
Can somebody please check on LeBron James? Actually, never mind. He’s fine. He’s just enjoying the annual tradition of reminding the basketball world that the calendar doesn’t officially start until he says so.
There is absolutely no basketball reason his decision hasn’t been made yet. If you’re staying, stay. If you’re leaving, leave. If you’re retiring, announce it. Instead, we’ve reached the point where the NBA schedule is apparently sitting on Adam Silver’s desk with a giant sticky note that reads, “Waiting on LeBron.”
And here’s the funny part.
Everyone wants to blame LeBron.
Nope.
This is an NBA problem.
At some point Adam Silver has to simply say, “Here’s the schedule. Figure it out.”
Can you imagine the NFL delaying its entire schedule because Aaron Rodgers hadn’t made up his mind? Roger Goodell would release the schedule, shrug his shoulders, and tell everyone to enjoy Thanksgiving football.
The NBA created this monster. LeBron is simply taking advantage of it.
The Lakers’ Summer League, meanwhile, has quietly become the happiest place in Los Angeles.
No, nobody is planning the championship parade because Cameron Carr hit a couple of threes in Vegas.
But Cameron Carr looks like he belongs.
Adou Thiero looks like he belongs.
More importantly, both look like legitimate NBA rotation players—not just “Hey, let’s see what happens in garbage time.”
That’s significant.
Because every solid young wing the Lakers develop makes them just a little less desperate.
And desperation is expensive.
Which brings us to Jonathan Kuminga.
I still want him.
In fact, I’d absolutely pursue a sign-and-trade.
His athleticism fits perfectly with Luka. His age fits the timeline. His upside is obvious.
But every day his market keeps shrinking.
Suddenly the Lakers have leverage they didn’t have a month ago.
Funny how patience is a virtue…unless your name is LeBron James.

The Dodgers opened the second half exactly the way you’d want.
Two out of three.
On the road.
Against the Yankees.
That’s a successful weekend no matter how you slice it.
Now comes the part where Andrew Friedman earns his paycheck.
Please…
Trade for pitching.
Lots of pitching.
Because I’m apparently supposed to believe that by October we’re going to have Blake Snell healthy…
Tyler Glasnow healthy…
Shohei Ohtani healthy enough to pitch meaningful innings…
AND Will Smith surviving another season catching nearly every important game.
Sure.
While we’re making wishes, I’d also like to win the lottery.
The Dodgers should be making aggressive calls for Tarik Skubal.
Yes, it’ll cost a fortune.
Championships usually do.
They also need another defensive catcher. October baseball becomes a completely different sport when every pitch matters, every runner matters, and every passed ball becomes a season-ending highlight.
This roster is outstanding.
But outstanding teams still patch obvious holes.

Speaking of organizations that enjoy pretending everything is fine…
The Angels.
They currently own the worst record in baseball.
Congratulations.
Mission accomplished.
Now we’re hearing that Arte Moreno has supposedly signed off on trading Reid Detmers and José Soriano.
Really?
Now?
After spending what feels like fifteen consecutive years refusing to acknowledge reality?
I’m suddenly supposed to believe that Molly Jolly and John Mozeliak walked into Arte’s office, delivered one convincing PowerPoint presentation, and he finally said, “You know what? Maybe rebuilding is the right idea.”
Forgive me if I wait until the trades actually happen before I believe this organizational epiphany.
The Angels have teased rebuilds the same way Lucy keeps teasing Charlie Brown with the football.
At some point the fan base deserves to actually see someone kick it.

The World Cup has officially come to an end, and honestly…
I’m going to miss it.
For one glorious month, the entire sports world revolved around one event.
Different countries.
Different cultures.
Different languages.
Everyone watching together.
It was fantastic.
Unless, of course, you happened to be rooting for Argentina.
Because it felt like literally every neutral fan on Earth suddenly became Spain’s biggest supporter.
Argentina has become international sports’ version of the New York Yankees.
You either love them…
…or you’re desperately hoping someone—anyone—beats them.
And then there was halftime.
Madonna.
Coldplay.
Shakira.
Justin Bieber.
Burna Boy.
BTS.
Basically FIFA looked at Coachella and said, “Cute festival. Hold my corruption.”
Say whatever you want about FIFA—and there is certainly plenty to say—but they know how to stage an event.
The World Cup felt massive every single day.
That’s not easy to pull off for an entire month.

Finally…
The Rams.
The whispers continue getting louder that Aaron Donald may actually return.
Let’s be honest.
Nobody expects 2018 Aaron Donald.
Nobody expects Defensive Player of the Year Aaron Donald.
But even if he’s only 60 or 70 percent of the player he once was…
Have fun blocking that.
Quarterbacks already lose sleep preparing for Sean McVay’s offense.
Now imagine having Aaron Donald collapsing the pocket again while Myles Garret continues to dominate the edge.
That’s enough to make offensive coordinators update their résumés.
Sometimes greatness doesn’t have to be fully restored.
Sometimes it just has to show up.
And that’s exactly why the rest of the NFC should probably hope these rumors stay rumors.






































