastic team effort and earn a podium performance together.
Thank you for your visibility and representation, and for inspiring me and so many others to believe that there’s a place for transmasculine people on podiums in endurance sports and beyond. — Nikki Hiltz
Congratulations are in order for Team Iron Transmasc, who won third place at the 2026 Athletic Brewing Ironman 70.3 Oceanside competition.
On Saturday, March 28, Team Iron Transmasc nabbed the third place spot in an ironman competition, a team sport that includes swimming, bike riding, and running. The team included champion trans swimmer Schuyler Bailar, deaf nonbinary cyclist Chella Man, and trans nonbinary marathoner Cal Calamia.
In an Instagram post celebrating their win, the trio wrote that they wanted to compete “without losing our love of the sport and synchronizing as friends.”
They continued, “In a world that is increasingly hostile toward trans people with an undue emphasis on athletics, we came together to showcase trans excellence, trans collaboration, and trans joy.”
The trio said they competed “for every person disenfranchised by transphobia, white supremacy, ableism, colonialism. For Palestinians, Iranians, Sudanese, Congolese. For every human’s right to exist exactly as we are, everywhere we are.”
The trio bested over 200 other teams to win their third place victory, per Out.
As part of the caption, the champions also pointed out that their victory took place just a few days after the IOC banned trans women from competition in female events.
“Sports are a human right of which so many people are deprived,” they wrote.
Bailar spoke further about trans participation in sports in an interview with Out given prior to the trio’s victory.
“One of the reasons that the recent IOC decision is so devastating is because it sends a message that sports are going to lead through discrimination, as opposed to being on a progressive way of moving humanity forwards, which is what they should be doing,” Bailar said.
Calamia told Out that the trio “kind of crushed it.” The running portion of the race was the third leg of the competition. Calamia said that, in their final moments, they passed a runner to nab a podium spot.
“There was a runner that was also competing in the relay that I passed at the very, very end of the whole thing, within the last 10 meters,” they said. “I had to close the deal. There was no part of me that would quit. And we got that spot on the men’s podium! It was amazing!”
Each competitor included a visual signifier of their trans identity on their uniform, Calamia mentioned. They had a trans flag on their running shorts, Schuyler had trans-colored goggles and Chella had a sign that said “bodies are not bans.”
Calamia said the trio have their eyes on future competitions, as well. “We’re already talking about what we’re going to do next,” they said. “We want to scale this up and get more trans athletes doing relays like this. We’re just excited to keep inspiring people and providing a counterweight to the other conversations about trans athletes.”
Donald Trump had an interview with a national news network, and he got fact-checked. Obviously, this network was not Fox News, because it would typically allow him to lie unabated.
It was a wide-ranging interview with NBC News’s Kristen Welker that aired Sunday on Meet the Press, and ended abruptly in a hissy fit on his part. Trump claimed that the California gubernatorial primary is “rigged” in favor of Democrats. Instead of letting his lie slide by, Welker pushed back and pointed out that there is no evidence to his claim. Welker was professional and tried to move the interview forward after calling out his lie, but Trump would not let it go.
Trump has a tradition of castigating black female journalists, and he continued it with Welker, saying, “You’re either crooked or you’re stupid,” before ending the interview in a tantrum. (snip-MORE)
It seems that Donald Trump wants to take something else away from the people and make it all about himself. This time, it’s the NBA finals.
The New York Knicks lead in the finals, 2-0, after defeating the Spurs in the first two games in San Antonio. Now, the series is headed to New York City, where it will resume on Monday night. Not only will there be thousands upon thousands of rabid New York fans waiting for them, but also Donald Trump.
The Knicks haven’t won an NBA Finals series since 1973, and fans are worried that Donald Trump’s presence will jinx their current run, where they have not lost in the last 12 games. The Knicks swept the Cleveland Cavaliers and the Detroit Pistons on their way to meet the Spurs in the finals. The Spurs are supposed to be the better team, but no one has told the Knicks that yet.
Knicks owner James Dolan has invited Trump to attend Monday’s game at Madison Square Garden. Why would he do that? Is he stupid? (snip-MORE)
I considered taking the day off, but I have a hard time not working. I kind of sort of don’t know what to do with myself. So I drew something, but decided not to spend too much time on it.
