Photographed by Rami Gazaleh | June 21, 2026 The Ronaldinho Gala Photographed by Rami Gazaleh | @dranabeltvhost @xxxxelo @ronaldinho @lennox Miami Beach came alive during the 2026 FIFA World Cup week as the Ronaldinho Gala transformed Ocean Drive into a high-fashion spectacle at Villa Casa Casuarina. The exclusive evening brought together soccer, luxury, and international style in one of the city’s most iconic settings. Produced by the House Fashion Show International, Vice City Miami by Elo, & supported by strategic innovation partner the Wyn Group Miami, the gala positioned itself as an exclusive outdoor spectacle, featuring a runway experience, exotic supercars, black-tie styling, and a curated VIP atmosphere. The evening was framed as a convergence of football royalty, high fashion, and Miami’s energy, with Ronaldinho honored at the center of the celebration. The gala also highlighted a strong luxury lifestyle angle, with premium seating, elevated hospitality, and an audience made up of celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs, and invited guests according to the event materials. Special guests at the Ronaldinho Gala included Ronaldinho Gaúcho, Jesus Luz, Cleusa Santos, Katia Aveiro, and Lennox, along with expected dignitaries such as Miami Beach Mayor Steven Meiner and Ocean Drive Association’s Ceci Velasco. Fashion was a major part of the night’s identity, with collections showcased from designers including Giannina Azar, Michael Cinco, Viannk Mansur, Elie Tahari, and Tanuj Amalean of AMALEAN Bespoke. The event experience also emphasized live entertainment, premium catering, open bar service, media coverage, and networking across the worlds of sports, style, and business. See the full event recap gallery below.

Gallery by Holly Arend | June 21 2026 Portland Sea Dogs vs Somerset Patriots, June 21 2026 by Holly Arend The Sea Dogs couldn’t complete the weekend series win on Father’s Day, falling 6-4 to Somerset on Sunday at Hadlock Field. Portland kept it close late, but the Patriots did enough to hand the Sea Dogs a loss in the homestand finale These photos are owned by Hazze Media and Minor League Baseball (MiLB). They may not be redistributed, sold, or used for commercial purposes without explicit permission.

Gallery by Holly Arend | June 20 2026 Sea Dogs vs Patriots, June 20th, 2026 by Holly Arend Batman Night at Hadlock Field ended with a hero moment of its own as Portland stormed back for a 7-6 walk-off win over Somerset on Saturday. The Sea Dogs erased a late deficit with a four-run ninth inning to cap a dramatic finish in front of the home crowd. Sea Dogs vs Patriots, June 20th, 2026 by Holly Arend These photos are owned by Hazze Media and Minor League Baseball (MiLB). They may not be redistributed, sold, or used for commercial purposes without explicit permission.

By Ava Heaton | June 19 2026 New York Knicks fans climb on buses as they celebrate in Times Square in New York City after the team defeated the San Antonio Spurs to win the NBA Finals, June 14, 2026. Photo Credit: Adam Gray/Getty Images For years, to be a New York Knicks fan was to be associated with heartbreak, dysfunction, and the yearly tradition of praying for draft lottery balls that never seemed to bounce the right way. An entire generation of fans grew up not seeing Madison Square Garden as “The Mecca of Basketball,” but instead as the home to expensive tickets and underwhelming results. But now that the Knicks have officially captured their first NBA championship in 53 years, that long, painful narrative has been rewritten. The resurgence of the team didn’t just revive a franchise, though. It fundamentally shifted the mood, economy and social fabric of New York City. The city that never sleeps finally has a reason to stay up celebrating. In a city home to over eight million people, genuine agreement and unity are almost impossible to come by. New Yorkers disagree on just about everything from politics and transit down to who really runs the Big Apple, the Yankees or the Mets? If we take a step back, though, basketball has always been the true heartbeat of the city. A Knicks playoff run in any capacity sees New York come together, but making the NBA Finals and then winning that trophy? That accomplished something seemingly impossible: uniting the five boroughs. Watch parties were held in every borough for every game and after every win the city streets transformed into midnight block parties and Game 5 was no different. Fans flooded the asphalt, singing at the top of their lungs, high-fiving and hugging people they had never seen before and likely would never see again. Tears flowed from fans who have been waiting their whole life for this moment and despite the team being roughly 1,800 miles away in San Antonio, the excitement throughout the streets didn’t falter. Knicks fans gathered for a watch party at MSG. Photo Credit MSG Sports The anxiety that tends to define New York sports has now been replaced with pure, unadulterated joy. Nothing can quite encapsulate the intersection of a team's success and a city’s identity better than a viral moment that takes the whole world by storm. “My mayor Muslim, my bagel’s Jewish, my Christian Dior ... Knicks in four.” An impromptu fan interview outside Madison Square Garden suddenly became a viral rally cry that swept through all five boroughs and beyond. And though the finals series against the San Antonio Spurs ended in five games rather than a sweep, the chant was not only heard, but seen everywhere. Fans adjusted to make the rhyme fit with “Knicks in five,” and every version was seen on shirts, hats, and graphics across the country. The chant itself highlights a beautiful truth about New York: a diverse, fragmented group of people have all come together under a single orange and blue banner. In bars, bodegas, and community centers, people of completely different backgrounds stood shoulder to shoulder, screaming for the same defensive stops and weeping tears of joy at the same historic victory. And as New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani said in his speech following the championship parade, “So often when this city comes together, it is because we are forced to by a moment of adversity… What a gift it is to be brought together by pure, unfiltered joy.” Social unity wasn’t the only impact this historic run had on New York, though. According to the New York City Economic Development Corporation, before the finals even started, the Knicks’ playoff run had generated an estimated $202 million for the city’s economy from home games alone (and that’s with only seven home games in the first three rounds). Additionally, sports bars, restaurants, and basically anywhere with a screen were hosting watch parties during each postseason game. People were eager to feel a sense of community while cheering on the team they love and game nights had become the ultimate economic lifeline. According to CBS News, bars and restaurants have been at capacity throughout the playoffs with some even doubling up on security to stay alert. Ahead of Game 5, streets were even blocked off hours before tipoff, restaurants already only allowing customers with reservations through. Plus, once that final whistle blew, signaling the championship win, a retail boom ignited across the whole tri-state area, but especially the city. The Fanatics website was flooded and fans lined up outside Dick’s Sporting Goods, looking to be among the first to get their hands on 2026 Champions merchandise. New Yorkers can expect to see Knicks hats, jerseys, and shirts just about everywhere for the foreseeable future. A person dressed as Spiderman dances as New York Knicks fans celebrate their win against San Antonio Spurs in Game 5 of the NBA Finals on June 13, 2026, in New York City. Photo Credit: Adam Gray/Getty Images On top of everything else, the victory has restored Madison Square Garden’s prestige. It re-established the arena’s status as a premier global stage where A-list celebrities and everyday working-class New Yorkers come together to witness history. The sports world has been reminded why it is called "The World's Most Famous Arena". By securing the Larry O’Brien Trophy and bringing it back to New York, the Knicks have given the city something priceless: its swagger back. They proved that when the Garden is at its best, there’s just about no sporting environment on Earth that can match its energy. Now, the 53-year drought is over, the ghosts of past failures have been exorcised, and the proud spirit of New York has been successfully restored. Disclaimer: The views, analysis, and opinions expressed in this op-ed are of the writer. All information is for commentary and informational purposes only and is not intended as legal, professional, or investment advice. References to third-party sources and public figures are made for illustrative purposes and do not imply endorsement or verification by HAZZE MEDIA.

