The Brief

A lawn game with Scandinavian roots has taken over the pint-sized Los Angeles suburb of South Pasadena. If devotees have it their way, the game "kubb" will be on many more people's minds, just like that other little power sport that has transformed tennis courts the world over.

"Nothing will ever catch on like pickleball," said John Pettersson, a South Pasadena resident and commissioner of the Los Angeles Kubb Club.

But "like Pickleball, [kubb] is for all ages. The barrier to entry is very low and you don't need to be a top flight athlete to be good at it," he added.

How kubb is played

Kubb, pronounced koob, has been described as a blend of bowling and horseshoes, "where you stand around with your friends chatting and having fun and throwing things across the yard," Pettersson said.

The gameplay is pretty simple: Two teams, with up to 6 players on each side, try to knock down as many wooden blocks in their opponent's camp as possible by tossing wooden batons (underhand tosses only) within an area — or "pitch" in kubb parlance — of roughly 26 feet by 16 feet.

"Do you like throwing things at other things? Everybody does, right? Well, it's a good outlet for that," Pettersson joked.

The history of kubb

Wood batons and wooden blocks are all you need to play kubb.

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Andy Lemon

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Courtesy Los Angeles Kubb Club

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Kubb is sometimes known as "Viking chess" — linked to the rumor that Vikings had played the game using the skulls and bones of their conquered enemies during the Middle Ages.

Legends aside, the game is commonly believed to have originated from Sweden in the early 1900s.

Landing in the U.S.

A century later, it found its way to the U.S. While there's no definitive documentation of when the very first game of kubb was played stateside, the sport has grown to such a degree it warrants its own national championship.

That's thanks in large part to Eric Anderson of Eau Claire, a city of about 70,000 people in Wisconsin.

"We have the largest weekly kubb league in the world. Pretty much every school in our school district has kubb sets. I can go on and on," said Anderson, director of the U.S. National Kubb Championship that's held every July in Eau Claire.

Anderson and his wife were living in Sweden in the mid-2000s where he attended graduate school. Upon returning to the states, they brought with them their love for the lawn sport.

In 2007, the couple moved to Eau Claire, "sight unseen." Despite not knowing anyone in their new adopted home, Anderson decided to start a national kubb tournament that raised money and awareness for the atrocities in Darfur.

Players compete at the 2023 U.S. National Kubb Championship.

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Courtesy U.S. National Kubb Championship

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In that first year, Anderson estimated about 15 teams, or around 35 people, participated. The tournament has now grown to comprise of 144 teams with some 500 players — traveling in from states including Texas, Arkansas, Washington, New York, and of course, California.

Besides the national championship, there's an East Coast variety, a West Coast variation and other competitions at the state level, Anderson said.

Given its influence, it's only fitting that Eau Claire is known formally as the Kubb Capital of North America.

"In 2011, I went to the city manager, asked him to [name Eau Claire] as the Kubb capital of the U.S. And he laughed and said, 'no, how about Kubb Capital of North America?'" Anderson said. "I think the city manager was just like, 'Let's go bigger.' I wasn't gonna argue with him."

The South Pasadena contingent

For the folks thousands of miles away in South Pasadena, they first learned about kubb through a chance encounter in New York.

"So the guy we call the forefather of Kubb in Southern California is also a resident of South Pasadena," said Julie Halverson, a kubb player who lives in Highland Park. "Joe Zenas saw the game being played in a park in New York and brought it here."

A group of residents quickly embraced the game, but all roads to kubb always lead back to Eau Claire.

"An early group of them went out to Eau Claire, Wisconsin, to play [and] check out the national championship, and then came home and got really excited about it," Pettersson said.

That was about nine years ago — shortly before the Los Angeles Kubb Club was founded. Today, more than 20 teams — with names like Ace of Baseline, Poplar Mechanics, and Kubbix Rubes — play against each other at various parks in the L.A. area.

West Coast Kubb Championships

On April 28, the L.A. Kubb Club will host the 8th Annual West Coast Kubb Championships in South Pasadena, where players travel from kubb powerhouse states like Minnesota and Wisconsin to compete.

Competition aside, Halverson and Pettersson said the vibe at any kubb game is always cordial, kid friendly and welcoming of newcomers, even if you have never swung a baton at a wooden block in your life.

"People who play it often come back for more," Pettersson said.

How to watch

2024 West Coast Kubb Championships
When: Sunday, April 28, starting at 9 a.m.
Where: Orange Grove Park, 815 Mission St., South Pasadena
More info here

2024 U.S. National Kubb Championship
When: July 12-14, 2024
Where: Eau Claire, WI
More info here

In a cozy dance studio in Garden Grove, dancers of all experience levels, ages and backgrounds flock to Queer Latin Dance OC to learn the steps to salsa, cumbia and bachata.

For many, the dance class is more than educational — it’s a place to get away from it all, to find community and to uplift one another through art.

