Caitlin Clark & Star Athletes Need To Speak Up! | The Ricky Cobb Show

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New York Jets quarterback Aaron Rodgers faces major decisions this offseason, compounded by unexpected tough times.

Rodgers, 41, could potentially retire this offseason and stay with the Jets, or he could leave New York for a different team.

The four-time MVP faces many questions. But to start the year, Rodgers is dealing with the LA County wildfires, one of which threatened his home in Malibu.

Appearing on "The Pat McAfee Show" on Thursday, Rodgers shared his experience of being affected by the wildfires at his Malibu area home. Rodgers also said he's been witness to arsonists starting fires in the county.

"I’ve been dealing with trying to protect my house out here," Rodgers said on "McAfee." Rodgers has been dealing with friends losing their homes in the wildfires.

"My home is fine. I’m not in the areas that have been affected, but it’s been a weird time for so many that live down here. Friends of mine have lost houses. A number of friends in Palisades have lost their homes, a number of friends in Pasadena were affected, friends around Runyon Canyon."

Rodgers acquired a $28 million home in Malibu, Calif., during his relationship with professional NASCAR driver Danica Patrick.

"The really disheartening thing aside from a loss of a home, because it is more just a house, it's the arson," Rodgers added. His Malibu home was without power for several days.

"There is a ton of arson. There is a ton of arson in LA in general. It is one of those things people don't like talking about in SoCal cos of all the money that goes to various initiatives.

"You have people legitimately starting fires in areas. The Runyon Canyon fire, that was arson, a fire was started. There was a fire that was started real close to my house, that was arson, [but] that thankfully got put away really quick."

California Governor Gavin Newsom and Los Angeles City Mayor Karen Bass were blamed for their slow response to last week's fires, which destroyed tens of thousands of acres.

Several LA teams canceled games due to the area's fires and bad air quality.

Athletes and coaches in the area, including Lakers coach JJ Redick, who lost his residence in the Pacific Palisades, were also affected.

"So that's the s***ty part about all this. The beautiful part is how people have come together," Rodgers continued.

Rodgers also discussed his potential return to New York for his 21st season next year. The Jets QB threw for 3,897 yards, 28 touchdowns and 11 interceptions. After dumping Robert Saleh and Joe Douglas, the Jets are searching for their next head coach and general manager.

"I think everybody understands that it’s going to come down to the GM and coach and myself," Rodgers shared, "and whether we all want to do the dance together or if it’s not in the cards."

Send us your thoughts: alejandro.avila@outkick.com / Follow along on X: @alejandroaveela

The Palisades Fire is destroying places that I’ve loved.

By Nancy Walecki

We knew to expect winds. When they came on Tuesday morning, sounding like a tsunami crashing over my family’s home in western Malibu, the utility company shut off our power. We knew the chance of fire was high.

I had arrived home for the holidays in early December, and had already been greeted by the Franklin Fire, which had burned the hills black. Now, when my dad and I went in search of electricity, a great plume of smoke was rising above those burned hills. It cast out over the Pacific, just as it had during the Woolsey Fire that tore through Malibu in 2018. The way the wind was blowing—rattling our car, scattering palm fronds and tumbleweeds across the road—we knew this new fire would probably hit Topanga Canyon, the mountain community where I grew up. Dad decided we needed to get up there and help our former neighbors. People who have lived in this area for decades, as my family has, can get so used to evacuation warnings that they don’t always follow them.

Yesterday, the fires burning around Los Angeles were frightening; overnight they became a terror. A fire this strong, at this time of year, is unusual, an outlier. But it is also familiar, one in a series of fires that, as a seventh-generation Californian, I’ve lived through, or my family has. It has destroyed places that I’ve loved since childhood; it’s not the first fire that’s done so. To some of our friends and neighbors, this fire seemed manageable—until it didn’t. Today, it is, as one friend said, a hell fire.