Interview by Christina Winnegar | June 15 2026 In the moments of reflection when Emmett Croteau thinks back to where it all began, memories of a draft stage or a championship celebration are not what come first. What he remembers is the fundamental stage in who he grew to become in the crease: an outdoor rink, a chair pushed across the ice and a kid who was not even sure if he liked skating. For a brief moment, the idea of hockey slipped away, then pulled him back in. Years later, Croteau would hear his name called in the sixth round by the Montréal Canadiens, backstop Dartmouth College to an Eastern College Athletic Conference (ECAC) championship, and become a respected goaltender in Division I college hockey. Yet through every milestone, he has carried a simple philosophy with him – one first shared by a goaltender coach during the days of junior hockey that would eventually shape his game on and off the ice: “Just vibe where your feet are.” What was your introduction to the game, and what is your earliest memory on the ice? My earliest memory on the ice is probably just being on the outdoor rink, just like ripping around with a chair, and just having fun. I think that was when I was a little kid, when I first put on the skates. I didn't really like it, so I took some time away, and I found myself right back shortly after. Since then, the game has just latched onto me and helped me become who I am today. What is the best piece of advice you have ever received in your hockey career? My second year of junior hockey, my goalie coach at the time, PD Melgoza, once told me, "Just vibe where your feet are," and at first, listen, I was like, "What does that even mean?" It just confused me at the time. But, as I've grown up, and I've been through what I've been through throughout my career, and what I've accomplished: the most important thing, and the only thing you need to worry about is what you're doing at the current moment. So my feet are right here with me, so just vibe where your feet are. What’s one sacrifice people never see behind the scenes of chasing a professional hockey career? At the time, it could have seemed like a sacrifice, but over time, it was worth it. I was just kind of at a young age, you know, missing a lot of, you know, fun events, or birthday parties, or social gatherings, or weddings, or family reunions, or, you know, so many, so many things that you know come with being, you know, a kid, a teenager, young adult, like that. You'd like to be a part of that. You kind of have to basically choose which road you want to take, because ultimately, if you want to be the best you can be, it's tough to do both. So, I think growing up, I made a lot of sacrifices, and, you know, was committed to hockey. I look back, and you know, maybe now it doesn't seem so hard, but back then it was tough growing up, and missing so much, being on the road and playing games and training, and all that. What keeps you grounded (outside of hockey) during the long seasons? I'm pretty routine-based, and I find things that keep me entertained and work for me and keep me aligned physically and mentally. So, I think it's important to have things to do when you're not at the rink. When I'm not at the rink, I like to kind of stray away from hockey and kind of do my own thing. I like to listen to music. I think it's a big thing. I listen to a lot of music, read and do things like play basketball, watch movies, play video games, try out a new coffee shop and try out a new restaurant. These things get me away from the sport, and just let me be with myself and take some time on my own. Walk us through your tape job. What is the story behind it? Is your tape job something that has evolved with you over the years, or has it always stayed the same? My tape job, I tried my first year of juniors, and then ever since then, I have just been doing the same thing. For the knob, my dad did it for me when I was a little kid, so I've been doing the same thing he's been doing since I first started playing. My stick-blade tape job changed as I was growing up. I was messing around and doing weird stuff with it, but I finally found a tape job that works for me. It’s pretty standard. Just heal to the toe; leave the toe untaped. What version of yourself do you believe hockey has shaped the most? Every different version of myself has taught me so much. I think, specifically, the hardships I've went through so far in my career and at a young age, I think those if you approach them with the right mindset, you can, you can pull lessons and teachings, and, and when you, when you approach it from that, you can be grateful for the times that you struggled, because those are opportunities to learn and grow. What part of your personality shows up most in your game? My competitiveness and my edge, I like to play, play with fire, and I like to play with passion, and put my whole heart out there, but obviously, there's a balance with that. As I've grown up, I've been able to kind of manage that and keep that flame at a balanced level. But, I'd say playing with an edge in, and a flame is definitely something that helps me perform at my best. What is a moment in your hockey career that changed the way you see yourself off the ice? I remember at a younger age attending a WHL camp and just seeing what it would take. I think that was my first kind of view into the high levels of junior hockey, and what it would take mentally and physically. I think from just seeing like all the current players, meeting the staff, and the fitness testing and the on ice, that was a big kind of like moment of, okay, this is what this is about, and this is what I'll have to do to take steps forward and be able to take hockey as far as I want to go. So, I think it was maybe a little bit of an eye-opening experience to just like this is what's next, and try and learn and figure out what I have to do to make myself succeed at the next level. What did it mean to you to be drafted by the Montréal Canadiens specifically, considering the history of the organization? What is your most fond memory from draft day? Regardless of who you're picked by, it's something special. But obviously, they're a historic franchise with so much rich history and such a deep fan base. My grandpa is a huge Canadians fan, so I think that made it that much more special. But, I think just the most fond memory of that day was just like sharing that with my family, and being able to just use that as a stepping stone within my journey. Just because you’re drafted, it doesn't really mean anything, but it's a cool accomplishment, and a cool thing to have happen to you. So I shared that with my family, and was grateful for that. What is the most superstitious thing about your hockey routine? The most superstitious thing about my hockey routine, honestly, is that everything I do there's a purpose behind it, and whether it's meditation or juggling or breathing or listening to some music, I think it all serves a purpose, as much as it could sound superstitious. But, I pretty much do everything at the same time, and all my prep is all my prep is doesn't change much, too much. If there are obstacles or things that do happen to change, I'm able to kind of seamlessly transition and not get too caught up in that, which has taken years to figure out. How would you describe the culture playing on a team like Dartmouth? I think that ever since I've stepped foot on the campus, Coach Cashman and Coach Tapp have created a culture of gratitude, hard work, and just being a dog, I guess that's the way to describe it. Just nose to the grindstone. So we're all in a place where we're having fun playing a sport that we're able to do, and we're pushing ourselves so hard doing it, so it's just such a healthy balance of love, fun, and just hard work, to where it's created a culture where we've been able to have some success thus far. If your stick could tell one story about your 2025-26 season, what would it say? Probably, how hard it hit the ground when we won our ECAC championship. I think that was one of my fondest hockey memories so far. It speaks volumes to what Dartmouth has been building, what I've been grateful to be a part of so far at Dartmouth, and what hopefully we're still building towards. What is one thing you wish fans understood about the mental side of being a goalie? There's nothing really I wish they'd understand, but I guess people give you crap about goalies just stand there, and all they have to do is stop the puck, which is fair, I guess, from an outsider's point of view, that's what it could seem like. But goalies put countless time into those little one-inch movements that look so small, but can be the difference of you winning a championship and not winning a championship. So I think sometimes goalies get maybe a little more credit than they should, but they also get a little more slack than they should. But that's what makes the position fun, and that's why we play it. What is your setup (stick, flex, gear preference, etc)? I've always used Bauer sticks with the P-31 curve. I like to play the puck, and that one helps me get accuracy and power behind playing the puck. I'm not sure about flex. I think most sticks are the same flex; regardless, I don't need too much, as I shouldn't. It's always a good reminder that if I'm playing the puck too much, I should probably chill out a little bit. You don't need too much flex there; there's no need to be firing it down the ice. If ‘Best Dam Tape’ made a signature tape design or wax scent for you, what would it be and why? I'd probably say a Red Bull scent or a tea tree scent. I always have a sugar-free Red Bull before every game. And in my pregame shower at the hotel or in my dorm, I always have my tea tree shampoo. Just love the smell of it. So I think those would be my signature wax scents. I don't know if I could get behind anything other than white tape, so I'll stick with a signature white tape. When you reflect on your journey, what would be the soundtrack to your life? It can be an album, song, or even an artist that resonates with you. My Way by Frank Sinatra. It's a good song, you know. My grandpa showed me Frank Sinatra when I was a kid, when he would drive me to hockey when I was younger, and it’s something I still listen to to this day. I've taken a pretty unique route throughout my journey, and I think that I've done it unapologetically. I've done it for myself and my family, and I'm having fun, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to do it. I try to constantly learn and grow and have fun doing it. I think that song, that song fully puts a bow on that as a whole. Maybe that is why Frank Sinatra’s signature song “My Way” feels like the perfect soundtrack to Croteau’s journey. Not because the path followed has been easy, but because it belonged to him. Through the early sacrifices of missed family gatherings, countless hours refining micro movements measured in inches that have the power to make or break a game, championship moments, and the pressure that comes coupled with tending the crease, he has learned to stay present, trust the process and embrace every lesson along the way. If his stick could tell the story of this past season, it might talk about crashing into the ice after Dartmouth’s ECAC title. But Croteau’s story is bigger than a championship. It is about navigating and finding purpose in every step of your journey, appreciating where your feet are, and moving forward entirely on your own terms. This feature is part of an ongoing partnership series between HAZZE MEDIA (Sports) and Best Dam Tape that highlights stories from across the hockey community. To learn more about Best Dam Tape products or to purchase Emmett's tape job, visit: https://bestdamtape.com.

Gallery by Jackilyn Cooper | June 14 2026 Lexington Legends vs Gastonia Ghost Peppers Photos by Jackilyn Cooper The Legends secured a walk-off victory in a 10-9 thriller against the Ghost Peppers. Lexington Legends vs Gastonia Ghost Peppers Photos by Jackilyn Cooper

