Khaled El-Ahmad made only small ripples with player additions during the primary transfer window earlier this season.
Now Minnesota United’s Chief Soccer Officer has completed a move he and the club hope can make a big splash.
MNUFC announced Saturday the signing of 24-year-old striker Kelvin Yeboah to a 3 1/2-year Designated Player contract trough 2027, with a club option for 2028. The Loons will pay Italian club Genoa a transfer fee of approximately 3.2 million.
“Kelvin is an exciting young player that already has vast playing experience amongst some of the best soccer players across the globe along with world-class clubs,” El-Ahmad said in a statement. “Minnesota welcomes Kelvin, and I look forward to seeing the impact he can make within our club.”
Yeboah has played in Italy’s Serie A, the German Bundesliga, France’s Ligue 1 and the Belgium Pro League A, but the 6-foot forward has not played more than 720 minutes in a season since 2021-22.
Yeboah had 15 goal contributions (11 goals and four assists) for Sturm Graz that season, leading to his transfer to Genoa. He then got caught in a cycle of three loan moves to Augsburg, Montpellier and Standard Liege and failed to play significant minutes.
Since February at Standard Liege, he had six goals in 14 games in all competitions. He averaged an impressive 0.82 goals per 90 minutes across his six league games this year, per fbref.com.
Yeboah, who was in Minnesota to complete medical exams this week, said he was impressed by what MNUFC presented.
“The most important thing is always the project, from the soccer staff to my teammates, all the way up to ownership,” Yeboah said in a statement. “I loved the way the team and the club has been presented to me. Everyone here has ambitions to win and that’s what I want to be a part of.
“I will bring a mentality to never give up and always give my best,” Yeboah continued. “Fans will see me on the field playing with passion and screaming and giving my all. My mentality, mixed with my speed, strength and technical ability will help me succeed here in Minnesota. My goal is to influence the game as much as possible.”
The Loons’ history with DP strikers has had more misses than hits, including mostly underwhelming stints with Angelo Rodriguez, Adrien Hunou, Luis Amarilla and Mender Garcia. The addition of Yeboah could signal the pending end for current DP striker Teemu Pukki; the 34-year-old has 14 goals in 1,907 minutes across two seasons in Minnesota. His contract is up next July.
Yeboah, who was born in Ghana and is a Italian citizen, will occupy an international roster spot with Loons and will be eligible to play pending his immigration paperwork.
You don’t have to be political to appreciate the difficulty of the choice President Joe Biden just made. Not to over-simplify, but at its core, leaving the presidential campaign was a decision about retirement.
It’s a question faced by millions of American workers each year, as we finally come to the tail end of the baby boom generation. According to a frequently quoted report from the Alliance for Lifetime Income (April 2024), we’ll see 4.1 million Americans reach 65, the traditional age of retirement, by the end of this year. Between 2024 and 2030, a record 30.4 million will achieve this milestone.
Will they all retire? Many already have, while perhaps as many as 20% will work to 70 or 74. This makes sense: Despite its symbolic meaning, we’ve known for years that 65 is no longer the default age for leaving the workforce.
People retire at their own pace and for their own reasons. Many make the choice unwillingly, due to poor health or difficulty finding suitable work. Others choose to stop working when their assets reach a certain level. And still others opt for a semi-retired lifestyle, working part-time while drawing from Social Security or retirement funds.
For those continuing to work, the decision may be financial, but for many it reflects a continuing interest in the work itself, or a need to interact with others.
Do some people hang on too long to their work lives? Undoubtedly. Conversely, some find they have retired too soon, and eventually “unretire” or start a new venture to replace what they feel is missing.
If you’re in your 50s or 60s but not yet retired, the decision is likely gaining prominence in your thinking. You already know to review your finances and talk with a planner to help calculate how much you’ll need. Here are some other steps to add to your process.
Ask yourself: What are you retiring from?
It’s important to distinguish between retiring from a job and retiring from working altogether. In the first case, you may be ready for something new or longing for fewer responsibilities, while the second option means you would be exiting the work world completely.
This distinction will impact everything from your timing to how you describe your decision to others. For example, if you want to stay in the work force, it’s strategic to call your exit a transition rather than a retirement, even if that’s what your employer is calling it.
Learn the rules
You probably already know that your age at retirement impacts your Social Security benefits, but what about withdrawals from your retirement funds, or rules concerning your pension, if you have one?