I was thinking about artificial intelligence and how much I hate it. I really hate these people on social media who use AI to create cartoons. They suck. It annoys me that these people think that they are cartoonists. We all use AI, but I really hate that people are using it for their creative process. Lately, the word “slop” has been used with AI. I don’t know who was the first to use it that way, but it’s most appropriate. When it comes to art, there isn’t a lot of variety in styles with AI, which means that when you use it, it looks generic. I can usually tell when something has been created with AI. (snip-MORE)
I am really becomeing in favor of this person for governor. I love how he talks about trans kids and how he wants them to feel included in society. He said that because of the risk of suicide and self harm if these children are excluded he won’t do that to them. He is not giving an inch on trans issues. As for advantages or not as Emma and Sam discuss there is a basket ball player so tall that he can stand on his toes and put the ball in the net. Is that an unfair advantage? Hugs
We were eight, nine, ten-years-old, and we called it “Smear the Queer.”
The game went like this: there were a group of kids—nearly always all boys—and a football. The pigskin got tossed up, a boy would grab it, the rest of us would chase and tackle him, and either he would surrender the ball or one of us would take it, and the chasing and tackling would start all over again.
That was the whole game. It was basically freeform rugby with no points, but this was Central Texas in the mid-90s and none of us were aware of rugby, so we thought of it as reverse tag with violence.
We called it “Smear the Queer” because that’s what the older boys called it. They called it that because the boys older than them called it that. Or that’s what their older brothers called it. Or that’s what their fathers and uncles called it.
At that age, I don’t think there was any discussion on the etymology of the word “queer” or why the ball carrier was called “the queer.” That was just the name of the game, and if you had a group of young boys and a football and enough interest, a kid might say “Smear the Queer?” and the game would start.
We were conditioned to think of being gay as a bad thing before we knew what it meant to be gay. By the time we got to middle school, it was made crystal clear to us that there were two things it was absolutely wrong for a boy to be: either gay or a girl.
If another boy called you gay or a girl, it was either because they were being “friendly” (or what passed for “friendly” among boys then) and playfully teasing you with the easiest insult — or they really didn’t like you and were going for the jugular with the worst insult. The intent was based on context, but at the end of the day, being gay or being a girl were not good things.
By that age, homophobic and sexist language had seeped into casual conversations among most of our peers. “That’s gay” was the most common way of saying a situation sucked.
“Wanna come over and play video games after school?”
“Can’t. Got detention.”
“That’s gay.”
“Yeah.”
At the close of the ‘90s, the words “faggot” and “pussy” were at the center of teenage boy lexicon. And a lot of the teenage girls used them, too. These terms flew freely in the hallways of middle school and sometimes in the classroom. Some teachers and parents might put a stop to it, and some teachers and parents willfully ignored it.
I got called “faggot” so many times in those years that I was pretty much resigned to it long before high school.
I was called a faggot for being in choir. I was called a faggot for getting good grades. I was called a faggot for reading. I was called a faggot for listening to Mariah Carey. I was called a faggot for my girlish laugh. I was called a faggot for my mannerisms. I was called a faggot if I did something nice. I was called a faggot for being smaller than the other boys. I was called a faggot for not wearing the right clothing. I was called a faggot for the way I walked. I was called a faggot for the way I talked. I was called a faggot if I followed the rules. I was called a faggot because a boy just didn’t like me. I was called a faggot because a boy in my grade might just feel like saying “faggot” and I was conveniently there.
I never said “faggot” or “that’s gay” myself because it felt wrong. I had a gay uncle. He had a boyfriend. They would come over and hang out and drink and smoke with my mother and stepfather. They were always welcome. The four of them would have a grand ole time.
This did not stop my mother and stepfather from asking my uncle and his boyfriend to sit me down when I was nine or so and make it clear that I needed to act like a boy and never act like a girl because everyone could see the writing on the wall and they wanted to prevent me from getting my ass kicked by other boys.
I didn’t understand their intent at the time. I felt very confused. I thought I had been acting like a boy. Apparently not enough. I needed to try harder. I had no idea what “try harder” meant.
What I remember most is my uncle’s boyfriend giving me a serious look and saying the following: “Don’t be a faggot, kid.”
The world that was supposedly the opposite of “being gay” was professional sports. Football, basketball, baseball. Emmitt Smith, Troy Aikman, Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, Allen Iverson, Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, etc.
These men were considered the opposite of gay. They were big and strong and famous and talented and handsome and all the girls loved them and all the boys wanted to be them.
