John

Crystal Palace co-owner John Textor has said he feared the club’s participation in Europe would be in doubt moments after they won the FA Cup in May.

Textor’s involvement with both Palace and French club Lyon looks set to cost the Eagles a spot in the Europa League under Uefa’s rules governing multi-club ownership.

Textor has agreed to sell his 43% stake in Palace to fellow American Woody Johnson, who owns NFL team the New York Jets.

Asked what he went through his mind after Palace beat Manchester City at Wembley, Textor told Talksport: “I was very happy, but I felt the gravity of it. And I was concerned on the same day holding the cup next to the Prince [William].

“It was a great moment and I couldn’t have been happier for the fans, but yeah, I was worried about what was coming.”

This week Lyon won an appeal against their relegation from Ligue 1 because of the club’s poor financial state.

French football authorities demoted the seven-time champions into Ligue 2 last month, but that decision has been overturned.

It could affect Palace’s chances of playing in the Europa League next season as Lyon have also qualified for the competition, with Uefa set to rule on the situation at the end of the week.

Textor stressed that while he has “helped” the club, his role at Selhurst Park has not been a majorly active one.

“I help a lot. I showed up during Covid and paid off Covid debt. I helped finish the academy,” he added.

“I am sitting there on the board with four other guys. Steve Parish is making the decisions and bringing us players. He involves us but he doesn’t really listen to us.

“A suggestion from time to time is not the same as decisive influence.”

Last fall, the country singer Parker McCollum played a gig on the south shore of Lake Tahoe — the final date of a lengthy tour behind 2023’s “Never Enough” — then flew directly to New York City to start work on his next album.

“Probably the worst idea,” he says now, looking back at his unrelenting schedule. “I was absolutely cooked when I got there.”

Yet the self-titled LP he ended up making over six days at New York’s storied Power Station studio is almost certainly his best: a set of soulful, slightly scruffy roots-music tunes that hearkens back — after a few years in the polished Nashville hit machine — to McCollum’s days as a Texas-born songwriter aspiring to the creative heights of greats such as Guy Clark, Rodney Crowell and Townes Van Zandt. Produced by Eric Masse and Frank Liddell — the latter known for his work with Miranda Lambert and his wife, Lee Ann Womack — “Parker McCollum” complements moving originals like “Big Sky” (about a lonely guy “born to lose”) and “Sunny Days” (about the irretrievability of the past) with a tender cover of Danny O’Keefe’s “Good Time Charlie’s Got The Blues” and a newly recorded rendition of McCollum’s song “Permanent Headphones,” which he wrote when he was all of 15.

“Parker’s a marketing person’s dream,” Liddell says, referring to the 33-year-old’s rodeo-hero looks. “And what happens in those situations is they usually become more of a marketed product. But I think underneath, he felt he had more to say — to basically confess, ‘This is who I am.’” Liddell laughs. “I tried to talk him out of it.”

McCollum, who grew up in privileged circumstances near Houston and who’s now married with a 10-month-old son named Major, discussed the album on a recent swing through Los Angeles. He wore a fresh pair of jeans and a crisp denim shirt and fiddled with a ZYN canister as we spoke.

I was looking online at your —
Nudes?

At your Instagram. The other day you posted a picture of a box of Uncrustables on a private jet.
That photo was not supposed to make the internet. That was an accident — my fault. I don’t ever post about my plane on the internet.

You’re a grown man. Why Uncrustables?
That’s an adult meal that children are very, very fortunate to get to experience.

Did you know when you finished this record that you’d done something good?
Yes. But I didn’t know that until the last day we were in the studio and we listened to everything, top to bottom. The six days in the studio that we recorded this record, I was s—ing myself: “What the f— have I done? Why did I come to New York and waste all this time and money? This is terrible.” Then on the last day we listened all the way through, and I was like, Finally.

Finally what?
I just felt like I never was as focused and convicted and bought-in as I was on this record. I felt kind of desperate — like, “Am I just gonna keep doing the same thing, or are we gonna go get uncomfortable?”

Why New York?
One reason is that city makes me feel like a rock star. In my head when I was in high school dreaming about being a songwriter or a country singer, I was picturing huge budgets, making badass albums in New York City or L.A., staying in dope hotels — just this fairy tale that you believe in. The other reason is that when you’re cutting records in Nashville, people are leaving at 5 to go pick up their kids, or the label’s stopping by and all this s—. I just wanted to avoid all of that — I didn’t want to record three songs on a Tuesday in June and then record three songs on a Tuesday in August. I wanted to go make a record.

Lot of history at Power Station: Chic, Bruce Springsteen, David Bowie.
John Mayer wrote a song and recorded it in a day there — that song “In Repair,” with him and Charlie Hunter and Steve Jordan. That’s how I found out about the studio years ago. We actually ended up writing a song in the studio: “New York Is On Fire.”

A very John Mayer title.
I wanted to go in the late fall when the trees were changing colors and the air was cool.

Why was Frank Liddell the guy to produce?
I knew if he understood Chris Knight and the songs he had written that he could probably understand me and the songs I had written. I’d made half a record with Jon Randall, who’d produced my last two albums. And I love Jon Randall — he’s one of my closest friends in the world, four No. 1s together, multi-platinum this and multi-platinum that. But I just needed to dig deeper, and Frank was a guy who was down to let the songs do the work.

What do you think would’ve become of the record you were making with Randall?
It would’ve sounded great, and it would’ve had some success. But I don’t know if I would’ve been as emotionally involved as I was with Frank. Frank got a better version of me than Jon did.

What if nobody likes this record?
It’s like the first time I’m totally OK with that.

Country radio moves slowly, which means “What Kinda Man” may end up being a big hit. But it’s not a big hit yet.
It probably won’t be. The only reason that song went to radio is because “Burn It Down” had gone No. 1, and the label wanted another one. I was like, “Fine, go ahead.” I’ve never one time talked with them about what song should go to radio.

On this project.
Ever. I just don’t care. The song that goes to radio is very rarely the best song on the record.

What was the best song on “Never Enough”?
Probably “Too Tight This Time.” It’s slow and sad, which is my specialty.

You recently told Texas Monthly, “I don’t write fun songs. I’ve never really liked them.”
There’s some I like. “Always Be My Baby” by Mariah Carey f—ing slaps. I love feel-good songs. But in country music, feel-good songs are, like, beer-and-truck-and-Friday-night songs, and those have never done anything for me.

“What Kinda Man” is kind of fun.
But I think it’s still well-written. It’s not all the clichés that every song on the radio has in it.

What’s the best song on this album?
“Hope That I’m Enough” or “Solid Country Gold” or “My Worst Enemy” or “My Blue.”

Lot of choices.
I love this record. I don’t think I’ll ever do any better.

Is that a sad thought?
Eh. I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna do it anyways.

Why would you hang it up?
I don’t know that I’m going to. But I don’t think I’m gonna do this till I’m 70. We’ve been doing these stadium shows with George Strait — I think I’m out a lot sooner than him.

You watch Strait’s set?
Every night.

What have you learned from him?
When it comes to George, what I really pay attention to is everything off the stage. No scandals, so unbelievably humble and consistent and under the radar. The way he’s carried himself for 40 years — I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody else do it that well. I’d love to be the next George Strait off the stage.

I’m not sure his under-the-radar-ness is possible today.
I fight with my team all the time. They’re always trying to get my wife and kid in s—, and I’m like, “They’re not for sale.” I understand I have to be a little bit — it’s just the nature of the business. But at home, that’s the real deal — that ain’t for show.

“I can’t explain how deeply emotional songs make me — it controls my entire being,” McCollum says. “The right song in the right moment is everything to me.”