Performance Review and Opinion: Lorde at Governors Ball 2026, Day 1 Written by Camila Molina | June 13, 2026 | Photos Courtesy of Grandstand Media This article contains strong language, including direct quotes from performers. The language has been retained to accurately reflect the tone, message, and emotional intensity of the performance. Reader discretion is advised. Photo By Roger Ho Concert videos never do the magic of a live performance justice. That, combined with my destroyed attention span, means I find myself struggling to sit through concert videos, even for artists I adore. But last summer, Lorde's Glastonbury Festival performance would not disappear from my YouTube feed. Like many people my age, I have been trying to be more intentional about what I engage with online after what has felt like years of being told what I am supposed to like or think, etc., but these suggested videos would not let up. Thank God I gave in. Never have I had such FOMO in my life. On my couch, the electricity of the show somehow shone through, reminding me of the yearning I felt as a little girl to be immersed in the live music scene. I am not even a consistent fan of her music, but neither was a good friend of mine, who went to a Lorde show in 2025, and her exact words were, "THIS is music." Though it may seem a bit unreasonable, given that as I write this I still have not explored Lorde's full discography, I decided my new mission was to see her perform live. I wanted to see what my friend meant by "this is music" and, more importantly, see if that electricity I witnessed and felt was simply from Glastonbury’s crowd or a Lorde live music specialty. So, despite thinking I would maybe take a break from covering Gov Ball this year, when I saw her name on the lineup, I knew I would finally get my answer. I arrived early and decided to leverage the access my press pass gave me to the VIP section, which tends to be less crowded, with the knowledge that I could not write much of a review from the back of the crowd at 5'1". The crowd was dedicated. As soon as KATSEYE closed with their long-awaited performance of "Gnarly," while many ran out of the crowd, nearly just as many pushed in around me. Even on exhausted legs, I held my post dedicated to a good view of Lorde. I think we all felt the same, given that I was surrounded by other brave souls crouching but highly aware not to have their spots overtaken. Many of us would not fully sit on the ground wet with what I hope was water. As time passed, it was funny to see us all accept our fate and finally give ourselves a rest, while still remaining on alert. Remaining vigilant for the many people pushing through, we patiently waited. The art of concert etiquette and "hugging the wall" to get to where you're going allegedly died after COVID-19, or maybe it was always this way and we just don't remember life before the pandemic. Surrounding me were arguments over whose spot was whose and complaints about legs hurting. I entertained myself while waiting by watching the group next to me play "Guess Who?" My spot also improved because a mother and her son left. I think the son just wanted to know what it was like to “camp out” at barricade and didn't actually care to see Lorde. This softened the tension, at least for me. As the show began, chants of "LORDE" drowned out Flushing Meadows Corona Park. Appearing on the stage screens was some sort of vital signs monitor, revealing heart rate and blood pressure. The BP was nearly perfect, which, if it was reflecting the actual stats of Lorde, is beyond impressive for someone about to perform to the sea of people that were present for the show. Lorde comes out wearing EKG electrodes, or some sort of cardiac monitoring sensors, as the crowd bursts with excitement. There may have been a deeper meaning behind this opening, and at the risk of sounding clueless, if there was, it went right over my head. Looking it up before publishing this feels like cheating, so let's move on. The performance began with incredibly catchy, rhythmic electronic music playing alongside the lyrics, "Don't invest / Don't invest in me, I'm all alone," from an unreleased track that I am eagerly waiting for, as I couldn't help but move to this despite my promise to myself to stay focused on my review (a promise that you will see broken many times throughout this review; please take it as a sign of how poignant the performance was). As she sings "all alone," she approaches a DJ deck, her voice in a more electronically influenced style than I have typically heard from what I know of her genre-blending music. It seemed to be altered with some sort of vocal processing. Still, her voice, through what I believe is stylistic auto-tune, is a powerhouse. She then transitioned into her 2013 hit "Royals," with the processed vocals now removed. However, she cuts the song short on the lyric "fantasy," which, with the nostalgic feel of a Lorde performance, the blue hue that kept filling the screen, and a bit of an exhausted haze, is likely what this experience felt like to all of us. This transition from an unreleased song to a song over a decade old would serve as the introduction to a constant emotional push and pull that would persist throughout the rest of the performance. Then, an electro-pop transition filled the air. As soon as even a second of "What Was That" started playing, the park was filled with screams. On the screen, we can see close-ups of Lorde so clearly that I can see every bead of sweat on her face. The song built up with Lorde standing in the middle of the stage before moving to an interpretive dance with stiff movements between verses, moving to jumping all over the stage after the fan-favorite lyrics, "Baby, what was that?" We joined her in this release. Whoever said people don't dance at shows anymore has not seen Lorde live. I was starting to feel that electricity that I got a glimpse of watching her Glastonbury performance. That blue hue on the screens also momentarily left during “What Was That,” with the screens becoming clearer, allowing me to come out of my dream-like state and letting reality set in for a moment. Photo By @okaynicolita Following the excitement of "What Was That" was "Broken Glass," where Lorde threw herself into the music, adding to the emotional intensity that I felt was filling the room. Before moving to her next song, "Perfect Places," she checks in with the crowd. We all respond with ecstatic cheers. It seems the magic of seeing Lorde live had erased the complaints about crowd etiquette from not even fifteen minutes earlier. The lyrics "But when we're dancing, I'm alright" were a bit on the nose here. Here is when I noticed there were contemporary dancers. Lorde joins them, pouring herself into the movements. Despite all her jumping and thrashing, her voice is unshaken. The dancers are just as in sync with the performance, jerking their bodies perfectly on beat to the music. There was that push and pull in their movements, with flowing movements contrasted by rigid ones. Lorde opened her next song, "Shapeshifter," on all fours. A screen from a camera below her appears on the stage, revealing blue glitter on her hands, as she throws her body back and forth in what felt like a cathartic release. I have not heard this song before, but the lyrics "Visions of teenage innocence" hit close to home, as Lorde's music filled me with nostalgia for many versions of myself I remembered along the prior tracks. This only grew with the next song in her setlist, "Buzzcut Season," bringing me back to another time. The stage was filled with red lights as she sang, "I remember when your head caught flame." I have not listened to this song in a while and felt emotionally charged given its relevance. Any Lorde fans who haven't listened to her music in a while, I encourage you to revisit the lyrics of this one, especially if you are Gen Z, as they now take on new meaning beyond reminding us of a different time. The whole crowd sang along with "And I'll never go home again." Blank stares filled the faces of the dancers, reflecting the disillusionment that comes with really hearing the lyrics of the song as an adult for the first time. Next was another song I hadn't heard before, "Favourite Daughter." Though the dancers were remarkable throughout, this is where I felt they started to increasingly blend into Lorde's performance in a way that was indispensable to the show experience. Contrasting both the previous track and the song's painful lyrics was upbeat music. Lorde sang in an almost wailing way, and the dancers were displayed on the screen banging an unknown object. The emotional push and pull I felt was given a physical representation, as two dancers grabbed onto each other, doing a push-and-pull motion. Lorde acknowledges the scorching weather that took place that day, nodding to her next song, "The Louvre," as she talks about summer romance. The show's style changed a bit here. I had just finished making a note about how the production, though detailed, was honestly simple and well executed, when Lorde started getting literally lifted into the air on a giant box with an electronic screen. The crowd sang harmoniously to lyrics of summer love. This felt like a moment of light, accompanied by actual flashing lights that lit up the performance space. Though I intended to write only about the highlights, the performance itself was essentially an hour and a half of highlights. Realizing I could probably talk about this show forever, I've decided the remainder of this piece will not become a track-by-track breakdown of the setlist — which, admittedly, was never the intention, despite the fact that we're somehow 4 pages in already. Photo By Anna Downs Moving into "Hard Feelings," the vulnerability increased, with Lorde appearing again very close to the cameras that display onto the Gov Ball screens while embracing the dancers as she sang the lyrics, "'Til I'm so far away from you, far away from you, yeah." It is needless to say that it is a challenge to make a performance feel personal to a crowd of thousands of people at one of the biggest festivals in America, yet she did. Just when I thought it could not get more personal, I was again surprised as she followed this moving performance with "Oceanic Feeling." As she sang about water, what I believe was a drinking water fountain appeared on the screen display, zoomed in on Lorde watching the stream and running her hands through it in a mesmerizing moment. This was my first time hearing this song, so hearing the lyrics, "In the future, if I have a daughter, will she have my waist or my widow's peak? My dreamer's disposition or my wicked streak?" was a punch in the gut (in the best way possible). She slows her dancing as she sings, "I just had to breathe." Lorde's intentional choreography and staging choices beg the question of deeper meaning behind juxtapositions like holding a dancer as she sings, "So far away from you," during "Hard Feelings." Following "Oceanic Feeling," she checks on a possible situation of someone needing help in the crowd and tells us how this is the most nervous she has been for a show in a while, "partly because we have never done this show before, and partly because I am obsessed with you." She refers to the last time she was at Gov Ball around the release of Melodrama, asking, "Don't you feel like so much has changed in the last nine years?" "There is also so much that fucks me up. There is a loss of dignity that I feel there is. Our world feels increasingly unjust, and it feels harder and harder to arrive at your own definitions of beauty and the truth and what is real. But uh, I really feel that this is real." "If I may impart something that I have learned along the way, to combat all this, all of these fucked up forces in our world, I would say, show yourself…" "It's good to be vulnerable, you know. Let it out. Let it hang." That night, she led by example. Here came the biggest gut punch of the night. Following her speech on beauty standards, she sings "Liability" while standing the most still yet. Videos of Lorde's younger self displayed on her body. Aside from how moving the song itself is, I believe this struck me most given I had come into this thinking about younger me, how she would feel about me being at this show and getting to write about it. I thought of all the painful parts of girlhood and thought of her intensely as she sang, "The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy." I hoped to tell her things would be okay and realized I still carried her with me, just as Lorde displayed her younger self on her waist. Everyone waved their cellphone flashlights slowly in the air, though I admit I didn't join them in my awestruck state. Stuck in my head still days after the performance is “I do my best to meet her demands.” Returning back to this throughline of emotional push and pull, she goes from this moment of almost melancholy reflection to upbeat electronic sounds as she sings "Hammer," standing on a box as she sings the iconic lyrics, "Some days I'm a woman, some days I'm a man." Both her dancing and ours picked up again. It was as if the crowd had been compressed from the weight of that performance, and it had finally been released. Next was "Supercut." I wish I had more notes, but I had to dance, so take the absence as a sign that the show was good and both arms were needed. Lorde jumped right into “Teams.” She dances holding the dancers, as they become central to the performance again. Her voice is an absolute force from this track, and the crowd reflected that energy right back. This longtime fan favorite was followed by her putting on a jacket that shot red lasers as she sang "Man of the Year," which was immediately followed with Charli xcx's "girl, so confusing featuring lorde" emphasizing the themes of fluidity her lyrics have been alluding to. The moment Lorde sang the word "girl," the crowd erupted with shocking intensity. The immediate transition from "Man of the Year" to "girl, so confusing" draws on this push and pull, further illustrating the storytelling nature of the setlist. Even the order of songs felt like an intimate exploration of Lorde's mind and identity. Few artists can sing about some of the most heart-wrenching and relatable aspects of girlhood while somehow getting us all to dance to it. Towards the end of the night, Lorde finally performed the long-awaited "Green Light" (the song behind the title's dad joke). It was everything I had hoped for and more. There was not a moment of quiet or stillness around me, simply a sea of moving bodies and screams, which somehow made the music better. Even in my recordings, I can't help but smile, though this is something that would typically be irritating. Lorde closed the show with the song I waited most for, "Ribs." She asked the crowd to give her everything, so we did. I FaceTimed a close childhood friend and threw my hands in the air for the remainder of the performance, hoping she could still see through the shaking screen. I could not help but look at her for a moment as Lorde sang, "You're the only friend I need" and "laughing 'til our ribs get tough." Then, of course, the moment demanded my attention again. After that emotional rollercoaster and life-changing experience, Lorde left us with the most touching message yet: "Let's go Knicks!"