On the way to Topanga Canyon, Dad and I stopped to watch the fire burn. The flames were coming into a neighborhood where two of my childhood friends grew up, just beyond the Pacific Palisades, where the blaze had started. The way the fire was burning, I couldn’t imagine that the Palisades was still standing. The main road was closed—these winds can dislodge rocks and rain them down on cars—so we took back streets. “You can tell people are emotional from the way they’re driving,” Dad said, after someone whipped around a blind turn. We made it to the house of a friend, another old-timer who, like Dad, had lived through the 1993 fire, the one that got so close, it warped the double-pane glass in my childhood home. He told us he’d be fine, based on the way the wind was blowing, and offered to make us a pot of coffee while he still had power—he’d heard they’d be shutting it off in the next hour. Dad said it looked like the flames had reached the mouth of Topanga Canyon, and our friend promised he’d get ready to evacuate. “But nothing will ever be as bad as ’93,” he said.

When Dad and I got home, our power was still out. The city had issued evacuation warnings in a nearby neighborhood. Should we get ready? A month before, we’d packed up the family photos and the birth certificates for the Franklin Fire, and our house had been fine. Our Malibu neighbor, who stayed behind during the Woolsey Fire, tends not to worry. But the winds were so strong, she thought this one could be worse than all the others.

That night, Dad and I decided to get back in the car, to see how close the fire was. When we managed to open the front door against the wind, we were coated in a fine layer of dust. The houses around us were dark, all their power out. Driving on the highway this time, instead of smoke, we saw flames.

The friend we’d visited that afternoon called us. “I’m on the freeway now,” he said. “I got the hell out of there. We’re toast. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

From a radio broadcast, cutting in and out, we could hear the gist of the damage so far. “Malibu Feed Bin”—where my family would buy dog food and pet the rabbits—gone. “Topanga Ranch Motel”—the bungalows where I’d wait for the school bus—gone. “Reel Inn”—a seafood restaurant where employees would handwrite ocean puns beneath its neon sign—gone. “Cholada Thai”—a high-school standard where my friends and I still gathered—gone. “Wiley’s Bait & Tackle,” a wooden shack opened in 1946, where my brother and I would gross each other out looking at lugworms—gone.

My ancestors came to California before it was even a state; we have lived through decades of Santa Ana winds coming in off the desert and shaking our houses so powerfully, we lose sleep. But my brother and I also used to stand outside our childhood home, our backs to the wind, and toss stones into a nearby canyon, laughing as the Santa Anas carried them farther than we could ever throw. The winds are part of life here, and one that I’ve always, probably foolishly, loved.

Last night, my parents and I kept our phones on in case any emergency notifications came through. This morning, our power was still out. We have loaded the family photos and the birth certificates in the car and are ready to leave if the evacuation notice comes. Even as the fires are still burning, my parents are already talking about how they will handle this all better “next time.” We will get a larger coffee press so that, next time, we can each have two servings when the power goes out. We will get a camp stove so that, next time, when the gas shuts off, we won’t have to boil water on the barbecue.

Mom just told me that her friend sent her some new photographs: My childhood home, which she and my Dad built together in Topanga Canyon, may be gone. For now, the fire is still on the other side of Malibu. The wind is still blowing.

Nancy Walecki

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Paris Hilton is the latest celebrity to lose their home in the Palisades Fire.

The heiress and entrepreneur’s beachfront house in Malibu has been burned down, she confirmed in an emotional social media post on Wednesday.

“Heartbroken beyond words.???? Sitting with my family, watching the news, and seeing our home in Malibu burn to the ground on live TV is something no one should ever have to experience,” Hilton, 43, wrote while sharing local news coverage of her area.

She reflected on the memories she’s had in the house, noting it’s a special place for her two young children.

“This home was where we built so many precious memories. It’s where Phoenix took his first steps and where we dreamed of building a lifetime of memories with London,” Hilton continued.

“While the loss is overwhelming, I’m holding onto gratitude that my family is safe. My heart and prayers are going out to every family affected by these fires,” she said. “To all the people who have lost their homes, their memories, and their beloved pets. My heartaches for those still in harm’s way or mourning greater losses. The devastation is unimaginable.”

The Malibu house is not Hilton’s main residence. The “Cooking with Paris” star owns multiple properties in the Los Angeles area.