(Matt Seidel / For The Times)

I’d imagine People magazine would love to do a spread with you and your beautiful wife and your beautiful child.
They offered for the wedding. I was like, “Abso-f—ing-lutely not.” I don’t want anybody to know where I live or what I drive or what I do in my spare time. And nowadays that’s currency — people filming their entire lives. Call me the old man, but I’m trying to go the complete opposite direction of that.

One could argue that your resistance isn’t helpful for your career.
I’m fine with that.

Fine because you’re OK money-wise?
I’m sure that plays into it. But, man, my childhood is in a box in my mom’s attic. And nowadays everybody’s childhood is on the internet for the whole world to see. I’m just not down with that. I don’t want to make money off of showing everybody how great my life is. Because it is f—ing great. I feel like I could make $100 million a year if I was a YouTuber — it’s movie s—. The way it started, the way I came up, the woman I married, the child I had — there’s no holes.

Where does the pain in your music come from?
I’ve thought about that for a long time. I don’t think it’s the entire answer, but I think if your parents divorced when you were little, for the rest of your life there’s gonna be something inside you that’s broken. My parents’ divorce was pretty rowdy, and I remember a lot of it. And I don’t think those things ever fully go away.

How do you think about the relationship between masculinity and stoicism?
It never crosses my mind.

Is your dad a guy who talks about his feelings?
F— no.

Was he scary?
I think he could be. My dad’s the s—. He’s the baddest son of a bitch I’ve ever met in my life.

What image of masculinity do you want to project for your son?
When I think about raising Major, I just want him to want to win. Can fully understand you’re not always going to, but you should always want to, no matter what’s going on. I hope he’s a winner.

When’s the last time you cried?
Actually wasn’t very long ago. A good friend of mine died — Ben Vaughn, who was the president of my publishing company in Nashville. I played “L.A. Freeway,” the Guy Clark song, at his memorial service a couple weeks ago. That got me pretty good.

You said you’re OK if fans don’t like this record.
I don’t need anyone else to like it. I hope that they love it — I hope it hits them right in the f—ing gut and that these songs are the ones they go listen to in 10 years when they want to feel like they did 10 years ago. That’s what music does for me. But I know not everybody feels music as intensely as I do.

Was that true for you as a kid?
Even 6, 7, 8 years old, I’d listen to a song on repeat over and over and over again. I can’t explain how deeply emotional songs make me — it controls my entire being. The right song in the right moment is everything to me. Where I live, there’s a road called River Road, in the Hill Country in Texas. It’s the most gorgeous place you’ve ever been in your life, and I’ll go drive it. I know the exact minute that I should be there in the afternoons at this time of year to catch the light through the trees, and I’ll have the songs I’m gonna play while I’m driving that road.

You know what song you want to hear at a certain bend in the road.
Probably a little psychotic.

Are you one of these guys who wants the towels to hang on the rack just so?
I like things very clean and organized.

Is that because you grew up in that kind of environment or because you grew up in the opposite?
My mom was very clean and organized. But I don’t know — I’ve never one time gone to bed with dirty dishes in the sink. My wife cooks dinner all the time when I’m home, and as soon as we’re done, I do all the dishes and load the dishwasher and wipe the counters down.

You could never just chill and let it go.
No, it’s messy. It’s gross.

Parker McCollum performs at the Stagecoach festival in 2023.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Do people ever interpret your intensity as, “This dude’s kind of a d—?”
People would always tell me I was cocky, and I’d be like, I don’t feel cocky at all. I was raised to have great manners: take my hat off when I meet a lady, look somebody in the eye with a firm handshake, “Yes, ma’am,” “No, ma’am,” “Yes, sir,” “No, sir,” no matter the age or the gender of the person. Manners were such a crazy thing in my childhood — it’s the only way I know how to speak to people. So I’ve always thought it was so weird, in high school, girls would be like, “Oh, you’re so cocky.”

I mean, I’ve seen the “What Kinda Man” video. You obviously know you look cool.
I don’t think that at all. I think I look kind of dumb.

I’m not sure whether to believe you.
I couldn’t be more serious. This is very weird for me to say, but Frank finally put into words what I’ve always felt with every photographer, anybody I’ve ever worked with in the business since I was 19 years old — he said, “This record sounds like Parker’s heart and mind and not his face.” The fact that I’m not 5-foot-7 with a beard and covered in tattoos — it’s like nobody ever thinks that the songs are gonna have any integrity.

Boo-hoo for the pretty boy.
People always called me “Hollywood,” “pretty boy,” all this stuff. I guess it’s better than calling you a f—ing fat-ass. But I’ve never tried to capitalize on that at any point in time. I’ve always just wanted to be a songwriter.

But you know how to dress.
Kind of?

Come on, man — the gold chains, the Lucchese boots.
That’s all to compensate for the fact that I don’t know what the f— to wear. I know I like gold and diamonds. Loved rappers when I was younger. Waylon Jennings wore gold chains and diamonds, Johnny Cash did — they always looked dope. I was always like, I want to do that too.

If the fans’ approval isn’t crucial, whose approval does mean something to you?
George Strait. John Mayer. Steve Earle. My older brother. My dad.

You know Mayer?
We’ve talked on Instagram.

Why is he such a big one for you?
The commitment to the craft, I think, is what I’ve admired so much about him. It’s funny: When I was younger, I always said I was never gonna get married and have kids because I knew John Mayer was never going to, and I really respected how he was just gonna chase whatever it is that he was chasing forever. Then he got into records like “The Search for Everything” and “Sob Rock,” and he kind of hints at the fact that he missed out on that — he wishes he had a wife, wishes he had kids. That really resonated with me. I was like, all right, I don’t want to be 40 and alone. It completely changed my entire perspective on my future.

You played “Courtesy Of The Red, White And Blue” by the late Toby Keith at one of Donald Trump’s inaugural balls in January. What do you like about that song?
I bleed red, white and blue. I’m all about the United States of America — I’m all about what it stands for. A lot of people get turned off by that nowadays. I don’t care — I’m not worried about if you’re patriotic or not. But Toby was a great songwriter, and I love how much he loved his country.

In that Texas Monthly interview, you said you felt it was embarrassing for people to be affected emotionally by an artist’s political affiliation.
Nobody used to talk about it, and now it’s so polarizing. Am I not gonna listen to Neil Young now? I’m gonna listen to Neil Young all the f—ing time.

Why do you think audiences started caring?
Social media and the constant flood of information and political propaganda that people are absorbing around the clock. It’s just so dumb. I’ve got guys in my band and in my crew that are conservative and guys that are liberal. It makes no difference to me.

Of course you knew how your involvement with Trump would be taken.
Think about being 16, wanting to be a country singer, then getting to go play the presidential inauguration. What a crazy honor. There’s not a single president in history who was perfect — not a single one that didn’t do something wrong, not a single one that only did wrong. I just don’t care what people think about that stuff. Everybody feels different about things, and nowadays it’s like two sides of the fence — you either agree with this or you agree with that. I’m not that way.

What do you think happens next for you?
This is the only record I’ve ever made that I didn’t think about that as soon as I walked out of the studio. I have no idea what the next record is gonna be. Not a clue.

If we meet again in two years and you’ve made a record full of trap beats, what would that mean?
Probably that I was on drugs again.

John C. Harris, California horse-racing mogul, had a particular love for the thoroughbred breeding and racing sector of his company, Harris Farms.

Multiple horses that were raised and trained at Coalinga-based Harris Farms went on to become national champions, including Tiznow, the 2000 Horse of the Year, and California Chrome, a national Hall of Fame racehorse. A close friend recounted Harris’ reaction to the latter thoroughbred winning the 2014 Kentucky Derby.

The moment California Chrome sprinted over the finish line, tears streamed down Harris’ face.

“It was just knowing that his farm had such a major role,” said his good friend Doug Burge. “It was probably the most fun we ever had.”

Harris, who owned the multimillion-dollar agribusiness Harris Farms, has died. He was 81.