At least where I grew up, the thought of gay men in professional sports was so far removed from rationality that it never came up in conversation. Male celebrities in music, film, and television? All fair game for speculation. But not sports. There was no way a man could be gay if he were a pro athlete. Impossible.
When Jason Collins came out 13 years ago this spring, you could have knocked me over with a feather. My peers and I had grown up, and the world had rapidly changed in such a short time. And yet, it was still a jarring, welcome surprise.
By then, homophobic language was largely frowned upon, even by many conservatives who opposed LGBTQ rights. It felt like everyone personally knew someone in their lives who were openly gay. And the vast majority of folks, regardless of politics, were then enjoying entertainment made by openly-gay celebs.
“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” had recently been repealed, which meant gay, lesbian, and bisexual folks could serve openly in the military. Tammy Baldwin had recently become the first openly-LGBTQ person elected to the U.S. Senate in Wisconsin, and she had seven openly-LGBTQ colleagues in the House, not including Barney Frank, who had retired from Congress on the same day she was sworn-in.
It felt at the time like same-sex marriage could possibly be legalized nationwide within the decade but maybe not. It wasn’t anywhere near certain. Possible, yes, but no guarantee. Yet, just that it was possible felt incredible.
But male sports? Many years away, it was assumed. Americans could accept gay and bisexual male soldiers dying on their behalf but openly-gay men in the NFL, NBA, MLB, and NHL? Not for a long time to come.
It wasn’t that most of us thought there weren’t closeted gay men in the leagues. We assumed there were. Statistically, how could there not be closeted gay men playing pro sports?
But they weren’t going to come out while still playing. Nope, not for a long time. Pro sports were (and remain) the last cultural bastion of American masculinity, the sole extracurricular distraction of tens of millions of American men who don’t want anything uncomfortable messing up their entertainment.
Make music. Make movies. Serve in the military. Run for office. Get married. Go be gay and live your life. Just stay away from male sports.
It mattered little to them that Sue Wicks and Sheryl Swoopes and other women had come out in the WNBA by then. It mattered little to them that lesbian and bisexual women were, by 2013, out in every major pro women’s sports league. All were courageous, all were leaders, all faced discrimination, and yet, a strange misogyny permitted Americans—particularly men—to have an uneasy, conditional acceptance of openly-gay women in major pro sports but not openly-gay men.
This was the environment in which Jason Collins came out. Everything about it astonished me. The cover of Sports Illustrated? Doing so while a free agent after the season had ended and making a huge gamble on his career? Doing so as a Black man in a country with a long history of diminishing and dehumanizing Black masculinity?
I was in awe of him. I remain in awe of him.
No teams signed him in the offseason. Maybe it was his production on the court. Maybe there were no teams who thought he’d be a good fit for their needs. Maybe—just maybe—even with the general support he received, it was because he was now an openly-gay man and no teams wanted that controversy.
Even with NBA superstars like LeBron James, Kobe Bryant, Dwayne Wade, Steve Nash, and many others praising his courage and saying all that mattered was the game itself and meeting the standard of excellence, he still got passed over.
It was ten months later when, finally, the Brooklyn Nets signed Mr. Collins to a ten-day contract. February 23rd, 2014. Jason Kidd—the coach of the Nets and a former teammate and good friend of Mr. Collins—pushed for the contract. He played that night for 11 minutes against the Lakers. The first openly-gay man to compete in any of the four major male pro sports leagues in North America.
He would eventually be signed for the remainder of the season with the Nets and retired from pro basketball that November.
But here’s what really gets me about Jason Collins: he never rested on his laurels, nor did he decide coming out while an active gay male pro athlete was enough, even though, I would argue, he’d have been well within his right to do so.
Jason Collins had that quality inherent in all great leaders: a heart for service. He always thought about others. He always wanted to lift up others.
It was only revealed after he came out that he had worn No. 98 on his jersey while with the Celtics and Wizards—when he was still closeted—in honor of Matthew Shepard, the 21-year-old, openly-gay man who was beaten, tortured, and murdered in Laramie, Wyoming in 1998.
He returned to No. 98 after coming out and signing with the Nets. It became the highest-selling jersey in the NBA for a time. He had that level of impact with his courage.
He consistently supported others in the broader LGBTQ community, even when he had no personal connection to us.
Several times over the years, Jason Collins—the retired NBA pro—reached out to me—a little-known trans woman political writer— over social media just to offer words of encouragement and make sure I felt supported and loved — because he saw the vile hatred trans folks were experiencing.