You’ll also need to confirm that you and your family will have health insurance post-retirement. If you’re planning to rely on Medicare, understanding what’s covered and when it starts will be important.
Another consideration
Also, your workplace may have standards defining under which conditions you can return in the future, should you choose to. Likewise, if you’re drawing a union pension, you may find yet another set of rules describing what work you can do once you’ve retired.
Even if your potential retirement is years away, it’s worth doing some of this research now. Having a general sense of the rules will help with your planning in the meantime.
Picture the outcome
When you imagine yourself post-retirement, what are the specifics? Having a vision of the next stage can be critical to both the decision itself and how you implement it. For example, someone who is planning self-employment might arrange for a 4-day workweek in the year before retiring, to allow time to develop the business. Likewise, a worker who plans to contract their services in their current field would benefit from internal and external networking before they leave their company.
What if your retirement vision includes relocating to another state? One idea that has worked for others: If your target date is a ways away, and if your company happens to have work in that state, perhaps you could transfer now, and enjoy your company’s support while you get re-established in your (pre-) retirement home.
Consider your current housing
Speaking of homes — if you’re expecting to change homes during retirement, consider front-loading that activity. Whether you’d be renting or owning your next place, this kind of financial transaction is usually easier when you can demonstrate income. The same goes for other large purchases, such as a car or camper.
Don’t get overwhelmed
It’s a lot to consider, but at some point the decision to retire might not be optional. Building plans early on can relieve stress, while also providing flexibility to make changes if needed.
PARIS (AP) — Sip a cool caipirinha cocktail in Brazil. Sample a spicy samosa in India. Boogie down with a DJ in France ’til the early hours. Or, do all three in a day — and perhaps meet some athletes, too.
If you’re in Paris but don’t have tickets for the Olympics, organizers want you to know that you can spend your days — and boozy nights, too — at the Parc des Nations, or Nations Park, which is hosting 15 festive national team clubhouses in what amounts to a mini-World’s Fair on the edge of Paris.
The project gives a temporary new name to Parc de la Villette, a sprawling 135-acre (55-hectare) space in the northeastern corner of the capital. It opens Saturday, once Friday’s ambitious opening ceremony on the Seine River is over, along with its enormous security demands.
Imagine one huge, multicultural fan zone. The idea is for visitors to connect with each other, with Olympic athletes (who will come for medal celebrations) and with the Games themselves, organizers said.
“The slogan of these Olympics is ‘Games Wide Open,’ and we wanted to bring that to life,” said Amelie Guignabert of Paris 2024, the Olympic organizing committee. “We really believe in it.”
All they need, she noted, is the fans — and officials are advertising in the Paris Metro and elsewhere.
Certainly, there is room for them. The biggest house is not surprisingly, Club France, where there is capacity for 5,000 to 6,000 people inside and 20,000 in the outside spaces, which include two huge fields.
Other team clubhouses are Casa Brazil, Canada Team House, Casa Colombia, Czech House, India House, Casa Mexico, Team NL (Netherlands) House, Mongolia House, Serbian House, Slovak House, Slovenian House, Chinese Taipei Pavilion, Volia Space (Ukraine) and Ekhaya South Africa.
Inside Club France is a large stage, where athletes will appear after winning medals and where nightly music events will be offered, including sets from DJs like Bob Sinclar, said Arnaud Courtier, executive director of Club France.
“We like to party,” he said.
Fans can pay 5 euros ($5.42) and stay as long as they like, watching Olympic competitions on a giant screen and athlete interviews, cheering medal winners and buying food and drink. Or, they can buy a package that could run up to 385 euros ($418) for an all-night open bar and a prime spot on the stage.
Outside are some 20 makeshift pavilions designed by architecture students that house various French sports federations. Among other activities, visitors will be able to learn from coaches and try their hand at sports.
The project started with a decision to put Club France at La Villette, said Sophie-Justine Lieber, the park’s general director. Then, countries that didn’t have clubs elsewhere decided to join in.
The park, with its many structures, was able to accommodate particular needs — for example, Slovenia and the Czech Republic wanted places with kitchens to emphasize their national cuisines, and Mongolia wanted outdoor space to erect yurts, the traditional circular dwellings.
As for beach volleyball? That’s an attraction at Brazil’s house, along with music like samba and funk. And, of course, the national cocktail, caipirinha, as well as pao de queijo, the Brazilian cheese bread.