Those who knew Harris described him as an acclaimed rancher, farmer and horse-racing enthusiast who devoted himself to his passions to the end. Harris Farms confirmed his death in a statement shared on July 3. No details, including cause of death, were provided.

Harris was born on July 14, 1943, and resided in Fresno County all of his life. He earned a degree in agricultural production at UC Davis before serving in the U.S. Army for two years.

Harris took ownership of Harris Farms following his father’s death in 1981. He oversaw all operations of the ranch, which encompasses a thriving farm that produces more than 30 types of crops including garlic, pistachios and wine grapes, as well as the horse-breeding operation, according to its website. Harris Farms was known for the beef it produced, but the cattle-raising portion of the business was sold in 2019.

Harris nurtured a steadfast passion for horse racing and the thoroughbred breeding industry in Northern California, according to friends and family. He was a former president and board member of the California Thoroughbred Breeders Assn. and served on the board of the Thoroughbred Owners of California and the National Jockey Club. According to those who worked with him, he shaped the horse-racing industry into what it is today.

“He had a love for the land, everything from farming to raising horses,” said Burge, the current president of the CTBA, who knew Harris as a mentor and friend for more than 30 years.

Harris was a longtime, dedicated advocate for the agricultural industry, according to Oscar Gonzalez, the vice chairman of the California Horse Racing Board who previously served as assistant secretary of Agriculture during the Biden administration.

“Mr. Harris was just a phone call away,” he said. “When I was in Washington, D.C. … and I needed a point of reference or background information on an issue involving agriculture, or water or immigration, he was always somebody that had context in that background.”

One of Harris’ last advocacy efforts was just a couple of weeks ago, when he fought to reinstate live horse racing at the Big Fresno Fair, a proposal that was ultimately unsuccessful.

“We will never give up continuing this storied tradition of Fresno racing. Today’s story is not the end — we will come back again next year,” Harris said, according to the Business Journal.

Justin Oldfield, a thoroughbred breeder and a chairman of the CTBA, said that Harris wanted everyone in the industry to be successful, always offering mentorship and help to those who needed it.

“For as successful as a businessman as he was, you would have never have known it from the way he treated you,” Oldfield said. “John was an extremely humble, down-to-earth individual that treated everyone with respect, treated everyone like they had value.”

He said that he once went to a horse racing industry event honoring Harris with more than 3,000 attendees.

“I can’t even imagine how many people are gonna be at his funeral,” Oldfield said.

Harris is survived by his wife, Cookie, and others “whose lives were enriched by his strength of character and enduring compassion,” the statement from Harris Farms said.

MINNEAPOLIS — Minnesota state Sen. John Hoffman, who was shot nine times by a gunman posing as a police officer who authorities say went on to kill another lawmaker, is out of the hospital and is now recovering in a transitional care unit, his family said.

“John has been moved to a rehab facility, but still has a long road to recovery ahead,” the family said in a statement Monday night.

The family released a photo showing a smiling Hoffman giving a thumbs-up while standing with a suitcase on rollers, ready to leave the hospital.

Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, were awakened around 2 a.m. on June 14 by a man pounding on the door of their home in the Minneapolis suburb of Champlin who said he was a police officer. According to an FBI agent’s affidavit, security video showed the suspect, Vance Boelter, at the door wearing a black tactical vest and holding a flashlight. He was wearing a flesh-colored mask that covered his entire head.

Yvette Hoffman told investigators they opened the door, and when they spotted the mask, they realized that the man was not a police officer. He then said something like “this is a robbery.” The senator then lunged at the gunman and was shot nine times. Yvette Hoffman was hit eight times before she could shut the door. Their adult daughter, Hope, was there but was not injured and called 911.

Boelter is accused of going to the homes of two other lawmakers in a vehicle altered to resemble a squad car, without making contact with them, before going to the home of former Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, in nearby Brooklyn Park. He allegedly killed both of them and wounded their dog so seriously that he had to be euthanized.

The chief federal prosecutor for Minnesota has called the lawmaker’s killing an assassination.

Yvette Hoffman was released from the hospital a few days after the attacks. Former President Biden visited the senator in the hospital when he was in town for the Hortmans’ funeral.

Boelter, who remains jailed without bail, is charged in federal and state court with murder and attempted murder. At a hearing Thursday, Boelter said he was “looking forward to the facts about the 14th coming out.”

Prosecutors have declined to speculate on a motive. Friends have described him as an evangelical Christian with politically conservative views.

It will be up to Atty. Gen. Pam Bondi to decide whether to seek the federal death penalty. Minnesota abolished its state death penalty in 1911.

Karnowski writes for the Associated Press.

In a time of exploding success and creativity in rock music, Creedence Clearwater Revival was quite possibly the finest singles band of the late 1960s and early 1970s. Formed in suburban El Cerrito in Northern California by frontman John Fogerty, his brother Tom on guitar, bassist Stu Cook and drummer Doug Clifford, CCR put up an absurd number of all-timers in the space of about 2 1/2 years, including most of the 20 collected on “Chronicle,” the 1976 greatest-hits LP that still sits on the Billboard 200 album chart today, nearly half a century later.

The band’s instantly identifiable sound — which the members began developing first as the Blue Velvets and then as the Golliwogs — combined blues, rock, psychedelia and R&B; John Fogerty’s voice, preternaturally scratchy and soulful for a guy in his early 20s, gave the music a feeling of sex and grit even as he flexed his commercial pop smarts as a producer and hook-meister.

For all their popularity, Fogerty refused to play Creedence’s biggest hits for decades due to a prolonged legal battle with his old label, Fantasy Records, over the rights to his songs — a feud that reached a kind of apex when Fantasy’s head honcho, Saul Zaentz, sued Fogerty for plagiarizing himself with his solo song “The Old Man Down the Road,” which Zaentz said sounded too much like CCR’s “Run Through the Jungle.” (Fogerty eventually won; Zaentz died in 2014.)

Yet two years ago, Fogerty regained control of his publishing, and now he’s made an album of Taylor Swift-style rerecorded versions of the band’s songs called “Legacy: The Creedence Clearwater Revival Years,” due Aug. 22. Ahead of a concert Sunday night at the Hollywood Bowl, where he’ll be accompanied by a band that includes his sons Shane and Tyler, Fogerty, 80, called from the road to tell the stories behind five of his signature tunes.

‘Proud Mary’ (1969)

After charting in 1968 with covers of Dale Hawkins’ “Susie Q” and Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ “I Put a Spell on You,” Fogerty scored his first hit as a songwriter with this funky and propulsive country-soul jam.

“Proud Mary” came as a bolt of lightning and inspiration from heaven. I’d received my honorable discharge from the Army in the middle of 1968, and I was overjoyed — I mean, absolutely euphoric. It meant that I could now pursue music full-time. So I went in the house with my Rickenbacker guitar and started strumming some chords, and the first line I wrote was “Left a good job in the city / Working for the man every night and day.” That’s how I felt getting out of the Army.

But what is this song about? I really didn’t know. I went to my little song book that I’d only started writing in a few months before — it was a conscious decision to get more professional — and, lo and behold, the very first thing I’d ever written in that book was the phrase “Proud Mary.” I didn’t know what it meant — I just wrote it down because that was gonna be my job. I’ve got this little book, and I’m gonna collect my thoughts.

At the very bottom of the same page was the word “riverboat.” I remember saying to myself, “Oh, this song’s about a riverboat named Proud Mary.” How strange is that? Who writes a song about a boat? But after that I was off and running — finished the song within the hour, and for the first time in my life, I was looking at the page and I said, “My God, I’ve written a classic.” I knew it was a great song, like the people I admired so much: Hoagy Carmichael or Leiber & Stoller or Lennon & McCartney. I felt it in my bones.

Where did the narrator’s accent come from? “Big wheel keep on toinin’” and all that?
Howlin’ Wolf was a huge inspiration to me when I was 10, 11, 12 years old. He said things like that a lot, and I guess it went into my brain. I didn’t do it consciously — it just seemed right to me when I was writing the song.