He would tell me he was proud of me. He would remind me that I should keep my chin up and be proud of myself. I remember one random occasion in 2020, as tired and stressed as I was during the presidential campaign, when I opened a DM from Jason that simply read: “Sending you a big hug today.”
Jason Collins went out of his way to be a big brother to queer folks he didn’t know just because he wanted to ensure we didn’t feel alone in tough moments. He felt protective of us because he knew, more than just about anyone, that sharp pang of loneliness in the public arena.
Many of us received an email this past Monday evening from Jason’s husband, Brunson Green, informing us that Jason was headed to hospice care and requesting we record a video offering words of love and what he means to us.
I cried after the reading the email and got to writing. It didn’t feel like enough. How do I tell this man how much he’s meant to me, meant to all of us? I decided to rewrite it (yet again) and film it and send it by the following evening. I wanted to do it right. He deserved at least that. He deserved way more than what I could offer.
Jason passed the next day before I could send it. I will forever regret not telling him all this, even though he likely wouldn’t have seen it in the mountain of videos his family received from countless people who loved and admired him.
What gives me comfort is knowing he was surrounded by those who loved him most, supported by millions who have thought about him this week, said a prayer for him, acknowledged his greatness and his humanity, given thanks for his selflessness and public service.
WICHITA, Kan. (KAKE) — Trash littered the Jackie Robinson Pavilion Sunday morning; a plaque with the words ‘FRIENDS OF JACKIE’ had the name ‘Jackie’ crossed out in pink marker — ‘Mark Goston’ written underneath.
“This kind of stuff is always upsetting, no matter where it happens, but it’s particularly annoying when it affects League 42,” the league wrote in a Facebook post. “We have worked hard to improve these facilities from when we started 13 years ago. And there is no comparison.”
This isn’t the first time a League 42 baseball facility has been vandalized. In 2024, Wichita police arrested 45-year-old Ricky Alderete in connection with the theft and burning of a statue of Jackie Robinson in McAdams Park.
The statue was donated to the non-profit baseball group League 42 in 2021. Soon after the theft, the founder and executive director of League 42, Bob Lutz, launched a GoFundMe campaign to raise funds to replace the statue.
The youth baseball league said it received a $100,000 gift from Major League Baseball to replace a statue of Jackie Robinson. The GoFundMe raised a total of $194,780.
After six months without the statue, a new Jackie Robinson statue was unveiled in August 2024.
Now, in light of the recent vandalism at the pavilion, the league is working with the City of Wichita and District 1 councilman Joseph Shepard, according to a Facebook post.
“… we will be discussing ways to combat this nonsense,” League 42 wrote. “I don’t understand why people can’t just leave things alone. We want to share our facilities, and we believe the Jackie Robinson Pavilion is a destination spot for Wichitans and for visitors to our city. But when our citizens do this kind of damage, what are we really showing off?”
KAKE crews have confirmed the trash has been cleaned.
Never a good idea for journalists to become chummy with politicians and people in power but this year particularly, it’s allowing an autocrat to continue his attack against the free press.
Right-wing commentator, white nationalist, Vladimir Putin fan, former Fox News host, and former bowtie aficionado, Tucker Carlson, is now sorry that he helped elect Donald Trump to the presidency.
Tucker, who was often at Trump’s side during the presidential campaign in 2024 and who was a huge lobbyist to get JD Vance on the ticket, now says he will long be “tormented” for helping Donald Trump get to the White House and start a war with Iran.
Tucker is just one of several right-wing goons who have gone from being full-fledged MAGAts to personal enemies of Donald Trump. They include not just Tucker, but Marjorie Taylor Greene, Alex Jones, Megyn Kelly, and Candace Owens. (snip-MORE)
I was surprised a year or so ago when I learned that people were betting on professional wrestling. As you are probably aware, professional wrestling matches are pre-determined, as in, they are fake. I guess the only thing that prevents a writer of the matches from cleaning up is that the stakes are very low.
When I was a kid, my mother told me that people could not bet on who shot JR from the TV show Dallas because one of the writers could go to Vegas and place a large wager on it. That would have been insider trading. That’s not allowed, right?
Yesterday, a U.S. Army special forces soldier involved in the capture of President Nicolás Maduro of Venezuela was charged with using classified information to bet on events related to the mission. The soldier made more than $400,000 by betting on the prediction markets that the capture would happen. (snip-MORE)
Scottie's Playtime 