On Tuesday, Hilton posted about the fire on her Instagram story.

“Praying for LA/California,” she wrote across an aerial photo showing fires raging through the Pacific Palisades neighborhood.

Hilton also shared resources for those affected by the fire and organizations that people looking to help can donate to.

The Palisades Fire was first reported Tuesday at 10:30 a.m. PT. By nightfall, the blaze had spread to more than 2,900 acres and torn through the Pacific Palisades neighborhood of Los Angeles.

Tens of thousands have been forced to evacuate their homes as the wildfire continued to wreak havoc across the Pacific Palisades. Several other fires have also started to rage in the region.

The flames were fanned by winds that reached over 100 miles per hour in some areas.

Hilton was not the only celebrity to be affected by the fire. Mark Hamill, Ben Affleck, Jamie Lee Curtis, Eugene Levy and Mandy Moore are among those who have evacuated their homes.

Reality TV stars Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag, Oscar nominee James Woods, along with Adam Brody and Leighton Meester, have lost their homes to the fires.

Reese Witherspoon, Steven Spielberg, Michael Keaton, Rita Wilson and Tom Hanks are among the other stars who have homes in the Palisades.

Hanks’ son, Chet, took to Instagram on Tuesday to share his thoughts on the disastrous fire.

“The neighborhood I grew up in is burning to the ground rn,” he wrote. “Pray for Palisades.”

The cause of the Palisades Fire is under investigation.

The Eaton Fire in the Altadena area of LA has claimed the lives of five people, according to local authorities.

Parts of Malibu and Santa Monica were still under evacuation orders and warnings as of Wednesday afternoon.

Nicholas Mathews wasn't going to take any chances.

As fires engulfed the nearby Pacific Palisades, he decided to evacuate his rehabilitation center, Summit Malibu, before the flames reached it too. Thankfully, he has another addiction treatment facility − Stillwater AddictionTreatment Center in Montecito − and could relocate his residents there, where they can continue their recovery.

"We have very robust evacuation plans and a strategy to keep people safe, but there is no avoiding the fact that it's the exact opposite of what you want to accomplish," Mathews says. "In any wellness space or in treatment, it disrupts the entire process. It creates anxiety and stress. All the things that we're trying to prevent, it creates."

Still, he says, it's a blessing to allow his Malibu residents to continue their recovery amid the disaster. Other rehabilitation centers, he says, aren't so fortunate.

Many know Malibu as one of the most thriving hubs of wellness, not just in Southern California, but in the world. With its tranquil coasts and lush mountains, the city draws people from around the world in search of healing.

Many also come to Malibu specifically to recover from addiction, and the city is home to several rehabilitation facilities that offer a place to get sober in peace.

Now, as devastating wildfires threaten that community, many of those who came to Malibu for healing are seeing their worlds turned upside down.

"It's almost like apocalyptic," Mathews says of the wildfires, likening them to the Woolsey Fire in 2018, which also ravaged Malibu. "It really is the most eerie feeling. It feels like a movie or some video game set in a dystopian future. It's scary stuff."

Malibu is a healing hub. This week, it's in flames.

There are a few reasons why Malibu became such a haven for addiction treatment.

For starters, it's surrounded by nature − and a secluded place for the rich and famous of Los Angeles to seek treatment away from the prying eyes of the public, without traveling too far from home.

Malibu fire damage:Photos capture destruction and firefighters' heroic efforts

Its proximity to Los Angeles also gives Malibu the benefit of access to some of the best mental health professionals in the country. Mathews describes Malibu − and Southern California more broadly − as "consistently on the cutting edge of behavioral health science in the country."

"All these new things that come out over the years that we find are helpful for addiction and mental health are right in our own backyard," he says.

Mathews personally knows the challenges of recovery, as well as the essential role one's environment can play in their success with getting sober.

Malibu, he says, offers recovering addicts "an opportunity to reinvent yourself and discover who you are and what's important to you."

This week, a massive fire broke out in the Pacific Palisades, destroying homes, schools and businesses. Thousands of people throughout Los Angeles have evacuated their homes due to fires, which also broke out in Hollywood, Sylmar and Altadena. Malibu, located directly next to the Palisades, has also seen devastating damage from the fires, which were worsened due to powerful winds, low humidity and dry vegetation.