CCR had five singles that got to No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100, including “Proud Mary.” Do you recall what was at No. 1 when “Proud Mary” reached No. 2?
Let’s see, this was early 1969 — I’d love to think that it was [Otis Redding’s] “Dock of the Bay.”

“Everyday People” by Sly and the Family Stone.
No kidding. How cool.

Did you know Sly?
I never met Sly Stone. I really loved the records. I was at Woodstock, and he was a couple acts after me. I watched Janis [Joplin] and then some of Sly, and then we retired to our Holiday Inn — must have been 4 in the morning by then.

Ike and Tina Turner remade “Proud Mary” for themselves.
It’s almost a different song. First time I heard it, I was driving in my car — was one of those times you pump your first and go, “Yeah!”

‘Lodi’ (1969)

This twangy account of a musician fallen on hard times first appeared on the B-side of the “Bad Moon Rising” single.

My mom and dad loved traveling from our little town of El Cerrito. We would drive up San Pablo Avenue — I don’t think there was a freeway back then — and cross the Carquinez Bridge into Vallejo and keep going up into the northern-central part of California and all those wonderful places like Stockton and Tracy and Modesto. I got to know all these towns like Dixon and Davis, and I heard my parents talk about Lodi. As a youngster, that was one of the words I saved in my book, like I was talking about earlier. I told myself, “That’s important, John — you need to save that and remember it.”

As I started to get a little older, I remember playing on campus at Cal Berkeley with a ragtag group of guys — a local dance kind of thing for the students. The guy from Quicksilver Messenger Service with the afro [David Freiberg], he was there too playing with his band, and they did a song where it sounded like he was saying “Lodi.” I was heartbroken. When he got done with his set, I went over and asked the gentleman, “What was that song you were doing? Was it called ‘Lodi’?” He said, “Oh, you mean ‘Codeine.’” Boy, did I crack up. Here I am, the farmer boy thinking about Lodi, and he’s the downtown guy talking about drugs.

Anyway, all that meandering my family did through the Central Valley was very important to me. There came a time when I was inspired to write a song framed in a place that was kind of out of the way. I was 23 or so, but I was picturing a much older person than myself — maybe Merle Haggard when he gets older. There he is, stuck in this little town because he’d drifted in and he doesn’t have the money to get out.

‘Fortunate Son’ (1969)

Immediately adopted as an anthem among those opposed to the Vietnam War, Fogerty’s searing protest song was later inducted into the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry.

You said in 2014 that you weren’t entirely satisfied by your lead vocal.
I still feel the same way. The basic tracks for “Down on the Corner” and “Fortunate Son” were both recorded, and one afternoon I went over to Wally Heider’s studio to finish the songs. For “Down on the Corner,” I did the maracas and the middle solo part, then sang all the background vocals, then sang the lead. So I’d been singing at the top of my lungs for probably an hour and a half, then I had to go back and finish “Fortunate Son.” I was screaming my heart out, doing the best I could, but later I felt that some of the notes were a little flat — that I hadn’t quite hit the mark. I always sort of cringed about that.

There’s an argument to be made that the raggedness in your voice is what gives the song its urgency.
I know that in the case of the Beatles, John would just sit in the studio screaming and screaming until his voice got raw enough, then he’d record some takes. Perhaps the fact that it was a little out of tune made it — what’s the word? — more pop-worthy. I don’t know.

“Fortunate Son” was heard at President Trump’s recent military parade, despite your asking him not to use it during his 2020 campaign.
I didn’t watch other than a few seconds. I was trying to find the Yankee game and came across the parade. I was expecting it would be like the Rose Bowl Parade on New Year’s morning, but it seemed really kind of sleepy. Somebody emailed me later that night and told me. I thought it was strange — thought it would be something that someone would be wary of.

Because of the cease-and-desist — and because the song is literally about a person of privilege avoiding military service.
I thought to myself: Do you think somebody did it on purpose? Are they doing it as some weird kind of performance art? I might be giving too much credit to the thought that went into it.

“Fortunate Son” is one of the great rock songs about class, which is a concept that Trump has deeply reshaped in his time.
He’s a rich guy but he manages to make himself look like the underdog and the victim. I’m from the ’60s — the hippie era — when young people were much more unified in the sense that everybody should be equal and everyone should be tolerant and respectful of each other. It’s a little different now, even though I’m very happy that people are protesting and making noise and pointing out injustice — I’m thrilled that’s going on instead of just standing by and watching somebody get lit on fire.

But we’re so polarized in America now. I’m hopeful, though. You didn’t ask me the question, but I am. I think we’re all starting to get tired of that. It doesn’t work very well — what we’re doing right now is certainly not working. If we fire everybody and quit all knowledge and science and education and manners and morality and ethics and kick out all the immigrants — well, I guess you and me are probably gone along with everybody else. I mean, it’s just such complete negativity. As Americans, that’s not us — that’s not how we roll.

‘Run Through the Jungle’ (1970)

With worries about the spread of gun ownership in his head, Fogerty devised one of his eeriest productions for this swampy psych-rock number.

I was trying to do a lot with a little — certainly got the band cooking and got a good groove going. For the intro, I wanted to create maybe a Stanley Kubrick movie soundscape, but of course I didn’t have a symphony orchestra or synthesizers or any of that kind of stuff. I had to imagine: How do I use these rock ’n’ roll instruments — basically guitar and piano and a little bit of percussion and some backward tape — and create that ominous, rolling vibe?

Along with the Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson, you were one of the few rock and pop musicians of that era who produced your own records.
To me, it was natural. I remember a time in the little shed that Fantasy had built outside the back of their warehouse to use as a recording studio — I was working there one day, had the earphones on and I was at the mic. This was Golliwogs time, probably ’65 or ’66, and I was trying to get something accomplished that was not getting accomplished. I said out loud, “Well, I guess Phil Spector’s not gonna come down here and produce us, so I’m gonna have to learn how to be a producer myself.”

Saul Zaentz famously took you to court for self-plagiarism. Is there anything at all in your mind that connects “Run Through the Jungle” and “The Old Man Down the Road”?
Other than both of them having a very deep footprint within the blues, which is what has influenced me greatly in my life, I never thought they were even similar. The whole thing was preposterous.

‘Have You Ever Seen the Rain’ (1970)

After CCR’s “Pendulum” LP — which included this tender ballad that now boasts more than 2 billion streams on Spotify — Tom Fogerty quit the group; the remaining three members went their separate ways less than two years later.

I loved my band — I thought it was the culmination of everything I’d been working for — and to watch it sort of disintegrating, I just felt powerless. That’s why I use the strange metaphor of rain coming down on a sunny day: We had finally found our sunny day, and yet everybody seemed to be more and more unhappy. I just felt completely befuddled by what was going on — I didn’t know what to say or do that was gonna fix it.

Up to that time, I’d thought the way to fix it was: Well, I’ll just write more songs and we’ll have more success — that’ll take care of all our problems. That’s how I felt — pathetically so — even as far as my relationship with Saul Zaentz and the horrible contract. I thought if I just showed that I was a great songwriter and could make these records that perhaps he would have some empathy and go, “I should treat John better because I want to have more of these songs.” When I say that now, it sounds utterly foolish.

In spite of the pain you were in at the time, this song is one of your sweetest.
That’s true. It’s like an atom bomb going off in your backyard — it’s so horrible that you just sort of cling to your positive human emotion. Even if it’s painful, you try to feel rather than be numb.

“Have You Ever Seen the Rain” has been covered widely: Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, the Ramones, Rod Stewart. You have a favorite rendition besides yours?
I really liked Bonnie Tyler’s version.