Organizers at India’s pavilion announced it was the country’s first house at an Olympics, a step toward their dream of bringing the Games one day to India.
India House spares no effort to highlight the country’s rich culture — it has brought in a huge loom, for example, where artisans are weaving traditional saris and carpets. Among many exhibits, one wall displays Gond art from the state of Madhya Pradesh, along with photos of every Indian athlete competing this year.
A key face among them: javelin thrower Neeraj Chopra, a star in India who has 9 million Instagram followers.
There will be Indian food, of course — samosas, spiced chai tea, savory dhokla and more. Bollywood music will play, and fans will be able to try yoga and cricket.
Organizer B. Srinivasan, greeting the media Tuesday evening, declared these Games a perfect moment to introduce a new India and pointed to the many notables India has exported to the world – including political figures with Indian heritage like Rishi Sunak, the former British prime minister. And, in the most timely of references, Kamala Harris, the U.S. vice president who is now running for the top job after President Joe Biden ended his campaign for a second term.
SAN QUENTIN, Calif. — To someone living outside these dank walls, the changes might seem small.
A sergeant greets a prisoner with “good morning” rather than barking an order. Guards start calling the prisoners “residents.” They shake hands, exchange jokes.
The toilet paper locker gets replenished when its empty. The men don’t have to ask.
At California’s oldest and most infamous state prison, a monumental shift is underway through an experiment dubbed the California Model, an effort Gov. Gavin Newsom announced in March 2023 to reimagine prison life, starting at San Quentin.
San Quentin state prison, established in 1852, is the launching site for Gov. Gavin Newsom’s efforts to revamp prison culture with a greater focus on recovery and rehabilitation. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/TNS)
The changes are modeled after prison operations in Norway and other Scandinavian countries, where incarceration is considered less a tool for punishment than an opportunity for recovery and rehabilitation.
Newsom said he envisions a prison system that doesn’t just confine lawbreakers but better prepares them for reintegrating into communities after their release. That means expanding job training and substance-use treatment, but also replacing a prison culture built on hierarchy and fear with opportunities for connection and normalized social interactions.
It will take years and hundreds of millions of dollars to fully implement the California Model at San Quentin. And whether there’s support for expanding the approach across the state’s 32 prisons hinges on what plays out at this 172-year-old institution over the next few years.
In some ways, San Quentin was the easiest place to start.
Perched on some of the most expensive real estate in California, the prison’s Marin County location affords connections with a host of progressive Bay Area research and legal aid groups eager for reform work.
The prison also encompasses the extremes of corporal punishment: Until recently, it housed the state’s death row for men, a grim unit of concrete and iron, where narrow cells are stacked five stories high. There, some of the state’s most brutal sociopaths and serial killers have lived out their days in what is effectively solitary confinement.
Outside death row, most of San Quentin’s 3,400 inmates are housed in units with medium-security ratings. That means, whether because of the nature of their crimes or their behavior in prison, they’re considered at relatively low risk of violence and allowed to gather in common areas for some portion of each day. The prison has developed an abundance of rehabilitative programs, including coding classes and a media center that’s home to an acclaimed prisoner-run podcast and newspaper.
At Newsom’s direction, the state Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation has spent the past year emptying death row, systematically transferring the roughly 630 condemned men to other prisons. San Quentin is to be reenvisioned as a full-out rehabilitation center that builds on the existing programs.
“It’s not nearly finished, but some of the most significant innovations in the corrections system in California were occurring and have been occurring at San Quentin for a long time,” said Sacramento Mayor Darrell Steinberg, a longtime Newsom ally and lead advisor of a 21-person council charged with bringing the California Model into focus.
The next major step is a projected $239 million construction project to bulldoze an old factory on the prison grounds and replace it with with airy classrooms, a fresh foods market and, one day, a prisoner-run coffee shop.
But transforming the culture will take more than bulldozers and lattes. The model relies on a dramatic shift in relations among officers and prisoners, two historically warring factions in a system built on clannish gamesmanship for survival.
And that’s proving more complex than building a cafe.
“We, the incarcerated person, are indoctrinated. The staff are as well,” said Steven Warren, a prisoner serving time on a domestic violence conviction and also a leader with San Quentin SkunkWorks, a nonprofit made up of prisoners and outside advocates focused on criminal justice reform.