Interview by Sydney Cristall | June 11 2026 Stanford Media Day - Photos provided by Dara Adeyemi and Nilson Sports The first time Dara Adeyemi bet on himself, football was not part of the plan. There were no scholarship offers. No transfer portal. No Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) opportunities. Just two parents willing to leave behind everything they had built in Nigeria for the uncertainty of a new life in England. Long before Stanford, before Division I football and before his story became tied to the evolving business of college athletics, Adeyemi’s life began in a small two-bedroom apartment in England after his family immigrated in search of greater educational and social opportunities. The transition forced his parents to rebuild their lives from scratch. His mother, once a professor and teacher in Nigeria, took a job as a cleaner. His father, a rising banker, worked days at the post office and nights in care work. Together, they sacrificed comfort, status and stability in pursuit of something bigger for their children. For Adeyemi, resilience was never something discussed in motivational speeches or locker room slogans. It was modelled for him every single day. Adeyemi Family - Photos provided by Dara Adeyemi and Nilson Sports “Seeing them take that professional hit purely for the sake of giving us a better educational, social and life experience meant a lot to me,” he said. Growing up, hard work was expected. Discipline was expected. Accountability was expected. One lesson from his father followed him everywhere. “One of my favourite quotes from my father is, ‘The results will show,’” Adeyemi said. “Whenever he caught us slacking off, he would look at us and say, ‘The results will show.’” At the time, it felt like a lesson about homework and responsibility. Years later, it became the philosophy that carried him through uncertainty, grief, setbacks and the constant process of proving himself in spaces he was never expected to succeed. Because if there is one defining theme throughout Adeyemi’s story, it is resilience through reinvention. The willingness to keep betting on himself before knowing whether things would actually work out. Growing up in England, sports were never initially viewed as the destination. Education came first. Young Adeyemi - Photos provided by Dara Adeyemi and Nilson Sports Still, standing significantly taller than most kids his age, he was following one questioningly. Do you play basketball? Eventually, curiosity won out. “I got tired of people asking me if I played basketball,” he said. “So I said, ‘You know what? I’m going to play basketball.” What began casually accelerated almost immediately. Within a year, Adeyemi was competing at a high level. Soon afterward, he represented England and Great Britain internationally, travelling across Europe to compete against elite players while seeing parts of the world he never imagined he would experience as a teenager. Adeyemi Representing Great Britain Basketball - Photos provided by Dara Adeyemi and Nilson Sports Basketball opened academic doors as well. The sport helped him earn a scholarship to one of the top academic schools in the United Kingdom, making him the first student there to receive both academic and athletic scholarships simultaneously. From the outside, it looked like basketball had become his future. Internally, Adeyemi viewed it differently. “Basketball had always been a means to an end,” he said. The game gave him opportunities. It expanded his perspective. It gave him experiences and structure. But more importantly, it reinforced something deeper: sometimes betting on yourself means pursuing opportunities even when you do not fully know where they are leading you. Then life shifted again. Around that same period, Adeyemi’s father passed away. The loss changed everything emotionally. It also complicated the next major decision before him. One of his coaches encouraged him to attend prep school in the United States rather than immediately pursue university in the UK. The opportunity sounded exciting, but terrifying. Sports had never been viewed as the guaranteed path forward in his family, and now he would be moving thousands of miles away from home to chase something completely uncertain. Still, uncertainty had never stopped him before. “I love new things,” Adeyemi said. “I love new experiences. I see everything as an opportunity to learn.” So he boarded a plane to Connecticut and enrolled at The Taft School. The adjustment hit immediately. “A three-hour trip and a 3,000-mile trip are two very different things,” he said. For the first time, he was entirely on his own. Different country. Different school system. Different culture. His family stayed home while he tried to build a life in an environment that felt completely unfamiliar. At times, the loneliness was overwhelming. But resilience had already become part of who he was long before football entered his life. Then football entered it almost accidentally. Basketball season had not yet started, and because extracurricular participation was required at Taft, his roommates encouraged him to join the football team. Adeyemi initially viewed it as something fun to try before basketball season arrived. Coaches saw something much bigger. The first time the football coach saw him, Adeyemi was standing in shorts and a tank top. One look at his frame was enough. “I think we can find a spot for you on the team,” the coach told him. At first, football felt completely foreign. Most players around him had spent years learning terminology, schemes and concepts that had become second nature. Adeyemi was trying to learn the rules while simultaneously competing against athletes who had played their entire lives. “I despise being worse at things than other people,” he admitted. That frustration quickly became fuel. The physical side came faster than the mental side. Understanding formations, reading protections and learning football strategy in real time became the hardest adjustment. “Understanding the rules of the game, understanding plays, understanding offensive and defensive structures, it was definitely difficult,” he said. But rather than discouraging him, the learning curve pushed him harder. By January of that year, Adeyemi made another massive bet on himself. He decided he wanted to play Division I football. The timeline sounded unrealistic. He had only a few months to develop enough for college coaches to consider offering him a scholarship seriously. For months, Adeyemi woke up at 6 a.m. every day to train. He studied YouTube clips, worked through drills repeatedly and spent hours trying to catch up mentally in a sport most players had spent their entire lives learning. The work paid off. Within a short period of time, Adeyemi earned seven Division I scholarship offers and committed to Bucknell University. Adeyemi at Bucknell - Photos provided by Dara Adeyemi and Nilson Sports For the first time, football stopped feeling theoretical. It became real. The transition to college football introduced a completely new set of challenges. Adeyemi arrived physically gifted, but still far behind mentally, in a sport most players had spent their entire lives learning. He redshirted his freshman season to understand the game fully. Eventually, he earned playing time and began building confidence before another challenge emerged. Bucknell’s coaching staff approached him about switching from defensive line to offensive line only weeks before the season began. The move demanded another reinvention. Learning offensive football required an entirely different mental approach, and suddenly Adeyemi found himself playing catch-up once again in an unfamiliar environment. Still, he viewed the situation the same way he viewed nearly every obstacle in his life: another opportunity to prove himself. “I’m always hungry for an opportunity,” he said. Weeks later, he earned a starting role. Then came another setback. During practice, Adeyemi experienced severe cramping that eventually led to extensive medical testing. Doctors discovered heart irregularities alongside complications connected to his sickle cell trait and other health concerns. Suddenly, football became secondary. The diagnosis forced him away from the field for weeks and introduced uncertainty that extended far beyond sports. “There were moments where I asked myself, ‘What’s the point?’” he admitted. At the same time, people around him encouraged him to step away from football entirely and prioritize his long-term health. But once again, resilience and belief in himself carried him forward. He returned later that season, put together a strong film, and eventually entered the transfer portal in search of a better developmental environment after experiencing constant coaching turnover at Bucknell. Publicly, the transfer portal often appears glamorous. Commitment graphics flood social media. NIL headlines dominate conversations surrounding college football. Adeyemi quickly learned the reality was far more complicated. “There’s definitely a lot of smoke and mirrors,” he said. Programs sold visions. Coaches made promises. Some opportunities felt genuine while others felt transactional. “I definitely entered with the mentality that I might need to come back,” he admitted. But despite the uncertainty, Adeyemi trusted himself enough to take the risk anyway. At the same time, navigating NIL opportunities forced him to rethink his value as an athlete. “It was interesting attaching a numerical value to my work,” he said. Yet rather than changing his perspective negatively, the process strengthened his confidence. He knew he was still developing. He knew he was still learning the game. But he also believed that his growth trajectory, work ethic, and resilience set him apart from others. Eventually, Stanford emerged as the opportunity that stood above the rest. Stanford Media Day - Photos provided by Dara Adeyemi and Nilson Sports Not because it represented comfort, but because it represented growth. Elite academics. Elite football. Elite opportunity. Another challenge. Another unfamiliar environment. Another moment requiring faith before certainty. Then shortly after arriving at Stanford, Adeyemi’s health challenges intensified again. Additional testing revealed his heart condition had worsened, eventually leading doctors to discover a pulmonary embolism. The diagnosis carried even deeper emotional weight because it mirrored the condition connected to his father’s passing years earlier. Once again, football paused. Once again, uncertainty entered his life. And once again, Adeyemi refused to let uncertainty define him. “If the worst thing in my life is having to take medication and go to school at Stanford for free,” he said, “then who am I to be anything but happy?” Throughout his journey, Adeyemi consistently redirected attention away from himself and toward the people who helped him along the way. His mother. His sisters. Coaches. Friends. Teammates. Families who welcomed him during holidays when he could not go home. “It truly is the definition of it takes a village,” he said. That village helped carry him through every transition. From Nigeria to England. From basketball to football From Bucknell to Stanford. Every chapter of Dara Adeyemi’s life has required him to move toward uncertainty before knowing what waited on the other side. Every chapter required resilience. Every chapter required him to bet on himself long before anyone else fully could. And through every transition, one lesson remained unchanged. The results will show.

Written by Camila Molina | June 6, 2026 | Photo Courtesy of Grandstand Media | Photo by Charles Reagan Festival safety does not end at the security gates. Here are three ways to stay safe and support your festival community at Governors Ball this weekend and throughout festival season, featuring a short interview with William Perry, co-founder of harm reduction non-profit This Must Be The Place. 1. The Hydration Stations. Several free hydration stations are located throughout the festival. Click here to view a festival map. It is recommended you bring an empty water bottle from home to take advantage of the hydration stations. Festival goers may walk thousands of steps in the heat. Hydration is key to preventing serious health issues. 2. Bring Earplugs. Wearing earplugs can protect your ears during concerts. However, if you forget your earplugs, you can stop by guest services for a pair. 3. Harm Reduction - This Must Be the Place Along with protecting yourself, there are also many ways to protect your community. Look on the map for “CP” to locate This Must Be the Place, a nonprofit distributing free naloxone along with key safety information on how to use it. Naloxone is an opioid antagonist. It can be administered as a nasal spray during an opioid overdose as a potentially life saving safety measure. Stop by their booth to get free naloxone and to learn how to administer it, how to identify signs of an overdose, and what to do after you’ve administered it. One of the founders of This Must Be the Place, William Perry, took the time to do a brief interview Friday afternoon regarding festival safety. Q & A disclaimer: This transcript is lightly edited for grammar and clarity. Q: About how many people typically come through these booths for Gov Ball? How many people have you seen so far this morning? Right now it is about 1 p.m. on Friday. A: So 1 p.m. doors have been open for ninety minutes, and I’d say that we’ve probably seen about one hundred and fifty to two hundred people already, as you see, they line up. A lot of people [line up] especially because Gov Ball is really good about promoting our presence, so people see it on social media, and this becomes one of their first stops on their way in. They’ve got it, just a place that they need to stop by, especially at the beginning of the festival. Yeah so, engagement is great, and this is our 4th Gov Ball. It’s gotten better and better each year. Our goal always is to try to 5% of the crowd, and that means if we can get to 5% of the crowd, it means that one in twenty are walking around with Narcan [a brand name for the generic medication naloxone] on them. That’s a pretty safe environment, extremely safe, I would say. And so that’s our goal throughout the weekend, is always 5% and most times we go over that goal, sometimes we reach 10% depending on the festival. This is one that I’m sure we’ll go over that goal that we set for ourselves. Q: Thank you. That’s great. And what’s the most common question you get at the booth? A: I think the most common question that we get is, what would happen if this weren’t an overdose, and I gave this stuff to someone, which is a very simple answer, which is nothing. We know this, because, well, A, it’s my job to know it, but naloxone has been around since the seventies. It’s been used in hospitals for fifty whatever years, and so they know that it only does one thing, which is [to] cover up those opioid receptors. Therefore, if it’s not an overdose, if it’s a different medical condition, and someone does misdiagnose, it’s never going to hurt them. That’s one of the most reassuring things I think to people, because that lets them know, like, “hey, I can jump in and help somebody.” That doesn’t mean they need to, like, dive in at the first moment that there’s something going on, and immediately Narcan someone. But they have that reassurance that it’s never going to hurt them. And so that’s really, like, one of the number one, I wouldn’t say, like, myths to bust. But also, if you want to know about the other myth that we do have to bust, there’s a prevailing thought that people are violent when they wake up. That’s just simply not true. And so we get to explain to them a more compassionate way to engage with a person who may be coming back from that situation, and how to navigate a very serious situation with care and compassion, and make sure that everyone’s safe. And there’s a transfer that happens to an actual medical team, and the person, the person gets to live. Q: Thank you, and you guys give a lot of great information [at the booth], but what are the signs of an overdose, in an environment like this, that festival goers who want to help protect their community should look out for? A: And well I always say, you know, like the first thing you’re looking for is someone who’s falling asleep in a strange time, place, or position, something that makes you say, “what’s going on?” Because that’s what opioids do, is they make a person become drowsy, something that’s a little bit more than they’ve had too much to drink, or they possibly are dehydrated. You know, and maybe those symptoms start off the same, but that’s when you go in and check. What opioids do is they depress the respiratory system, and I explain it in more simple terms. As I say, they’re falling into such a deep sleep that they’re forgetting to breathe. I don’t know, I try to break things down as simply as possible. That’s not really scientific, however, that is what’s going on. And so you see, like blueing or graying of the lips, depending on a person’s complexion. The same thing happens with the eyes. If you can look at their eyes, you see where most drugs dilate the pupils. Anything with opioids in it, causes those pupils to be little tiny pinpoints. That drowsy next to those pinpoint pupils, and that lack of breathing, those are standard overdose symptoms. From there, it’s time to apply the naloxone, which is simply a nasal spray. So, you take it out of the package and you just put it up their nose. It’s like Flonase that saves a life. You put it up their nose to spray, turn them on their side just in case they get sick when they wake up, and then you just start watching. Watching the clock and [the person who may be overdosing]. If it’s an overdose, they’re gonna wake up somewhere between ninety seconds and about 2 minutes or so. Q: Thank you so much. I won’t take up too much of your time. Last question, is there anything else you want to leave me with about safety at Gov Ball, or I guess leave me and anyone who reads this? A: I think the important thing is just keep your friends close. And also this is a huge festival, but for this weekend it’s a community too, and like any. And even if no naloxone is used at this festival, everyone’s going home to a community, and this is just a way to keep your community safer. It’s this very little thing that you just throw in your bag, and hopefully you forget about. But then one day somebody might cry for help. And you’re that person with the exact remedy for that help. And you get to send someone back home to their family and their loved ones, because you have it, and that’s what this is really all about. And we live in some troubled and fractured times, but this is a way of being a part of your community and really just doing your part to help out.