“Heads of State” is not the Cheech & Chong reunion film you’ve been waiting for, but a comic thriller co-starring John Cena and Idris Elba, premiering Wednesday on Prime Video. Previously joined in cultural history by the DC super antihero flick “The Suicide Squad,” the actors have remade their rivalrous characters there into an odd couple of national leaders here, dealing with conspiratorial skulduggery, bullets, bombs and the like.

Call me dim, but I wasn’t even half aware that Cena, whose muscles have muscles, maintains a long, successful career in professional wrestling — which is, of course, acting — alongside his more conventional show business pursuits; he’s ever game to mock himself and not afraid to look dumb, which ultimately makes him look smart, or to appear for all intents and purposes naked at the 2024 Oscars, presenting the award for costume design. (He was winning, too, in his schtick with Jimmy Kimmel.) Elba, whose career includes a lot of what might be called prestige genre, has such natural poise and gravity that one assumes he’s done all the Shakespeares and Shaws and Ibsens, but “The Wire” and “Luther” were more his thing. He was on many a wish list as the next James Bond, and while that’s apparently not going to happen, something of the sort gets a workout here.

Elba plays British Prime Minister Sam Clarke, described as “increasingly embattled” in his sixth year in office, who is about to meet Cena’s recently elected American president, Will Derringer, on the eve of a trip to Trieste, Italy, for a NATO conference. (Why Clarke is embattled is neither explained nor important.) Derringer resents Clarke, who can’t take him seriously, for having seemed to endorse his opponent by taking him out for fish and chips. (This is a recurring theme.) An international star in the Schwarzenegger/Stallone mold — “Water Cobra” is his franchise — one might call Derringer’s election ridiculous, but I live in a state that actually did elect Schwarzenegger as its governor, twice. Wet behind the ears (“He still hasn’t figured out the difference between a press conference and a press junket,” somebody says), Derringer thinks a lot himself, his airplane, his knowing Paul McCartney and his position. Beyond aspirational platitudes, he has no real politics, but as we first see him carrying his daughter on his shoulders, we know he’s really OK.

Directed by Ilya Naishuller (“Nobody”) and written by Josh Appelbaum, André Nemec and Harrison Query, the movie begins with a scene set at the Tomatino Festival in, Buñol, Spain, in which great crowds of participants lob tomatoes at each other in a massive food fight — it’s a real thing — foreshadowing the blood that will soon be flowing through the town square, as a team of unidentified bad guys ambush the British and American agents who are tracking them. They’ve been set up, declares M16 agent Noel Bisset (Priyanka Chopra Jonas), who is later reported “missing and presumed dead” — meaning, of course, that she is very much alive and will be seen again; indeed, we will see quite a lot of her.

Also starring is Priyanka Chopra Jonas as M16 agent Noel Bisset, who is tasked with protecting the two heads of state.

(Chiabella James / Prime Video)

Meanwhile, the prime minister and the president board Air Force One for Trieste. They talk movies: “I like actual cinema,” says Clarke, who claims to have never seen one of Derringer’s pictures. “I’m classically trained,” the movie star protests. “Did you know I once did a play with Edward Norton? But the universe keeps telling me I look cool with a gun in my hand — toy gun.”

Following attacks within and without the plane, the two parachute into Belarus and, for the remainder of the film, make their way here and there, trying to evade the private army of Russian arms dealer and sadistic creep Viktor Gradov (Paddy Considine) led by your typical tall blond female assassin (Katrina Durden). They’ll also meet Stephen Root as a computer guy and Jack Quaid as a comical American agent. Elsewhere, Vice President Elizabeth Kirk (Carla Gugino) takes charge. (“Bad?” is the note I wrote. I’ve seen my share of political thrillers.)

There will be hand-to-hand combat, missiles, machine-gun shoot-em-ups, more than a couple helicopters and a car chase through the streets of Trieste — a lovely seaside/hillside city I recommend if you’re thinking of Italy this summer. Must I tell you that antipathy will turn to appreciation as our heroes make common cause, get a little personal and, with the able Agent Bisset, become real-life action heroes? That they are middle-aged is not an issue, though there is a joke about the American movie star being less fit than the U.K. politician.

The logline portends a comedy, possibly a parody, even a satire. It’s definitely the first of these, if not especially subtle or sharp (Derringer stuck in a tree, hanging from a tangled parachute; Clarke setting off a smoke bomb in his own face — that did make me laugh), a little bit the second, and not at all the third, even though it sniffs around politics a bit. Above all, like many, most or practically all action films, it’s a fantasy in which many things happen that would not and could not ever, ever happen in the real world, because that’s not how people or physics behave. (It certainly doesn’t represent America in 2025.)

There is just as much character development or backstory as is necessary to make the players seem more or less human. Plot-wise there are a lot of twists, because the script superimposes a couple of familiar villainous agendas into a single narrative; it’s mildly diverting without being compelling, which, I would think, will ultimately work in its favor as hectic, lightly violent entertainment. Not even counting the orgy of anonymous death that has qualified as family entertainment for some time now — blame video games, I won’t argue — it’s a painless watch, and, in its cheery, fantastic absurdity, something of a respite from the messier, crazier, more unbelievable world awaiting you once the credits have rolled.

For “Grease” fans in Los Angeles, recent summer nights had a surprise in store. We’ll tell you more, tell you more.

John Travolta, who brought life to bad boy heartthrob Danny Zuko in the 1978 classic, crashed the Hollywood Bowl’s sing-along event Friday. He surprised not just the audience, but also fellow “Grease” alumni as he sauntered on stage in his character’s signature pompadour and leather jacket.

“No one knew, not even the cast,” Travolta, 71, recalled of the moment in an Instagram post shared Saturday.

The “Pulp Fiction” and “Hairspray” star on Instagram shared a closer look at his Danny Zuko-inspired styling and posted a video of him reuniting with co-stars Didi Conn, Barry Pearl, Michael Tucci, Kelly Ward and “Grease” filmmaker Randal Kleiser. Video from the sing-along shows audiences cheering and celebrating Travolta with a standing ovation. His surprise appearance came before the beginning of the sing-along, according to Entertainment Weekly.

“L.A.,” he says to fans before referencing a memorable line from the movie. “I thought you were going back to Australia!”

In that scene from “Grease,” Danny excitedly greets his summer sweetheart Sandy, before quickly playing it too cool and aloof, saving face for his T-Birds greaser squad. Olivia Newton-John indelibly played the role of Sandy. She died on Aug. 8, 2022, at age 73.

During Friday’s event, Travolta and his co-stars led fans in singing “A-womp-bop-a-looma-a-womp-bam-boom,” a line from the “Grease” finale number “We Go Together,” according to video from EW. He and his cast then left the stage and the sing-along began.

“Thank you for a great evening,” Travolta added in his Instagram post.

The last Red Roses camp before the Rugby World Cup squad is named will be in Treviso, Italy in July.

It is the first foreign camp England’s women have been taken on, but despite the excitement the head coach is promising it will be one the toughest and hottest they have experienced.

“The heat will in itself create its own duress” said Mitchell, with temperatures in the region averaging around 30C in the summer.

“I think our tournament might be hot, so I think we’ll benefit from that. It will probably be our most uncomfortable training camp of all of them because it will be hot and you’ll get bothered.”

After England lost the last Rugby World Cup final after an early red card for wing Lydia Thompson, the coaches are keen to ensure no stone will be left unturned to prepare the side for all eventualities.

“The amount that we’ve layered on our game will put them under a lot of questions through scenarios,” said Mitchell. “The unfairness that comes in the games through the cards, those sorts of things. The play-to-rest ratios will be probably a little bit lower as well. We can create a really quite niggly camp if you like.

“We want to be ready for any form of unfairness and it will come at some point. Look at the way cards and HIA’s (Head Injury Assessments) have advanced the game in that area.

“We’ve definitely got to do it because it’s going to come in the tournament. I’d rather be ready for every eventuality and even then, we probably won’t be ready for every eventuality.

