
August 10, 2026
THE DODGERS: EVERYBODY CALM DOWN
Yes, the Dodgers are losing.
Yes, they look terrible.
Yes, approximately nine guys appear to approach every at-bat with the enthusiasm of someone waiting for their number to be called at the DMV.
And no, I’m not panicking.
Welcome to the dog days of summer.
The Dodgers look exhausted and disinterested. The bullpen has been worked like an Amazon distribution center in December, and right now every reliever who jogs through that bullpen door looks like he just received a text saying, “Hey, can you cover another shift?”
This isn’t ideal.
It’s also August.
The cavalry is coming. Blake Snell should provide another major arm for the rotation this week, and eventually Tyler Glasnow should be back as well. That matters because suddenly you aren’t asking the bullpen to record 14 outs every night while simultaneously wondering why everybody’s arm looks like it’s about to detach from their body.
The Dodgers don’t need to win 12 straight games right now.
They need to get healthy.
They need to get their pitching lined up.
And they need to start playing their best baseball sometime around late September.
And while we’re here, can we address everyone complaining about the Dodgers’ spending and how their dominance is “bad for baseball”?
Please.
Cry me the Pacific Ocean.
Where was all this concern for competitive balance when the Dodgers were getting bounced out of the playoffs every year?
Where was the national outrage when other organizations were laughing at them?
Now they’ve built a monster, spent money, developed players, attracted stars and figured out how to operate like the Death Star with a scouting department.
Suddenly everybody wants regulations.
Funny how that works.
THE ANGELS: WAIT… ARE THEY ACTUALLY GETTING SOLD?
I have absolutely no inside information suggesting Arte Moreno is selling the Angels.
But I have eyes.
And this organization is starting to look suspiciously like a house that’s been professionally staged for an open house.
Think about it.
Interim GM.
Manager on a one-year deal.
Pieces being moved at the deadline.
Minimal long-term organizational commitments.
That’s an awful lot of flexibility for whoever might theoretically walk through the door next.
I’m just saying.
If you wanted to sell a baseball franchise, wouldn’t you want the new owner to have the ability to install their own president, general manager, manager and organizational philosophy without spending two years cleaning out the previous regime?
Because that’s basically what the Angels are creating.
Maybe it’s coincidence.
Maybe it’s organizational restructuring.
Or maybe one glorious morning we’re all going to wake up to the headline Angels fans have been waiting years to see:
ARTE MORENO AGREES TO SELL TEAM.
At which point there may be a parade down Katella Avenue before the new owner has even been identified.
In the meantime, there’s another fascinating development:
Angels tickets are disgustingly cheap.
You can practically attend a Major League Baseball game right now for the price of parking at a Major League Baseball game.
So if you’ve been looking for an inexpensive summer night out, congratulations.
The Angels have finally discovered their competitive advantage.
Affordability.

THE LAKERS: APPARENTLY WALKER KESSLER COST THEM THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE
I cannot take another segment of national NBA analysts explaining how the Lakers have MORTGAGED THEIR FUTURE for Walker Kessler.
Enough.
They traded two first-round picks and two swaps that, barring some spectacular organizational apocalypse, may never even convey.
And somehow this transaction is being discussed like Rob Pelinka drove to Utah, handed over the deed to Crypto.com Arena, surrendered every draft pick through 2047 and tossed in Magic Johnson’s statue.
Meanwhile, other teams make enormous trades and everybody suddenly becomes a Rhodes Scholar explaining roster construction.
The Pacers make a major move?
“Aggressive. They identified their window.”
The Knicks?
“You have to pay for talent.”
The Magic?
“I love that they’re pushing their chips in.”
The Lakers?
“THIS IS FINANCIAL MALPRACTICE. WHAT ABOUT THE 2032 DRAFT?!”
Please.
Hating the Lakers has become the NBA hipster position.
And here’s the inconvenient part:
They won 53 games last season.
That happened despite Luka Doncic missing roughly a quarter of the season and Austin Reaves missing about a third of it.
Now they’re younger.
They’re deeper.
They’re more athletic.
And they addressed several of the exact weaknesses everybody spent last season screaming about.
Do they still need wings?
Absolutely.
I’m not pretending this is the 1996 Bulls.
But can we stop analyzing this roster like it’s frozen in carbonite for the next five years?
This isn’t necessarily the team they’ll have in February.
It certainly isn’t necessarily the team they’ll have two summers from now.
They have Luka Doncic.
They have Austin Reaves.
They have Walker Kessler.
They have flexibility to keep changing the roster.
But apparently because they’re the Lakers, every transaction must be evaluated as though it’s the final move the franchise will ever be allowed to make.
THE CLIPPERS: THE KAWHI STORY SOMEHOW KEEPS GETTING WEIRDER
Every time I think the Kawhi Leonard situation can’t sound worse…
It sounds worse.
Now we’re hearing about another sponsorship arrangement raising questions about potential salary-cap circumvention.
Wonderful.
Because apparently the Clippers weren’t satisfied with merely having one bizarre Kawhi financial controversy.
They needed a cinematic universe.
If the NBA ultimately determines rules were violated, the league should come down hard on everyone involved.
Will it?
We’ll see.
There are enormous personalities, enormous money and enormous politics involved here.
But let’s appreciate the absurdity of the larger Clippers story.
This franchise finally convinced a legitimate superstar to voluntarily sign with them.
That alone was historic.
And what did it take?
They had to mortgage a gigantic portion of their future to acquire Paul George because Kawhi wanted another star.
They endured years of injury uncertainty.
And now we’re discussing multiple financial arrangements that have raised cap-circumvention questions.
All to get one superstar to choose the Clippers.
Do you understand how incredible that is?
The Clippers found someone weird enough to voluntarily say:
“Yes. This is where I want to spend the prime of my career.”
And apparently even THAT wasn’t straightforward.
Now their future is murky, the Kawhi situation is increasingly uncomfortable, and the organization that was supposed to take over Los Angeles is once again generating headlines for everything except actually taking over Los Angeles.
This franchise is screwed.
But hey.
Intuit Dome is beautiful.