Interview by Christina Winnegar | May 25 2026 The purpose came before the lights did. Sneakers scraping against the pavement outside. The sound of a basketball dribbling in a driveway down the street. The distant sound of laughter carried across the stretch of Nickens Court while the California burned bright across Orangevale. For Kai Wallin, childhood did not happen inside one house. Years of growth, laughter and love unfolded across an entire court. Family all connected by the same stretch of pavement that became the center of nearly every memory he carries in his purpose today. Long before he became a Division I football player, navigating the transfer portal across the web of Power Four programs, Wallin was nothing more than a kid running between houses, growing up surrounded by people who made family feel less like a concept and more like the why behind it all. Nearly 40 years before Wallin was born, his grandparents purchased a large plot of land in Orangevale, California, and built what eventually became Nickens Court, named after the family. Eventually, four homes occupied what was once a plot of land. That environment became the foundation underneath nearly everything Wallin would later become. “I think mainly it was just the core principles of family first,” he said. “Take care of those that took care of you.” It is the philosophy that still follows him to this day, even after years of going through the motions of constantly moving between cities, conferences and locker rooms. Because if there is one defining theme throughout Wallin’s story, it is becoming comfortable with the uncomfortable. At nearly every stage of his story, from the early days in Orangevale, to the present day at San Diego State and everything in between. He had to relearn environments, rebuild relationships and reintroduce himself to entirely new groups of people. But long before the routines of football forced him into unfamiliar spaces, life had already begun preparing him for it. When he was growing up, his father traveled frequently for work, sometimes for extended periods—which he credits with instilling in him a sense of responsibility early, not through speeches or pressure, but through the circumstances. That maturity accelerated after his family moved away from Orangevale into Sacramento following his fifth-grade year. For Wallin, the adjustment felt immediate. Years later, another major change arrived. Jesuit High School. An all-boys Catholic school where many students had spent years growing up together long before Wallin ever arrived on campus. However, he learned quickly how to observe and adapt quietly. The culture felt unfamiliar almost immediately, the change of wearing uniforms compared to not having to while attending public school and the mandatory mass obligations. Still, through it all, the experience ended up shaping him far more than he realized in the moment. Socially, Jesuits forced him to become independent. But rather than resisting the discomfort, he learned to sit in it. That ability to enter unfamiliar environments without panicking would eventually become one of the most essential tools in his football career. Especially once football itself developed into something serious. Growing up playing multiple sports, he kept football off-limits until high school due to a rule his mother set: no tackle football before then. By the time he finally stepped onto the field, the years of anticipation exploded into accelerated success. “It was something that I had literally been waiting my whole childhood to be able just to go out and play and just see what it was about,” Wallin reflected. His previous athletic background helped him adjust quickly to the competitive demands of the game. The list of basketball, baseball and any other sport that taught him how to compete, the art of processing situations with little to no transitional time. Football simply became the sport where all of the different mindset aspects finally connected into talent. Still, even as football became more central to his life, his athletic career never followed the traditional blueprint. Following the conclusion of his high school career, Wallin entered American River College at only 17 years old, expecting a quieter developmental period. Instead, junior college (JUCO) football delivered one of the biggest reality checks of his life. At JUCO, football stopped feeling recreational and took on a deeper sentiment. The locker room included a variety of players from different walks of life: fathers trying to provide for their children, military veterans attempting to rebuild their careers, and players driving hours for early-morning workouts while balancing it all, all in the hope of a better chance. “I think seeing it firsthand, seeing guys just full breakdown, that you can feel people pour their blood, sweat and tears into the game,” Wallin said. “Being a young guy coming from a cushy private school where things were handed to me and coming from that and being thrown into the fire, just sitting back and observing, you know, as I said, I came in thinking, okay, this is development. I’m going to get better, I’m not gonna sit in the back. But I’m going to watch the guys who have been here and see how it is supposed to look, and all the expectations I had about what I would see didn't happen. My mind was kind of just blown.” The experience changed his perspective almost immediately; the grind for development quickly became one of the most important yet unique chapters in his development. Wallin entered the season believing he would likely redshirt and develop physically, but coaches approached him during fall camp with a different message entirely. It was his time. His team needed him. “Being told you’re somebody we need to step up. We believe in you, and you just have to show it; nothing should be handed to you. But this is your opportunity, this is your ticket,” he remembered. The moment accelerated everything. Suddenly, 17-year-old Wallin, competing against grown men, had to mature quickly both on and off the field. The season ultimately proved productive enough to attract national recruiting attention, and his JUCO head coach’s encouragement of the program eventually led him to the University of Nebraska. For the first time in his life, football felt fully professional, fully pursuable. The expectations were higher, the pressure even higher, and the locker room environment felt relentless. Perhaps most importantly, that very room became the first where he truly began to learn what leadership in college football was supposed to feel like. Once he arrived on campus and connected with the coaching staff led by Matt Rhule, the decision became clear. More specifically, the defensive line coach, Terrance Knighton. For Wallin Knighton became far more than just his position coach; he grew to be one of the most influential mentors of his game. “On the field, I think [the most important chapter in his development] was when I got to Nebraska, with my d-line coach, Terrance Knighton,” he reflected. “I was a very raw and young player going in there, and he taught me so much about the game of football that just allowed me to slow the game down and really just understand what my position is and every facet of the game.” Knighton challenged Wallin to think deeper about offensive concepts, tendencies and situational football. Small details that became impactful in understanding the why behind play-calling mattered just as much as the physical reaction to them. But while coaches shaped his development on the field, the veteran players inside Nebraska’s locker room helped shape him off it. He most frequently points to Ty Robinson, Nash Hutmacher and Jimari Butler as among the most influential teammates he encountered throughout his journey. What stood out was not simply their talent but the way they carried themselves. The younger version of Wallin arrived in Lincoln, Nebraska, still chasing individual validation in many ways. Like most younger players making the transition from JUCO to a bigger game such as the Big Ten Conference, he focused heavily on immediate results, instant gratification and proving himself as quickly as possible. Ty Robinson changed that perspective. “100% I think Ty Robinson was the most impactful vet that I had, and it was just something so small as not putting yourself first,” he reflected. “I was a young, naive kid who was just incapable at the time of seeing the bigger picture.” The moment with lasting impact was not public; Robinson had pulled Wallin aside in the locker room and challenged his approach to the game. Since then, the lesson has stayed with him through every stop afterward. After his two years at Nebraska, he had found himself facing another transition. Only this time, the theme of uncertainty felt much heavier. Coaching changes had begun reshaping the program's future. Nebraska’s defensive coordinator and defensive line coach eventually departed for Florida State, forcing the difficult conversations about what comes next in his career. By then, he had already grown significantly as both a player and a person. Nebraska had taught him the fundamentals of leadership, slowing the game down mentally and how to fit into part of something much bigger than himself. But it also introduced him to another side of college football that many people outside the sport hear about in headlines but never really see. The uncertainty with the business side. The constant reshuffling that now defines modern college athletics. When Wallin decided to enter the transfer portal in hopes of landing an opportunity, he did so with a far different understanding of the game than he once had as a 17-year-old arriving at JUCO. What he did not fully realize yet was just how mentally exhausting navigating the portal itself could become, particularly without representation. Publicly, the transfer portal often appears polished with front-facing media; edited declaration graphics, commitment releases, highlight tapes and fresh-start narratives written in social media captions. But behind the scenes, he had experienced something far less glamorous. At the time, he had navigated much of the progress without an agent, relying heavily on relationships, previous coaches and his own instincts while making career-impacting decisions in real time. The instability became apparent quickly. One moment, opportunities felt concrete; the next, they disappeared entirely. Wallin specifically recalled believing Arizona State was becoming a serious possibility in his next chapter. Relationships with coaches were strong. Connections existed in the roster. The direction felt clear until less than 24 hours before a scheduled visit, when everything took a turn. Eligibility changes allowed another player to return, and suddenly, Arizona State had no room. For him, moments like that stripped away many public misconceptions about the portal entirely. “You know, I’m [now] in a blessed position. There are hundreds of other guys who find greener grass in the other pasture,” he said. “But, I think that it is a huge misconception that if you just get in the portal, you’ll get out in the place you want to be. That does not happen for a large majority of guys that get in.” The experience with the portal changed the way Wallin viewed the logistics of pursuing a football career altogether. The portal was no longer only about finding a better football situation. It became centered around trust; in relationships, those guiding you, in understanding that one decision, one phone call or one roster shift should redirect the course of a career. Eventually, Oregon State emerged as the place that felt right. Not because the process had suddenly come easy, but because familiarity mattered. Head coach Trent Bray had previously recruited Wallin out of JUCO, and the opportunity to return to the West Coast, closer to home, carried the emotional weight, too. After a time of uncertainty, he chose to believe in the relationships and those who had believed in him first. “I believe in Trent Bray. I believed in him two years ago. I still believe in him now, and his resume spoke volumes, and that was the biggest driving factor [in choosing Oregon State],” he said. And in many ways, that mindset would continue to shape every major career decision that followed. By the time he arrived in Corvallis, Oregon, the constant transitions no longer felt foreign. At that point in his career, adapting had already become second nature. Still, Oregon State felt different almost immediately, in the best way. There was comfort in returning closer to California, in the familiarity with the coaching staff, and in stepping into a role that felt larger than trying to prove where he