“If we don’t create that exposure, then we’re probably going to let ourselves down like the last World Cup.”

PUT-IN-BAY, Ohio — Nearly 10 years after he changed the lives of every queer person in America, Jim Obergefell sat in a crowded bar on a small island in Lake Erie, watching the close-knit local community celebrate its third annual Pride.

Jim, 58, made history as the lead plaintiff in the landmark legal case Obergefell vs. Hodges, in which the U.S. Supreme Court ruled on June 26, 2015, that same-sex couples nationwide have a constitutional right to marry.

The last decade has diminished the familiarity of his face, once everywhere on cable news, and he appeared to sit anonymously now, sipping a beer in a booth. But Jim’s legacy still resonates deeply with LGBTQ+ people all over the country, in both red and blue states and in little purplish outposts like Put-in-Bay, too — as Molly Kearney, the queer comedian on stage, would soon make clear.

Kearney spent years working at island bars and restaurants before making it big and landing a gig as the first nonbinary cast member of “Saturday Night Live.” They are something of a legend on the island about three miles off the Ohio coast, and the crowd was loving their set — which was chock full of stories about getting drunk at local watering holes and navigating life and family as a young queer person.

Then Kearney brought up Jim’s case.

The day the Supreme Court issued its decision, Kearney was working at a restaurant called The Forge alongside co-owner Marc Wright, who is gay and one of the organizers of Put-in-Bay Pride. Wright immediately told the LGBTQ+ staff their work day was done.

“I just remember that day so vividly,” Kearney said. “He’s like, ‘All right, all the straight people have to work. All the gay people, leave work — we’re going out on the town!’”

A large Pride flag is held by supporters in front of the U.S. Supreme Court in Washington on April 28, 2015. The U.S. Supreme Court ruled on June 26, 2015, that same-sex couples nationwide have a constitutional right to marry.

(Allison Shelley / The Washington Post via Getty Images)

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers, and in apparent approval for Wright, the emcee who had just introduced Kearney.

“It was awesome,” Kearney said, recalling how the whole town seemed to come together to celebrate. “It was a magnificent day.”

Jim, caught off guard, was also clearly tickled as he quietly took in the many smiling faces around him.

A lot of people have told him over the last decade how much his case transformed their lives. Many have cried upon meeting him. Some have said his victory gave them the courage to come out to their families and friends, and even to themselves. One told him she was preparing to take her own life until his win.

Still, Kearney’s story might be his “new favorite,” he said.

For starters, it was darn funny, he said. But it also was rooted in queer acceptance in a small community not unlike the coastal town a short ferry ride away, Sandusky, Ohio, where Jim grew up — and now lives again.

It captured something Jim has observed in his own life the last few years in Ohio, something that might be his greatest legacy, especially in light of recent political efforts to push LGBTQ+ rights backward and queer people back into the closet.

Kearney’s story captured people in an average, not especially progressive American community not just accepting their queer neighbors and friends — but celebrating their right to love.

Signs mark the city limits and some of the notable residents of Sandusky.

Murals and paintings seen in downtown on a Sunday in June.

At home in Sandusky

The night before the comedy show, Jim was in Sandusky, hosting a dinner party in his well-appointed and art-adorned apartment with about a dozen of his closest friends, family and neighbors.

He served some of his own wine — he’s a co-founder of Equality Vines out of Guerneville — and ordered a bunch of pizza, including a Sandusky special: sausage and sauerkraut.

There was his older brother and sister-in-law, Chuck and Janice Obergefell, who recalled traveling to D.C. for the Supreme Court arguments. Their kids are also close to Jim.

“The minute we heard you were going to Washington, we just thought, ‘Wow, this is too cool,’” Janice told Jim. “We’re awfully darn proud of you, but you know that.”

Chuck had worked his whole life in local plants, and had known a few gay men there — regular blue-collar guys who also happened to be the “friendliest people I’ve ever met,” he said. So when Jim came out to him in the early 1990s, it didn’t bother him much, though he did worry about HIV/AIDS.

“I just told him, ‘You’re my brother, I love ya, just be careful,’” Chuck said.

“Then he brought John around,” said Janice, of Jim’s late husband John Arthur.

“And I liked John more than Jim!” Chuck said with a wry smile.

There were several of Jim’s oldest and dearest friends, including Kay Hollek, a friend since they were 4; Judi Nath, a friend since 7th grade; Jennifer Arthur, his 1984 prom date; and Betsy Kay, a friend from high school chorus.

There were also newer friends from town, including Marsha Gray Carrington, a photographer and painter whose work adorns Jim’s walls, and from Jim’s “gayborhood,” as he called it — including neighbors Dick Ries and Jim Ervin, a married couple who briefly employed Jim as a Sandusky segway tour guide, and Debbie Braun, a retired Los Angeles teacher who, like Jim, decided to move back to her hometown.

The conversation ranged freely from Jim’s personal legacy to local politics in Sandusky, which is moderate compared to the red rural towns and bigger blue cities nearby. The talk jumped to national politics and recent attacks on the LGBTQ+ community, which have made some of them worry for Jim’s safety as “an icon of a movement,” as his former prom date put it.

An oil painting hangs on the wall of Jim Obergefell’s parents’ home in June.

Ries and Ervin, who started dating about 17 years ago, drew laughs with a story about learning of the Supreme Court decision. Ervin was bawling — tears of joy — when he called Ries, who was driving and immediately thought something horrible had happened.

“I think the house has burned down, he’s wrecked the car, the dog is dead,” Ries said with a chuckle. It wasn’t until he pulled over that he understood the happy news.

The couple had held off having a marriage ceremony because they wanted it to be “real,” including in the eyes of their home state, Ervin said. After the ruling, they quickly made plans, and married less than 8 months later on Feb. 6, 2016.

“To me, it was profound that once and for all, we could all get married,” Ervin said.

Jim Obergefell, left, and John Arthur, right, are married by officiant Paulette Roberts, rear center, in a plane on the tarmac at Baltimore/Washington International Airport in Glen Burnie, Md., in 2013.

(Glenn Hartong / The Cincinnati Enquirer via Associated Press)

The group talked about what kept them in or brought them to Sandusky: family, the low cost of living, small-town friendliness. They talked about the other queer people in their lives, including some of their children. They mentioned how the only gay bar in town recently closed.

In between the heavier discussions, they chatted in the warm, cheeky patterns of old friends catching up over pizza and wine. At one point, Jim and several of his girlfriends gathered in the kitchen to discuss — what else? — Jim’s dating life.

Just the week before, Jim said, he had realized he was “ready to let go” of John’s ashes, to spread them somewhere special as John had requested, and finally ready to date again.

“I’m open,” he said, as his girlfriends’ eyes lit up.

The case that landed Jim before the Supreme Court started during one of the hardest periods of his life, when John was dying from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig’s disease. The couple had been together for decades, and in July 2013, three months before John’s death, exchanged vows in Maryland, one of the states that recognized same-sex marriages at the time.

However, Ohio refused to acknowledge that marriage, meaning that, when John died, Jim would not be listed as the surviving spouse on his state death certificate. So they sued.

For years after John’s death and the subsequent court rulings in their favor, Jim kept busy co-writing a book, traveling the country giving speeches and attending Pride events and LGBTQ+ fundraisers as a guest of honor. He was mourning John, too, of course, but amid so many other draws on his focus and attention, he said.

“It’s almost like you didn’t get to do it right away,” said Betsy. “You had it delayed.”

After living in Cincinnati from 1984 to 2016 — most of that time with John — Jim moved to D.C. for a few years, but “missed Ohio,” he said.

In 2021, as the COVID pandemic raged, he found himself increasingly lonely, he said, so he decided to move back to Sandusky to be closer to family and friends. Since then, he has been happier, rekindling old connections, making some new ones and even running — unsuccessfully — for office.