In addition to putting facilities at risk, the fires also undermined one of the main aims of Malibu rehabs − to provide as stress-free an environment as possible. Getting sober, Mathews says, is already hard enough, let alone doing it amid a natural disaster.

"If you are displaced from your home, you feel naturally insecure," Mathews says. "When you couple that with a population that is inherently anxious, suffers from depression, suffers from already feelings of inadequacy and insecurity as a result of their substance abuse or their mental health issues or their trauma, you name it, these things are compounded."

'It's a heartbreaking thing'

When natural disasters strike, people's priorities get streamlined quickly according to Maslow's hierarchy of needs, psychotherapist Stephanie Sarkis previously told USA TODAY.

First come the essentials: food, water and shelter. Once those get sorted, other needs start to come to the fore, particularly ones stemming from trauma and grief. Sarkis previously said it can take months − even years − before people who've been through a tragedy like a wildfire can process what they've been through.

Mathews says he's heard from people who have seen their Malibu rehabilitation facilities destroyed. Many of them, he says, run small, boutique operations.

"You hear about, 'Oh, my treatment center burned down, and that's it. It's over,' " he says. "People literally shut their doors because of things like this, and their clients get displaced. Their employees get displaced. It's a heartbreaking thing."

As for Summit Malibu, Mathews says he doesn't know yet what, if anything, remains of it.

No matter what, he says, he believes Southern Californians will continue coming to each other's rescue.

"That's one of the most beautiful things about Los Angeles," he says. "As aggressively divided as we can become, when anything catches on fire, we all come together. Politics be damned. There's no more, none of that stuff. We all come together and we support each other because we know that this does not discriminate. It affects everybody equally."

These false-color (Bands 12-8A-4) reflectance images show before and after images of the Franklin Fire in Malibu, California. The images were captured by the Multi-Spectral Instrument (MSI) instrument aboard the ESA (European Space Agency) Sentinel-2B platform. Swipe the bar left and right to see the before image from December 3, 2024, on the "A" left side; the after image from December 18, 2024, on the "B" right side; and the extent burned during that fire event (burned area appears red, and unburned vegetation is green). Click the icon in the upper right corner to interactively explore this fire in NASA Worldview.

The Franklin Fire began on December 9, 2024, and strong Santa Ana winds caused the fire to rapidly spread to 2,600 acres (11 square kilometers) within a day. The fire burned more than 4,00 acres (16 square kilometers).

The image above shows the OPERA Vegetation Disturbance Status (Color Index) layer overlaid on top of the false color (bands 12=8A-4) reflectance image on December 18, 2024. This layer maps vegetation disturbance, specifically vegetation cover loss, by pixel. Vegetation disturbance is mapped where there is an indicated decrease in vegetation cover within a 30m pixel. The displayed layer describes vegetation disturbance status based on confidence, magnitude of loss, and whether it is ongoing.

There are three confidence levels: "first detection," which is loss detected in only the most recent observation; "provisional" upon a second detection of vegetation loss; and "confirmed" once there are sufficient loss detections to reach high confidence of disturbance. These are reported for both disturbances with <50% vegetation cover loss and those with ≥50% loss, whether diffuse across an entire pixel or just a portion of it. These labels persist as long as the anomalies continue to be detected. Once a location no longer has low vegetation cover, confirmed alerts are labeled as "finished" and the others are reset to no disturbance.

In this case, most of the burned area pixels are identified as "Provisional <50%" (greenish khaki color) which indicates this is the second detection of vegetation loss, which further confirms that the area lost vegetation due to the fire.

The input dataset for generating each product is the Harmonized Landsat Sentinel-2 (HLS) dataset. The OPERA Land Surface Disturbance (L3) imagery layer is available through the Observational Products for End-Users from Remote Sensing Analysis (OPERA) project.

Visit Worldview to visualize near real-time imagery from NASA's Earth Science Data and Information System (ESDIS); find more imagery in our Worldview weekly image archive.