belonged on a roster. For the first time in years, things appeared to be stabilizing. Wallin quickly grew close with teammates, particularly within Oregon State’s edge room. Off the field, the group became tightly connected, spending time together outside football facilities in ways that made the relationships feel genuine beyond the game itself. On the field, Oregon State also represented an opportunity for Wallin to apply everything he had learned at previous stops fully. Nebraska had sharpened his understanding of football mentally. JUCO had toughened him emotionally. Now, Oregon State became the place where he believed everything was finally beginning to come together. Then came Fresno State. Second game of the season. A freak injury occurred in the midst of a pileup. And suddenly, the momentum he had spent building disappeared in a single moment. For the first time in his athletic career, Wallin faced a significant injury that forced him off the field entirely. Mentally, the adjustment became harder than the physical rehab in itself. All offseason, he had prepared beside teammates, expecting to show up with them once the day arrived. Instead, he found himself watching from the sidelines while everyone else continued to advance without him. The frustration was expected to couple with the injury, which hit quickly, but alongside that was the perspective. Thankfully, the turnaround for the rehab timeline was relatively quick. But for Wallin, the injury still forced him into unfamiliar mental territory. Football had always been action, but then he was stuck watching instead. Instead of letting that moment define him negatively, he allowed the injury to become another turning point in his growth as a leader. Rather than distancing himself from the team, He leaned deeper into it. “Let’s not forget why we’re here. This isn’t the me show. This is like we’re here to win games, and if I’m out, if I’m down, if I can’t get in the game like somebody else, this is their opportunity, why would I not help them maximize theirs?” he explained. Wallin spent extra time with younger players, met more frequently with coaches, helped study opponents and identify details that could help teammates gain an advantage during games and practices. The sentiment reflected how dramatically his perspective had evolved since arriving at Nebraska years earlier as a younger player still chasing validation. Now, football looked different to him, and so did the role of leadership. The older he became, the more it became clear that his impact was not always directly tied to production. Sometimes, leadership meant refusing to disappear when things no longer benefited you personally. The mentality became a key point throughout his rehabilitation. Oregon State’s training staff helped guide him through the process physically, but mentally, he relied on teammates and the surrounding culture to stay grounded during the recovery period. When Wallin returned against Appalachian State weeks later, the emotion of elation overwhelmed him almost immediately. The return mattered. However, the stability he had hoped for at Oregon State did not last much longer. Coaching changes hit the program midseason, creating uncertainty surrounding the future yet again. By then, moreover, his understanding of the transfer portal had completely changed from the first time he entered it. The first round introduced chaos, the second introduced clarity. He understood now how fragile opportunities could become, how quickly situations could shift, how dangerous it could be for players to enter the portal, expecting guaranteed success simply because social media made it appear glamorous. Wallin had already lived through the emotional instability the portal could create. He had already experienced visits falling through, opportunities disappearing and plans changing overnight. But this time, one major difference existed: He no longer had to navigate it alone. During the second portal process, Wallin began working with BT Thompson and the team at Nilson Sports, relationships that quickly became far more personal than transactional. “Alec [Nilson Agent], BT [Thompson], and all the guys do a great job checking in. It’s not even about football most of the time; there are periods in the offseason where it’s about football and the business side of things. But, you know, they check in with constant communication, which is great,” he said. “So I signed with them, got in the portal, kind of another but not as big of a roller coaster, because I had a team that had my back throughout the whole thing.” For someone whose career had become defined by instability, constant movement in search of opportunities, and transitions, trust mattered deeply. So when San Diego State emerged as a serious possibility, Wallin approached the opportunity differently than he would have earlier in his career. The football side mattered, of course, alongside the move to the Pac-12 Conference, but what stood out most was something harder to quantify in the justification for leaping. Trust. Despite having no prior relationship with San Diego State’s coaching staff, Wallin immediately felt genuine belief during the recruiting process. Conversations felt earnest, and the vision for both him and where he would fit into the program felt clear. And after years of navigating uncertainty, that feeling carried enormous weight. “I think that today being able to say that you trust somebody, especially saying you trust a coach on a team [San Diego State] that you have no contact with, that’s super rare,” Wallin said. Then came another unexpected full-circle moment. His younger sister already attended San Diego State. After years of football taking him farther from home, the sport had somehow led him back to family, back to the roots that shaped him. Off the field, the transfer has given him something he spent years chasing without fully realizing it: Stability. Years ago, he arrived at Nebraska as a young player seeking guidance after JUCO—the one trying to understand how to carry himself inside a locker room. Veterans like Robinson, Hutmacher, and Butler chose to invest time in him when he was still learning to navigate the pressure, expectations, and emotional weight that came with the game. Back then, he needed the direction. Now, younger players look toward him for it instead. For Wallin, the evolution did not happen overnight. It happened through every transition from Jesuit to the Pac-12. Whether it was perspective, leadership, relationships, or trust, every stop left something behind, and every locker room added something new. And slowly with that, the young player, constantly searching for stability, became the veteran player capable of providing it for others. Now, entering a new chapter at San Diego State, there is a certain full-circle feeling to the role he has stepped into. Because somewhere between Orangevale and San Diego, between being the young player searching for guidance and becoming the veteran now offering it, Wallin realized the most important traits he carried from the origin at Nickens Court were never physical at all. Faith. Family. Trust. The understanding that no one reaches the next chapter in their story alone. Years ago, a veteran once pulled him aside and showed him what it means to lead, how to carry himself and how to become part of something much more meaningful than individual success. Now, entering another season, another chapter, he finds himself doing the same for players arriving behind him – athletes trying to navigate the very unfamiliarities he once did. Not because someone asked him to, but because someone had done it for him first. And maybe that underneath is what football ultimately became for Kai Wallin. Not simply a journey to be told across programs, conferences, or cities. But a passing of the Torch of Faith. An inner conviction that illuminates his path during difficult times and relays the guidance once given to him by the people who helped shape a kid from Nickens Court into a man now trusted to guide the next one in his path. For any press/NIL/ or brand inquiries for Kai Wallin, you can contact Nilson Sports.

Interview by Ariana Ottrando | June 3 2026 Harrison Feinberg Credit: Jim Pierce The hallways are quiet at Cabot Physical Education Center on a Monday morning in February — just days before the Northeastern University Huskies’ 2026 Coastal Athletic Association (CAA) baseball season starts and the preseason buzz fades into white noise. CAA Player of the Year and Tournament MVP (2025). Top Male Athlete of Northeastern Athletics (2025). CAA Preseason Player of the Year. The No. 6 outfielder in college baseball by D1 Baseball. The list goes on. Inside his office, head coach Mike Glavine chuckles. “He's a coach's dream,” says Glavine. “And when your best player is your hardest worker, you have something special.” It’s the kind of thing that coaches say about players who have been that from the beginning. Harrison Feinberg wasn’t — at least, not right away. A native of Greenwich, CT, Feinberg first picked up a bat and glove around three years old in tee-ball. Through trials of other sports from football to basketball, Feinberg dabbled in many sports as a kid, but none ever measured up to his love and devotion to baseball. “By high school, I figured out baseball was my sport — just loved it. [I] loved it every day,” he said. “Just loved the game.” The outfielder played three years of high school varsity baseball at King School in Stamford, Connecticut, due to the pandemic, and made an impact from the jump. As a freshman, Feinberg batted .400 with two home runs (HRs). As a senior, he batted a whopping .525, with six HRs, 16 runs batted in (RBIs) and 20 runs scored. And the accolades reflected that, from All-League recognition for both his sophomore and senior seasons, to rankings of No. 6 player overall in Connecticut and the No. 2 outfielder, according to Perfect Game. “I didn't really face good competition, didn't play travel ball… [I] just went to showcases and that's where I got recruited from,” he said. So, it’s no surprise that Feinberg committed to play Division I (DI) at the University of Southern California (USC) early in his high school career. The real surprise is that the decorated and statewide-recognized Feinberg played zero minutes as a DI freshman in 2022. A college freshman getting minimal play time in comparison to the upperclassmen and veteran players is not untraditional in the ladder of DI sports. However, with a track record like Feinberg’s, it is unexpected that he wouldn’t see the field or the plate at all for a full season. On the other side of the country, making no progress towards his development, Feinberg was at a standstill. “Obviously, [I] struggled my first year, didn't play,” said Feinberg. “[I] had to make the decision to transfer, and obviously that was tough just starting over again.” By the conclusion of his freshman year, Feinberg packed up his dorm and returned home to the East Coast. He entered the transfer portal, searching for the next DI opportunity, and landed a spot on the Danbury Westerners of the New England Collegiate Baseball League (NECBL) for summer ball. In 29 games played, Feinberg put up 26 hits, 14 RBIs, and six HRs. Then, Coach Glavine came into the picture. “We had an opportunity to look at his numbers and talk to some people about him, and then we got on the phone and talked to him a little bit to see if he was interested,” said Glavine on Feinberg’s commitment process to Northeastern. “I just really liked the way he played. He looked like, literally, a dog out there, so to speak. Playing like a maniac all over the field and flying around. I got to see his batting practice and watch some power there. And then it was just trying to get him to come here.” Glavine recounts those early conversations with Feinberg four years ago, seeing his potential and assets to improve both Northeastern’s program and his own development. “We're not Power Four (P4). We don't have P4 facilities and all the things that he was coming from [at USC],” said Glavine. “But what we do have is a great culture, and it'd be an opportunity for him to play — and that's what he really wanted to do.” In choosing his new school and team, there were plenty of reasons why Northeastern presented as a perfect fit on paper for Feinberg. “They had a good track record of success in developing guys, like [a] bunch of big leaguers that come through this program,” he said. “Being closer to home as well. Obviously USC was all the way across the country — [I] got a little homesick, I guess. It's [a] different style of baseball here too. More of my game.” As for the culture, Feinberg was right to trust Coach Glavine’s