Betsy, a mother of nine — some queer — and a ball of energy, said it’s wonderful to have Jim back in town. The one catch, she acknowledged, is the gay dating pool in Sandusky, population about 24,000, is not exactly deep.

To make matters worse, Jim is hopelessly oblivious when it comes to flirting, she said. The other women in the kitchen nodded.

Taking the cue, Jim went to his bedroom and returned with a small pin Betsy had given him, which read, “If you’re flirting with me, please let me know. And be extremely specific. Seriously, I’m clueless.”

Jim looked around his apartment, in his hometown, brimming with fiercely loyal friends and family who not only love him, but want him to find love.

Thanks in part to him, it was a scene that lucky, happy queer people might find familiar nationwide.

A “Greetings from Sandusky, Ohio” sign.

The Ceiling Art Company and a row of buildings on West Market Street downtown.

Jim Obergefell holds a button with a message that reads in part, “if you’re flirting with me please let me know.”.

Back on the island

Shortly after Kearney’s set at Put-in-Bay Pride, Kristin Vogel-Campbell, a 45-year-old bisexual educator from nearby Port Clinton, approached Jim at his booth.

Her friend had just pointed Jim out — told her who he was — and she just had to thank him.

“You’ve done so much for our community,” she said. “You put yourself out there, and did the work that was needed to get the job done.”

Jim, not anonymous after all, smiled and thanked her.

A few moments later, Kearney came through the crowd, high-fiving and hugging old friends. When they, too, were told who Jim was, their jaw dropped.

“Are you serious? … Hold on.”

Marc Wright, left, and Molly Kearney snap a picture together at Put-in-Bay Pride on June 9.

(Courtesy of Marc Wright)

Kearney ran over and grabbed Wright out of another conversation and explained who Jim was. Wright’s eyes went wide — then he reached out and touched Jim on the chest, as if to verify he was real.

Kearney, sticking their arms out to show goosebumps, said, “I have the chillies.”

Kearney doesn’t often include the story of the Supreme Court ruling in their sets, they said, but thought the local crowd would get a kick out of it, because they knew that day had meant a lot to so many people.

“That day — thanks to you — was a very big day for me,” Kearney told Jim. “I didn’t feel fully comfortable — I still don’t — so that day was really important, because everyone was, like, cheering!”

Wright nodded along.

He first came to Put-in-Bay from Cleveland when he was 21 — or a “baby gay,” as he put it. And initially, it was intimidating. “It’s easy to feel like an outcast in a small community, because you’re living in a fish bowl,” he said.

Soon enough, however, the town made him one of their own. People on the island “knew I was gay before I knew, and everyone was like, ‘Yeah, it’s OK,’” Wright said.

He said such acceptance, which has only grown on the island since, is thanks to pioneers like Jim — and like Kearney, whose own success has increased understanding of nonbinary people.

“Just to have Molly go out and live their life so unapologetically, it’s so validating,” Wright said.

Introducing Kearney that afternoon, Wright had thanked the crowd — many of them locals — for proving that Put-in-Bay stands for love and equality, especially at such a difficult time for the LGBTQ+ community.

“Put-in-Bay is for everyone — one island, one family,” he said.

Now, as Jim praised the event, saying it was just the sort of thing that’s needed in small towns all across the country, Wright beamed.

New York Jets owner Woody Johnson has signed a “legally binding contract” to buy John Textor’s 43% stake in Crystal Palace in a deal believed to be worth close to £190m.

Palace confirmed the news in a statement on Monday, but it has yet to be announced whether it boosts the club’s fight to be cleared to play in next season’s Europa League.

Palace said the deal is pending approval from the Premier League and Women’s Super League.

“We do not envisage any issues and look forward to welcoming Woody as a partner and director of the club,” the south London club added.

“We would like to go on record to thank John Textor for his contribution over the past four years and wish him every success for the future.”

Eagle Football Holdings – the multi-club company owned by Textor – bought a stake in Palace in 2021 for around £90m.

Johnson, like any such major investor, will have to pass the Premier League’s owners’ and directors’ test.

It is understood that the American businessman indicated he can transfer the funds quickly.

This is believed to have been a crucial factor in why his offer was favoured ahead of two other interested parties, given the predicament in which Palace find themselves with European football’s governing body Uefa regarding their 2025-26 Europa League entry.

Palace could lose their spot in Europe, earned by winning last season’s FA Cup, on the basis of Textor’s perceived involvement at Selhurst Park.

Uefa has been considering whether Palace breach its rules about multiple teams under one multi-club ownership structure competing in the same European competition.

This is because Textor has a stake in French club Lyon, who also qualified for the Europa League.

Stones has been with City for nine seasons after joining from Everton for £47.5m.

He has enjoyed a trophy-filled spell at the club, winning six Premier League titles, the Champions League, two FA Cup and four League Cups, while also being capped 83 times for England.

Though he has played 277 games for his club, he only managed 13 starts last term, including six in the Premier League.

“I think we all self-doubt as players and feel things, and we want to get back as quick as possible. Maybe that’s a downfall sometimes that you try and push too soon,” he said.

“Definitely family [help], I think that’s my biggest thing, being around them and having their support.

“You can feel very lonely at times when you’re training by yourself and that’s the difficult part of it, being in a team sport, not training with the team when you run out on the pitch in your rehab.”

Stones has suffered a succession of foot, hamstring and thigh injuries over the past two campaigns, missing a total of 164 days and 33 games, according to Transfermarkt., external

Stones said: “There’s been points where you think you’ve been giving all this effort, you dedicate all your life – especially how I approach or go about my life and football, I give everything – on and off the pitch to be here or be ready to play games, and those are the dark days.

“I think everyone’s been through them and think, ‘why is this happening?’. You wish it would have gone a different path, but like I said, it’s self-doubt, there’s a lot of things.

“All of us have been through different upbringings and challenges through life and what did we do within those situations, was it fight or was it give up?

“I was a fighter from a young age, in difficult moments, you have to look at the bigger picture and realise what are your morals, what you believe in, and fight to make it worthwhile.”

Whether the process of Textor selling his stake in Palace influences Uefa’s final decision remains to be seen.

But it does provide an indication the businessman is open to severing ties with Palace, an eventual scenario that could allow the Premier League club entry into the Europa League.

The other two parties in the running are unconfirmed but well-placed sources have indicated that a globally-renowned entertainment giant based in Florida have shown an interest, while another consortium that includes the NBA star Jimmy Butler also have a reported interest.

Investment vehicle Sportsbank – who were named as the preferred bidder to buy into Eagle at a time Textor was looking for investment – have also shown an interest in making an offer.

However, it is claimed that it would have taken around a month for Sportsbank to draw the financial contributions from their investors from the Middle East and the US which would not suit Textor’s need for a quick sale to help aid Palace’s case with Uefa.

Sources claim that Johnson is best placed among the interested parties to pass the Premier League’s owner’s and directors test given his estimated £3.39bn fortune and his status as globally-renowned businessman. He is the heir to the Johnson & Johnson pharmaceutical company.

Uefa are expected to make a decision on whether Palace can participate in the Europa League by the end of June.

The Glasgow club say they are “surprised” by the charge over Brown’s comments and will “continue to challenge any action we consider to be unfair or disproportionate”.

The SFA rule states: “A club or recognised football body which publishes, distributes, issues, sells or authorises a third party to publish, distribute, issue or sell a match programme or any other publication or audio/visual material of any description in any media now existing or hereinafter invented, including but not limited to the Internet, social networking or micro-blogging sites, shall ensure that any such publications or audio/visual material does not contain any criticism of any match official calculated to indicate bias or incompetence on the part of such match official or to impinge upon his character.”

Rangers note that four out of five members of the SFA’s Key Match Incident Panel deemed the decision to be incorrect, adding that they have “serious concerns about the Scottish FA’s selective enforcement and inconsistency”.