USC FOOTBALL: ARE WE DOING THIS AGAIN?
USC enters the season ranked No. 14 in the preseason Coaches Poll, and I have no idea what to do with this information.
Because we’ve seen this movie.
USC has talent.
USC can score.
USC has athletes.
Lincoln Riley can design an offense.
Wonderful.
Now can they line up against a gigantic Big Ten offensive line in November and stop somebody on 3rd-and-2?
Because that’s the question.
USC doesn’t play in the Pac-12 anymore.
This is the Big Ten.
You occasionally have to travel halfway across the country in weather that feels like you’re playing football inside a Costco freezer and try to tackle a 238-pound running back who has been consuming whole milk since birth.
Are the Trojans tough enough?
That’s what I want to know.
Especially defensively.
Especially along the lines.
Because until USC proves otherwise, this still feels like a talented team trying to prove it has the physicality necessary to consistently win in a conference filled with enormous human beings.
But I’ll give Lincoln Riley this:
The opportunity is there.
People aren’t expecting USC to win the national championship.
They’re No. 14.
They’re relevant without carrying ridiculous expectations.
Go prove everybody wrong.
Because if USC can combine Riley’s offensive creativity with a legitimately physical football team?
Now you’ve got something.

UCLA FOOTBALL: WAIT A SECOND… WHAT IS BOB CHESNEY COOKING?
Meanwhile, across town, something interesting is happening.
Very quietly.
Bob Chesney is building something at UCLA.
Recruiting momentum has picked up considerably, talent is coming in, and suddenly UCLA doesn’t feel like the Big Ten program everyone circles on the schedule and writes a W next to in permanent marker.
Will the full impact show up in 2026?
Probably not.
Building a college football program takes time.
But I’m fascinated to see what Chesney can squeeze out of this roster immediately.
Because sometimes a coaching change doesn’t instantly produce a championship contender.
Sometimes it simply produces something much more important:
Competence.
Organization.
Development.
Players believing they’re supposed to win.
And UCLA has enough talent that if Chesney can get them playing disciplined, physical football, this could become one of those annoying teams nobody wants to play.
I’m not saying UCLA is winning the Big Ten.
I’m saying don’t be shocked if sometime in October you’re watching them knock off a ranked team and thinking:
“Wait… UCLA is actually good?”
That would be progress.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON: GOOD. NOT GREAT. DEFINITELY NOT THRONES.
And finally, because Monday Morning recognizes that sometimes dragons are more entertaining than middle relief pitching…
House of the Dragon wrapped its season Sunday night.
My grade:
B.
It’s good.
I watch every episode.
I’m entertained.
The production is spectacular.
The dragons are awesome.
And yet…
It’s just not Game of Thrones.
And I finally figured out why.
The characters aren’t nearly as interesting.
Game of Thrones could give you 15 minutes of Tyrion drinking wine with Bronn and somehow it was more entertaining than half the television shows ever created.
Tywin could have a conversation at a dinner table and you’d be terrified.
Littlefinger could say three sentences and you’d spend the next week wondering which kingdom he was secretly trying to overthrow.
Varys was hilarious.
The Hound was hilarious.
Tormund was hilarious.
Even characters who hated each other were funny.
House of the Dragon?
Everybody is miserable.
All. The. Time.
Nobody tells jokes.
Nobody seems to enjoy dinner.
Nobody appears to have hobbies.
It’s essentially two families spending several decades angrily discussing succession planning.
Which, admittedly, becomes more entertaining when succession planning occasionally involves a 200-foot dragon incinerating a castle.
We know there’s only one season left.
And those of us familiar with the source material have a pretty good idea where this is headed.
So now the challenge is simple:
Stick the landing.
Give us the battles.
Give us the betrayals.
Give us the dragons.
Give us the chaos.
And maybe—just maybe—allow one person in Westeros to make a joke.







