word about the dynamic at Northeastern. “Everyone's in it for each other. Just developing, working hard every day, being a lot more tight-knit than those other bigger programs that are just loaded with talent, but they don't have to play together,” said Feinberg. “Coach Glavine's built a winning culture [and] instills it in us every day. It's definitely something I love to play for.” Harrison Feinberg Credit: Jim Pierce So Feinberg started fresh as a Northeastern Husky for the 2023 season and certainly made his mark as a rookie. In his debut season, he started 39 out of 45 total appearances including all seven of Northeastern’s postseason games that year. He recorded 37 hits, 27 RBIs and 10 HRs — the latter of which broke a previous program record for rookie home runs dating back to 2012 (8). But things took a turn in his sophomore year (2024) with only 28 games played and 19 starts. Naturally, with less play time, Feinberg’s stats took a hit as well: 18 hits, 17 RBIs and three HRs. Defensively, his putouts (PO) dropped from 66 to 35 for a .897 field percentage. On all accounts, not the upwards trajectory that one would expect. At no particular fault of his own, Feinberg just didn’t see the field as much in his second year and it’s extra difficult to stay consistent without repetition. “Maybe I wasn't playing him enough, and some of his struggles, maybe at times in-game, were just not getting consistent at-bats,” said Glavine. “Some guys just aren't going to play every game, and maybe they should have been. I think that was the biggest thing because the work ethic was always there. “His path here hasn't been a straight line, like he didn't have immediate success, and he had to work for it. And I'll say this, he's one of the hardest-working players I've ever coached. He is in the weight room all the time, and he's running. He is full-go every time he practices, like he doesn't take a day off of practice. I have a tremendous amount of respect about how he goes about preparing and playing.” Feinberg’s talent always spoke for itself. But it wasn’t until he got the full-time opportunity to play that both his talent and hard work came into the spotlight and shattered new ceilings. Enter junior year (2025). Harrison Feinberg Credit: Jim Pierce To call Feinberg’s junior season a breakout would be an understatement. He started in 58 of 58 games, posting career highs in 12 categories. He slashed .367/.455/.715 with 37 stolen bases, tying the single-season program record in steals. He put up 23 multi-hit games with 76 total hits, and a team-high 67 RBIs and 18 homers. He also recorded a team-high 18 multi-RBI games, including a six-RBI game in the CAA Championship against the University of North Carolina Wilmington (UNCW) (5/24 – 3-for-4, 2 HR, 2B). As for defense, he contributed 107 PO and a whopping zero errors for a perfect 1.000 FLD%. The accolades that followed were endless: 2025 National Collegiate Baseball Writers Association (NCBWA) First Team All-American, 2025 All-CAA First Team, 2025 All-Eastern College Athletic Conference (ECAC), and many more. In addition to playing consistently, Feinberg pointed to his confidence-building and off-the-field training as other attributing factors to the success of his junior year. “I think just getting my body in as good of shape as possible heading into the year [was] definitely one of the keys to success, and then obviously just knowing that I can achieve what I believe I can,” he said. “I knew that I was talented, but it didn't really show [in] my first couple seasons. Just having the confidence going into the year and just trying to prove something was definitely a huge thing for me… I'm just proud that I've been able to develop myself into who I am today. I'm proud of what I've accomplished.” By the end of the 2025 season, all eyes were on Feinberg. He was showered with awards and recognition at the collegiate level. Yet, Major League Baseball (MLB) scouts were still doubtful Feinberg was ready for the pros and he went undrafted in the 2025 class. “I didn't even think we were going to have him back, so clearly the pro game doesn't value him enough yet,” said Glavine. “So he's going to go out and do it again. And [Feinberg] knows that, and he wants it, and he will. I believe it 100%... I want them to value him as a real baseball player — real meaning he can do it all. He's a complete ballplayer. “You hear comments like, 'Well, we want to see him do it again. We want to see a second great year out of him.' So okay, whatever, he'll go do that… I don't think it bothers him too much. He just wants the opportunity. I think he has a monster year and it just takes care of itself.” Now entering that anticipated senior season, all of the pressure is on Feinberg to have just as successful a year as last’s — if not, better. The attention and expectations on his shoulders are at an all-time high. Nonetheless, he has to tune it all out and focus on his game to do it again, to prove people wrong. “Those accolades and stuff like that, obviously [they] add pressure going into this year, but yeah, kind of just not thinking about that and just having fun every day,” said Feinberg. “The day that playing baseball is not fun — [I] don't want to play anymore. And just working through struggles, if I face them, and then just overcoming them.” Harrison Feinberg Credit: Jim Pierce So as a surprise to some and impressive to many, Feinberg is doing exactly that. In his redshirt senior year, he is having just as remarkable a season as last year’s. As of May 24, in 57 of 57 games started — and counting — Feinberg has put up 74 hits, 62 RBIs and 16 HRs. He leads the Huskies in all three categories, in addition to 222 at-bats (AB), OPS (1.056) and SLG% (.608). In the field, he has recorded 108 PO, topping last season’s 107, and currently holds a .973 FLD%. Feinberg has also broken more program records, including 43 career home runs, the last set by Frank Pesanello in 2009. As of May 12 at the University of Connecticut, he hit another career milestone of 200 hits — just the ninth Husky to do so, and the first since 2021. Ahead of the 2026 CAA Championship, he received All-Conference First Team. When asked about the best aspects of Feinberg’s game, looking back to our sitdown at the Cabot Center in February, Coach Glavine struggled to pick just one. “It's either defense or his base-stealing because he's such a power threat,” said Glavine. “And when he hits the ball, he hits the ball as far and as hard as anyone I've ever seen — and I'm not joking. He's worked really hard on the technique of stealing bases. And then again, his defense — I could play him in left, I can play him in center, I can play him in right, and we're going to get above-average defense. He single-handedly won some games last year on defense, not just with his bat. “And again, I just have so much respect for him because he's worked for all of it.” Nearing the end of the NCAA season and Feinberg’s collegiate career, the next step certainly points to getting drafted and moving on to the MLB. He “did it again.” He’s proved himself, yet again. He had that “monster year” twice. “I think his ceiling is really high,” said Glavine. “So he just has to kick down those walls — and he will.”

Photographed by Josué Cambara | May 30, 2026 Mexico claimed a narrow 1–0 win over Australia in an international friendly as preparations for the 2026 World Cup continue. With 78,479 people in attendance, the Rose Bowl Stadium saw thousands pack the stands in Pasadena, California. Mexico finished with more attacking volume, recording 13 shots to Australia’s 7, while both teams registered 4 saves. Mexico also led in corners, 5 to 3, and had slightly more fouls committed, 10 to 9, as well as offsides, 2 to 1.

by Holly Arend | May 22 2026 Photo taken by Andrew Fielder There is always a strange calm that comes with the final buzzer of a hockey season. After months of bus rides, morning skates and the daily grind of professional hockey, the first week away from the rink is less about jumping into something new and more about slowing everything down. For Lincoln Griffin, that usually starts with time spent around teammates, laughing, catching up and soaking in the final moments of a group that spent an entire season together. "Hockey is around an eight-month-long season," he said. "We spend countless hours together at the rink, on the bus and outside of the rink forming a brotherly bond." When the season ends, that bond makes the goodbye even tougher. The week after the final buzzer becomes a mix of memories, recovery and reflection, knowing you never quite know when that same locker room will be together again. Once his body recovers, Griffin heads home to spend time with family and friends he has not seen in months. After a few weeks away, the game finds him again in a different way. He works summer hockey camps, helping players ranging from 5-year-olds to teenagers as they continue their own journeys. That is not the only place Griffin has kept busy in the offseason. Last summer, he took on work outside of hockey that pushed him into unfamiliar territory. One job was at a car wash his uncle had taken over, where he helped wash cars, paint and reconstruct the building. Another was helping a family friend with granite installation, assembling countertops, kitchen spaces, bathrooms and bar tops. "It was awesome seeing someone's new or old house transform into something amazing," he said. "But those slabs of granite were not an easy lift." Off the ice, Griffin is drawn to things that help him slow down and reset. Fishing, beach days and long walks offer a little more peace than life in hockey usually allows. When he does want something competitive, golf has become a go-to offseason outlet. It gives him a challenge without being too demanding on his body. Another skill he has taken pride in building away from the rink is cooking. After moving away for hockey following college, Griffin found himself spending more time in the kitchen and gradually trying new recipes. His favorite meal to make is a simple one: steak, potatoes and asparagus. Even when hockey is not the center of the day, Griffin still likes to stay engaged with the places the game takes him. Whether it is a restaurant, a bar or another sporting event, he tries to make the most of each city, fully aware that hockey does not always give a player the chance to return. The offseason has also taken on new meaning in recent years, with his niece and nephews now part of that rhythm. During the season, the focus is always on the game. But when he gets home, he steps into a different role, uncle first, hockey player second. Whether he is playing outside with the kids, pushing them on the swing or watching "Bluey" for the 50th time in a day, Griffin says that time gives his offseason a different kind of purpose. "It brings a different excitement," he said. "I try to be the best uncle I can be." That same mindset carries into how he views the East Coast Hockey League (ECHL) and his career in the league. Photos provided by Lincoln Griffin Griffin believes the ECHL plays an important role in developing players who may not yet be ready for the American Hockey League (AHL) or National Hockey League (NHL). It gives young players a chance to adjust to the speed, size and demands of professional hockey while competing against AHL- and NHL-contracted talent. "The ECHL has been trending upward in the past few years," he said. "It pushes each and every player to be the best they can be in hopes of getting to the next level." The grind of the schedule, the travel, the sleepless nights and the uncertainty of trades have all played a role in making him stronger and more resilient. "Every day is a new opportunity to be the best version of yourself," he said. "Although it might seem like a tough situation, I believe it has made me a stronger person and will help me in the long run throughout life." Photo taken by Andrew Fielder Game days have their own rhythm. Morning skate, stretching, a trip back to his apartment, breakfast, a nap and then the pregame meal before puck drop. While he eats, he watches Fortnite streams, a small way of letting his mind go somewhere else before it has to be fully locked in. For Griffin, the off-ice story matters just as much as what happens between the boards. Hockey will always be the thing people judge him on, but the way he treats people, connects with fans and carries himself away from the rink is part of it too. And if he could speak to his younger self, the message would be simple. "Your hockey career goes by very fast," he said. "Just remember you are playing a sport that you love, so always be grateful for every opportunity that comes your way."