“That finding helps explain the nature of a spontaneous emotional comment, delivered during a highly charged moment and immediately challenged live on air,” Rangers add.

“We have highlighted multiple examples of similar or stronger remarks made elsewhere in Scottish football that have led to no charges or sanctions.

“While we remain committed to maintaining high standards, we will continue to challenge any action we consider to be unfair or disproportionate.”

John Stamos was by Beach Boys founding member Mike Love’s side when news of bandmate Brian Wilson’s death on Wednesday was made public. The “Full House” star was also the messenger who delivered the heartbreaking news to Love, Wilson’s cousin-turned-longtime collaborator.

“I said, ‘Mike, your cousin passed away,’ and his face went blank,” Stamos, an honorary Beach Boys member, recalled to the New York Post. “And we sat in the car for two and a half hours or so … he didn’t say one word.”

Wilson, the genius behind the Beach Boys, died Wednesday at age 82. The singer’s family announced his death on social media and his website, writing in a statement, “We are at a loss for words right now.” A cause of death was not revealed, but Wilson was diagnosed with dementia and placed under a conservatorship in May 2024. Wilson, who co-founded the Beach Boys in 1961 with brothers Dennis and Carl and cousin Love, also battled mental health issues and drug addiction for decades.

Stamos, 61, relived the somber moment on Thursday ahead of the Songwriters Hall of Fame induction ceremony in New York, where Love was among the newest group of inductees that included George Clinton, Rodney “Darkchild” Jerkins and the Doobie Brothers. Though Love remained speechless after learning of Wilson’s death, Stamos said, “I knew how he was feeling.” The actor, who has performed with the Beach Boys over several decades, also spoke to the Post about Love, 84, and Wilson’s relationship, noting “they made beautiful music together.”

During the Songwriters Hall of Fame ceremony, Stamos introduced Love, who paid tribute to Wilson, as “my brother in music.” His sentiments on Thursday added to his social media tribute to Wilson on Wednesday.

“Brian Wilson wasn’t just the heart of The Beach Boys—he was the soul of our sound,” Love wrote as he reminisced on the group’s early days and Wilson’s lasting contributions to music.

Love added in his tribute: “Our journey together was filled with moments of brilliance, heartbreak, laughter, complexity and most of all, LOVE . Like all families, we had our ups and downs. But through it all, we never stopped loving each other, and I never stopped being in awe of what he could do when he sat at a piano or his spontaneity in the studio.”

Stamos was among the high-profile figures who paid tribute to Wilson on social media. Elton John, the Rolling Stones’ Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood, Mick Fleetwood, Bruce Springsteen, Nancy Sinatra and California Gov. Gavin Newsom also honored Wilson.

“Wilson fundamentally changed modern music, helping make the Beach Boys not only the defining American band of their era, but also the California band to this day,” Newsom said in a statement. “He captured the mystique and magic of California, carrying it around the world and across generations.”

The Beach Boys established a quintessentially California sound with popular tracks including “Surfer Girl,” “California Girls” and “Wouldn’t It Be Nice.”

Wilson is survived by six children, including daughters Carnie and Wendy, who made up two-thirds of the Grammy-nominated pop vocal group Wilson Phillips with the Mamas and the Papas scion Chynna Phillips. He is preceded in death by his wife, Melinda, who died in January 2024. His brother Dennis drowned in 1983 while diving in Marina Del Rey, and Carl, his other brother, died of lung cancer in 1998.

On the day he turned 17, Jack Champlin gave himself his own best birthday present, one he got to share with his teammates.

The junior right-hander needed 27 pitches to retire all seven batters he faced to wrap up St. John Bosch’s 4-0 shutout of San Diego Patrick Henry in the Southern California Regional Division I championship game.

“I’m going to dinner with my family and my girlfriend,” he said when asked what he would do to celebrate. “I’m not sure where yet, but there are a lot of good places around here and we’ll make a decision.”

Champlin pitched in all seven playoff games for the Braves, picking up two wins and five saves, giving up no runs allowed in 11 2/3 innings.

“I don’t really feel the pressure … as a closer you need to have confidence in your stuff and I’m just happy to be put in that position,” said Champlin, who fielded a grounder back to the mound and underhanded a toss to first base for the final out of the season. “We knew our starter [Brayden Krakowski] had pitched earlier in the week and only had 14 outs remaining, so the gameplan was for me to come in after that or before if necessary. As it turned out I was able to finish each playoff game with the ball in my hand every single time.”

Krakowksi allowed three hits and got all the support he needed in the first inning, as James Clark led off the bottom half with a triple and scored on a single by Noah Everly. Miles Clark added a two-out RBI single. In the next inning St. John Bosco doubled its lead when James Clark hit an RBI double and later scored on an infield single by Jaden Jackson.

St. John Bosco closer Jack Champlin struck out three of the seven batters he faced to earn the save Saturday afternoon against Patrick Henry.

St. John Bosco beat eighth-seeded San Diego St. Augustine 2-1 in the first round and No. 5 Villa Park 7-4 in the semifinals in a rematch of the Braves’ 4-3 nine-inning triumph in the Southern Section Division 1 quarterfinals.

Patrick Henry had lost 3-0 to Granite Hills in the San Diego Section Open Division final but after back-to-back victories over two of the best Southern Section teams in Santa Margarita and Crespi, the Patriots (23-11-2) came to Bellflower confident they could upset the No. 1-ranked team in California.

It did not happen. Instead, the Braves notched their 19th consecutive win, 30th in 34 games and capped an historic campaign, which included a 3-2 walk-off victory over Santa Margarita to capture the program’s first Southern Section crown May 30 after losing to Beckman 2-1 in eight innings in the Division 3 title game last season.

“We’ve proven ourselves,” Champlin said in the midst of a celebration on the same field where he and his returning teammates rallied to defeat Bakersfield Christian 5-4 and claim the Division III regional championship last June.

Champlin took the hill with one out in the top of the seventh inning in last year’s regional final, got the final two outs, and was credited with the win when the Braves scored the game-ending run on a balk in the bottom of the inning.

Saturday’s achievement was even sweeter because it was accomplished at the highest level and was a testament to second-year coach Andy Rojo, who held the first-place plaque high and declared “We won the West!” as his players surrounded him.

“It’ll take a lot for any team to match what we’ve done winning by three titles in one year — the Trinity League championship, the Southern Section Division 1 championship and the regional Division I championship,” said Rojo, who got his squad to the top of the mountain despite losing 12 players to graduation — including pitcher Anthony Cosme (Cal Poly Pomona), center fielder Julian Villasenor (Washington State) and first baseman Zach Woodson (Pepperdine). “Tomorrow will be two months since we lost a game (the Braves last suffered defeat on April 8 against Santa Margarita). I couldn’t be more proud.”

CINCINNATI — All-Star right-hander Corbin Burnes of the Arizona Diamondbacks is set to undergo Tommy John elbow surgery, ending his season early in the first year of a $210 million, six-year contract.

Manager Torey Lovullo said Friday the decision was made with “a lot of people weighing in.” Lovullo said the surgery probably would be scheduled for next week.

The announcement came three days after the Diamondbacks put Burnes on the 15-day injured list with right elbow inflammation.

The 30-year-old left his most recent start with Arizona leading 3-0 in the top of the fifth inning Sunday. After Burnes allowed a single by CJ Abrams with two outs, he gestured toward the dugout with his glove and yelled in frustration.

Burnes allowed a run and four hits in 4 2/3 innings. He is 3-2 with a 2.66 ERA in 11 starts this season.

Burnes signed with the Diamondbacks after earning his fourth consecutive All-Star nod in his only season with Baltimore last year. He spent his first six years with Milwaukee before an offseason trade to the Orioles in early 2024.

“This is a tough day to get this news,” Lovullo said. “But we’ll find a way to rally around him, play hard for him all year long.”