Those interpersonal changes require a level of vulnerability in a culture that is wary of trust and unaccustomed to change, Warren said.
The condemned men on San Quentin’s death row are being transferred to other facilities as the state looks to refashion the prison as a rehabilitation center. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/TNS)
San Quentin SkunkWorks hosted a guard-vs.-prisoner chess tournament at the prison, hoping to break down barriers between the historically warring factions. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/TNS)
San Quentin SkunkWorks hosted a guard-vs.-prisoner chess tournament at the prison, hoping to break down barriers between the historically warring factions. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/TNS)
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The condemned men on San Quentin’s death row are being transferred to other facilities as the state looks to refashion the prison as a rehabilitation center. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/TNS)
To break through some of the barriers, SkunkWorks coordinated a chess tournament in March between prison staff and prisoners, with checkered tables set up in a gym in the prison yard. Officers in green uniforms sat on one side, incarcerated men in their prison blues on the other.
Some players seemed skeptical, sitting in silence and studying their boards without making eye contact. Others seemed to enjoy the rivalry, trading biting barbs about their opponent’s skills.
At the far end of one row, Officer Richard Kruse claimed an easy victory over Jessie Milo after knocking his rook out with a bishop.
“He was so sure,” Kruse laughed, poking fun at Milo’s strategy. He offered friendly feedback for the next game.
“I’ve taken advice from a (corrections officer) before and ended up in the hole,” Milo said, only half joking. He was referencing a history in some prisons of guards egging on inmate violence only to throw people into solitary confinement afterward.
Kruse knocked his head back and gave a great bellow. “He’s not going to the hole today,” Kruse said.
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Milo, 44, is serving a life sentence for attempted murder, tied to a shooting he committed in his 20s. He’s developed an interest in art at San Quentin and serves as a mentor to younger men coming in. For the chess tournament, he designed a “California Model” poster to hang in the gym, painted half in blue for the imprisoned, half in green for the guards.
Milo wants to see the California Model succeed: “We can’t keep fighting each other expecting a different outcome,” he said. But he can’t help but have doubts.
Along with chess matches, San Quentin is hosting kickball tournaments and flag football games as a way to foster more collegial relations. But prisoners are still locked down for several hours a day in cramped cells — two men sharing dingy 5-by-11 foot quarters crammed with bunk beds, a toilet and a sink — without access to programming or family visits, Milo said.
Other than Kruse and a handful of other officers, Milo said, most prison staff are at best resistant, more often hostile, toward the changes.
“They feel the incarcerated people are being coddled,” Milo said. “The California Model is not really a grand gesture. The California Model is just kindness, courtesy and normalcy.”
Kruse, 31, with an easy manner and boyish grin, is one of the few openly enthusiastic supporters of the California Model.
His mom worked in administration at San Quentin, so Kruse has lived on the prison grounds since he was a kid. He joined the guard ranks at 21 and says he loves his job so much, it would take something “catastrophic” to leave — like “an earthquake shifting San Quentin into the sea.”
The work feels personal. In 2013, his mom had a heart attack on the job. She survived because a prisoner performed CPR long enough to stabilize her before paramedics arrived. Her survival is something he keeps in mind as he walks the yard — and before he decides to write someone up for a rules violation.
“I’ve always been a big believer that a lot of the way we go about treating at least most of these guys is kind of unnecessary,” Kruse said. “So when (the California Model) became an official policy, I was stoked.”
Kruse was placed on a “resource team” to help with the cultural shift, one of a small group of officers who help set up events such as the chess match and work with condemned men preparing to transfer out of death row.
Multiple times a week, Kruse engages death row prisoners, first conversing through the bars, then inviting someone to join him in an old prison hospital room re-purposed for social interaction. The room is decorated in a kaleidoscope of murals painted by condemned men, and stocked with board games.
An avid gamer, Kruse brought in his Nintendo Switch and spent some of his own money to fill the shelves with games like Uno, Just One and Tsuro. His hope is to use the games — and the interaction around friendly competition — to model “pro-social behavior” for men preparing to transfer to other prisons.
As part of the death row dispersal, many of the condemned men will be able to mix with the general prison population at their new facility. For most, it will mark an unsettling shift after decades of near-total isolation at San Quentin.