By Whitney Randall | May 18 2026 Photos Provided by Southern Utah University Athletics “What advice would I give to somebody who wants to become a flippin' bird? You bleed. You sweat. You cry. You jump for joy. You do everything with this family. And this family is going to be a huge part of your life for the rest of your life. So, embrace it and take it for the challenges that come with it, and embrace those too.” For Scotty Bauman, that idea of family is not just a slogan. It is the foundation of the program he built over decades, and a philosophy he created long before he ever stepped into a head coaching role. Bauman grew up in Price, Utah, a small coal-mining town in eastern Utah, where sports provided structure. Raised by his divorced mother and spending part of his childhood living in a trailer, stability wasn’t always guaranteed. It was something he learned to build for himself. His first connection to gymnastics wasn’t through competition but curiosity. His journey with the sport began with his involvement in ski jumping.The interest started with wanting to learn how to twist better in the air, and what started as cross-training turned into something more intentional and permanent. He began coaching not because it was the plan but because it solved a problem. He needed to pay for training, so he started spotting gymnasts. What he never expected was that he would excel at it or the attention he’d attract. By the time he was in high school, he was working with athletes on advanced skills, catching the eye of college coaches. When a Utah State coach was watching him spot an athlete during a camp in Price, it became the first real turning point. Not because it changed everything automatically, but because it opened up more possibilities and opportunities to learn. It was the first time that Bauman saw that coaching could be more than just a side job or a hobby. Still, he started at Utah State with the intention of going into a medical career. But gymnastics had other plans for him. Under the mentorship of coach Ray Corn, Bauman spent years learning how to build and understand athletes. Over time, coaching started to look more and more like a career. Then, the head coach position opened up at Southern Utah University. “I didn’t really think I had a shot at this job,” Bauman said. “I was 23. I was single. I didn’t know anything.” Even with his age, he was offered the position. Despite his uncertainty, he took it anyway. When he started coaching, there wasn’t immediate success, but instead friction. He joined a program filled with tension and athletes who didn’t trust his process. His first year was defined by conflict, structure, and readjustment. Bauman describes it plainly; it was the year he learned what not to do. It was also the year that helped to build the foundation of SUU gymnastics. The philosophy that exists now is one built on communication, accountability, and respect, but it was built from conflict. From athletes who pushed back, expectations that had to be learned, not just enforced, from learning that culture is not automatically created, it’s built on repetition. The team transformed into something bigger. It became a family built through consistency, accountability, and time. For Bauman, that idea of family was shaped long before his program ever reflected it. When his wife was pregnant, families in his community stepped in without hesitation. They brought meals, mowed his lawn, checked in, and made sure that they were taken care of during a time that could have easily been much more overwhelming. It was never asked for but his community just decided to take care of them on their own. That kindness stayed with him, it became the standard he would later bring into his program. For his team, showing up for each other is not optional, but expected. In gymnastics, success is measured in scores and placements, but inside the SUU gym, there were moments when winning stopped being the point. What mattered was how the team would respond when everything broke down. Photos Provided by Southern Utah University Athletics One of these moments came with Kayla Pardue. Pardue’s injury during a preseason preview was the kind of moment that changed everything. In gymnastics, a lower-body injury can end a gymnast’s career. Even with the best-case scenarios, recovery is uncertain. With Pardue’s injury, she had a 20% chance that she could ever compete again. It seemed impossible. But inside this program, it wasn’t. Training staff and strength coaches stepped in, and her nutrition plan shifted. The medical team, anchored by Bauman’s secret weapon, Dr. Nakken, began mapping a return timeline that few would have attempted. The final ingredient in her recovery was something that can’t be built into protocol: belief. Every small milestone of hers in the gym became a collective moment. In Bauman’s program, recovery is integration, not isolation. With every basic skill Pardue landed, it was a celebration. That response, he believes, is cultural conditioning “You don’t know how lucky you are to be where you’re at,” he often reminds his athletes. Not as a warning but a reminder that opportunity in a Division I program is not guaranteed, and neither is time. Leadership, in this program, is never assigned lightly. It isn’t about scores or status but about trust. Athletes are chosen by how their teammates view them, not just their competitive performance. For Bauman, the most important leaders are the ones that others naturally turn to, the ones who set the standard especially when no one is watching. When those leaders begin to wonder whether they belong, he doesn’t let that doubt linger. Instead he sits them down and brings them back to the people around them, reminding them exactly why their teammates chose them to lead them in the first place. In his program, confidence isn’t built through results alone, but through trust and accountability to their team. That mentality carried into one of the most successful stretches in program history. This season was one defined by pressure, expectation, and what Bauman admits was luck. In the championship run that led to a four-peat, he was blunt about the margins. But luck alone doesn’t explain a team that consistently delivered when it mattered most. It doesn’t explain a floor lineup that could change the team ranking entirely. It doesn’t explain a beam team that, even after inconsistency, can deliver when the stakes are high. What Bauman does credit is cohesion; even when performance fluctuated, the team never fractured. He described this team as the most honest and unproblematic that he has ever coached. They may not have been perfect or consistent, but they have an unbreakable connection. Even when the routines wavered, the culture didn’t. That distinction mattered the most when the season ended with another championship. Even when the team celebrated, their next move was already underway. Southern Utah is moving up to a whole new level of competition, joining the PAC-12 in July this year. For the flippin’ birds, it means a conference with deeper lineups, higher standards, and no margin for inconsistency. For Bauman, the transition, or at least their competition, is familiar. “These are teams we compete against all the time,” he said. “They’re not teams that dominate us.” Even with that margin for error disappearing, their foundation remains. They’ll enter the next season very veteran-heavy. With ten seniors returning, they have already been tested in pressure situations, living through injuries, lineup changes, and have hopes for a five-peat. No matter how they end a season, Bauman always returns to development. In his program, athletes aren’t just recruited, they are created. He finds under-recruited athletes and makes them into All-Americans. He sees the potential that other coaches often miss. He always credits their success as a program to his team and his staff. The assistant coaches who have worked with him for decades. Athletic trainers and strength coaches who bring athletes back to their peak when they shouldn’t have been able to compete again. Administrators who “just find a way” when their team needs something. He credits them more than himself. “I want to sit here and think it’s all me,” he said, “but it isn’t. It’s hardly any me.” In his view, building this team and its success took a village. It is consistency across all roles, a system where everyone understands the standard and refuses to drop below it. That structure is what has allowed athletes to return from career-ending injuries. It has kept their retention close to almost 100%. It is leadership chosen by the athletes, recognizing work beyond just competitive success. This is what made Southern Utah’s identity and culture so difficult to replicate. Photos Provided by Southern Utah University Athletics He also credits Cedar City. For Bauman, SUU is not just a campus or a school. It is a community that has consistently shown up for his program in ways that are beyond any expectation. From donors who quietly support the team, to residents who pack the America First Event Center, creating one of the strongest home atmospheres. The community is not just background support; they are part of the program’s identity. That support is not something Bauman takes lightly. He remembers community members stepping in to help, even when resources were limited. He points to service events like campus-wide service events and team-led community projects, showing that the relationship runs both ways. “We’re part of this community,” he said. “And we want the community to see that we try.” That connection has shaped this program. Athletes learn quickly that they are representing more than just a school; they are representing a city that invests in them emotionally, physically, and consistently. And in return, his athletes show up for that community in the same way it shows up for them. For Bauman, that exchange has never been transactional; it has always been personal. In the end, he doesn’t measure success by championships alone. He measures it by whether athletes feel supported when they are injured, believed in when they are doubtful, and valued even when they don’t feel at their best. Photos Provided by Southern Utah University Athletics That is why the word he keeps returning to is the same one he started with: family. It’s not a slogan or a line but something that shows up in the everyday details. How the team rallies around athletes in recovery, how they vote for leaders based on character, trust, and team belief, and how a small community fills the gym. It’s bigger than just a sport. And maybe that is what makes the program difficult to define from the outside. From the outside, it looks like titles, wins, and rankings. But from the inside, it’s a team built on trust, accountability, and care that extends far beyond just a season. It looks like athletes are learning how to recover, how to lead, and belong to something bigger than themselves. It looks like a coach who, after decades in the same place, still talks about his team the same way he did in the beginning. Not as numbers on a roster but as a family. A family that sweats together, cries together, struggles together, and grows together. Long after that final routine is over, they stay connected with the place and people who built them.

Written & Photographed by Samad Rizvi | May 17, 2025 Mac DeMarco performed his first of two sold out shows in Austin on May 16,2026 at Moody Theater. The last time he was in Austin was almost 7 years ago in 2019 with the crowd clearly communicating this through their apparent buzz of excitement before even getting into the venue. As Tex Crick wrapped up their opening set, Mac DeMarco stepped onto stage with his reflective work pants and red skate shoes starting off with the opening track “Shining” from his latest studio album, Guitar. The crowd's slow rhythmic swaying was immediately yanked away from them with the blasting, angelic retro-synth chords of “For the First Time” setting the pace for the rest of the show. Mac proceeded on with songs across his whole career as a musician albeit laughing and mumbling to himself as he switched between songs alongside doing some microphone throws and laying on the floor. Alternating between songs from Guitar and This Old Dog with some of his older hits thrown in, with the concert coming to an end he played fan favorites of “Freaking out the Neighborhood” and finishing the set out with “Chamber of Reflection”. Mac will go on to play one more show in Austin and then proceed up to Dallas and OKC. Mac DeMarco in Austin photographed by Samad Rizvi for HAZZE MEDIA Set List: Shining For the First Time Sweeter On the Level Phantom Salad Days Punishment 20191009 I Like Her Rock and Roll Finally Alone Still Beating Passing Out Pieces Home No Other Heart Terror Rock and Roll Night Club Heart to Heart Little Dogs March Ode to Viceroy One More Love Song Another One Rooster Freaking out the Neighborhood Holy Moonlight on the River Chamber of Reflection