On a recent June day, Kruse sat in the room with Wayne Adam Ford, a convicted serial killer who in 1998 turned himself in at the Humboldt County Sheriff’s Office carrying a woman’s severed breast in a plastic bag. Ford said the sessions have helped him reacclimate to other humans after years of living in the darkness of his mind.
“I wasn’t sane then. I’m not sure I’m all that sane now,” he said. “But I’m saner than I was.”
The interactions can be uncomfortable, Kruse said. But he considers the lessons in socialization worth it — both for the guys who will never get out of San Quentin and especially for the many men who eventually will.
“There’s a lot of people at San Quentin that have either already halfway turned their lives around, or are trying to get that push to turn their lives around,” Kruse said. “They’re gonna leave someday. … That’s going to be your neighbor, might be your family member’s neighbor. Those guys, if I can work with [them] to make [them] better, that, to me, is what it’s about.”
San Quentin SkunkWorks hosted a guard-vs.-prisoner chess tournament at the prison. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/TNS)
“There’s a lot of people at San Quentin that have either already halfway turned their lives around, or are trying to get that push to turn their lives around,” says Officer Richard Kruse. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/TNS)
San Quentin is hosting chess matches, kickball tournaments and flag football games as a way to foster relationships and more normalized social interactions in prison life. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/TNS)
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San Quentin SkunkWorks hosted a guard-vs.-prisoner chess tournament at the prison. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/TNS)
Still, Kruse concedes he’s an anomaly. He estimates he’s among 5% of staff who consider themselves avid supporters of Newsom’s vision. But it’s a start. “As far as it comes to getting staff on board, I think every institution has at least a few people who are willing to give this a genuine shot,” he said. “And from there … it’s like pebbles down a mountain.”
Tiffanie Thomas, legislative relations representative for the California Correctional Peace Officers Assn., the union representing 27,000 corrections workers, takes a more skeptical view.
While Thomas is generally supportive of the California Model — and any reforms that would make prison work less stressful — she said many officers worry that the push for a more “Shangri-La, fa-la-la” environment poses a safety threat. Officers spend their shifts with their heads on a swivel, she said, ever on guard in case a fight breaks out or they’re attacked. After all, it’s “still prison.”
“Nobody is focusing on the fact that if something happens, we still have to be trained to do certain things,” Thomas said. “Just because we’re calling something pretty doesn’t make it actually pretty.”
Adding to the challenges: Even after a decade of legislative efforts to ease sentencing laws, California remains a state of mass incarceration.
The state’s prison population is vastly larger and more complex than the prison system in Norway that the California Model draws on for inspiration. While Norway’s longest prison term is typically two decades, more than 30,000 people are serving life sentences in California.
Steinberg, the advisory council chair, acknowledged the major differences, noting, “We’ve never said that we’re just going to take the Norway Model and put it on top of California and boom, that’s the change.”
Still, he said, the idea that California should be doing more to prepare people for life outside prison — giving them the social skills and training they need to thrive once they’re released — seems not only humane but a wise investment given the costs of incarceration.
“I really am a big believer that the way you make systemic change is to plant a big seed,” Steinberg said, adding that it also requires patience. “It’s going to take — I don’t know how long — hopefully less than a generation.”
Miguel Sifuentes is among those who want to believe the changes underway will be meaningful.
Sifuentes, 45, is serving a life sentence for first-degree murder, stemming from his role in the 1998 shooting death of a sheriff’s deputy in Alameda County. During his decades behind bars, he’s tried to improve himself through classes and self-help programs.
Sifuentes took part in a basketball game between prisoners and guards in November that was covered by a local TV station. During an interview after the game, Sifuentes called out to one of the guards, who ran over and embraced him in a warm, unscripted hug. Sifuentes, overcome with emotion, sobbed on the officer’s shoulder.
Hugging the officer was a “restorative moment,” Sifuentes later told The Times, “a small amend to the law enforcement community” he harmed 26 years ago.
For Sifuentes, who has twice been denied parole, the notion of a kinder, gentler San Quentin has appeal. It is for now — and maybe forever — his home.
But the more contentious changes, he said, lie ahead. There’s such a “narrow way out of this place,” Sifuentes said. What will it take for the state to recognize his remorse and rehabilitation? And for the public — even the guard who embraced him — to welcome him home as their neighbor?
“Is California,” he asked, “willing to have the harder conversations about who we are going to let out?”