When Rodrigo Marquez founded Queer Latin Dance OC at the beginning of this year, he said he was filling a gap in Orange County that often lacks safe spaces for the LGBTQ+ community.

“I wanted to make creative communities for us to learn in a safe environment,” Marquez said. “Everyone's here to learn, and I want the pressure of whatever's going on in the world, just to forget for the next hour.”

Queer Latin Dance OC meets three times a week to learn the steps to salsa, cumbia and bachata.

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Destiny Torres

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LAist

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What are the dance lessons like? 

When creating his teaching plan, Marquez said he considers the range of experience his students might have. Everybody starts somewhere, he added, and the hardest part is showing up.

“It is scary, but if you're already showing up, then just jump in and just forget about the world. It's a great distraction, and dancing makes you feel better,” Marquez said.

Philip Lee, an elementary school teacher from Tustin, took his first class with the group Monday night, trying the quick steps of salsa.

“I had a stressful day. … All my stress that I had in my neck and upper back just kind of went away,” Lee said, adding that the high energy in the room is infectious. “It was nice just laughing with people in the community and meeting new people.”

Lee said the dance lesson gave him a space to be with community.

“The queer community specifically, and just kind of let my guard down and just be free and laugh and enjoy being me and celebrated for a love for the arts,” Lee said. “That's not a space that is always safe.”

Before taking lessons at Queer Latin Dance OC, Melba Rivera said she came in with zero dance experience.

“You come as you are. No matter what level you're at or how you identify or what your experience is, everybody's here and everybody's learning,” Rivera said. “It's a very encouraging and motivating space.”

Salsa and bachata are social dances, Marquez said, but one thing that makes his class unique to many is that regardless of gender identity, anyone can follow or lead.

Typically, the lead falls to the male dancer, and women follow. Marquez said it was important that no one feels pressured to be one or the other.

“That's why I created this, so people like me can just come and learn, not be expected to be in a gender role based on how they look,” Marquez said. “They want to dance how they feel.”

Why it matters

Taryn Heiner said, especially in Orange County, it’s challenging to find spaces that are queer-friendly and queer-open.

“That's really what makes this space so kind and warm and welcoming,” Heiner said. “We have all that base understanding of respecting one another, no matter who they are, who they love and what they do.”

Growing up in Orange County, not every room you walk into is a safe space, Rivera added.

“So walking into a room like this, where everybody's friendly, everybody's learning, everybody's just here for the same purpose to get better, to support each other, is really important,” Rivera said. “Not just in the class, but [in] the friendships we make outside of the classroom.”

Outside of dance class, Marquez’s students meet up for monthly hikes and other get-togethers. Marquez said it is a privilege and an honor to bring people together through his love for dance.

“I've seen people become friends since January, and I see them practice outside of practice,” Marquez said. “I've always had a dream to do my own dance classes, but to do it in a way where people can connect and just be themselves. It's far greater than that.”

Queer Latin Dance OC offers lessons to dancers of all experience levels and has created a new community hub in Orange County.

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Destiny Torres

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LAist

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Want to dance? 

Salsa, cumbia and bachata classes are held three nights a week on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Classes are $20 per session, but Marquez also offers a free beginner salsa class every Monday.

You can register for the class of your choice here. Payments are taken in person.

Border Patrol agents have been roving from city to city over the last 15 months, far from their home bases in California and elsewhere along the U.S.-Mexico border, engaged in an unprecedented mass deportation campaign.

A collaboration between CalMatters, Evident Media and Bellingcat has tracked these agents, documenting their tactics on the ground and through mountains of video footage, since their first proof-of-concept raid in Bakersfield in January 2025.

Exactly one year later, an Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent shot and killed Renée Good in Minneapolis, followed weeks later by the killing of Alex Pretti by a Border Patrol agent.

Our investigation shows that beyond those two shootings, immigration agents engaged in a pattern of force and questionable detention, aggressive tactics that courts have said likely violated the Constitution, as they moved from Bakersfield to Los Angeles, and then Chicago and Minneapolis.

In each city, federal courts stepped in to restrain them from violating civil liberties in that jurisdiction. Agents later deployed to another city. The video evidence suggests agents’ tactics became more brazen with each stop.

Under President Donald Trump, immigration agents have operated without typical public accountability. Many agents wear masks. Incident reports are largely hidden from the public.

“We are in a completely uncharted world now with these masked agents,” said John Roth, who served as inspector general of the Department of Homeland Security under Presidents Barack Obama and Trump.

“The first thing that you do when you give an agent a gun and a badge and the authority over American people is to make sure that they follow the Constitution, period,” he said.

In this new film, we focus on the activity of five agents from the US-Mexico border whose identities we’ve been able to confirm.

Watch the documentary

We are not aware of any disciplinary action taken against these agents. DHS did not respond to requests for comment; the individual agents either declined to comment or didn’t respond to calls or emails.

We showed the incidents to Roth and Steve Bunnell, former DHS general counsel. Both have testified before Congress, raising the alarm about what they see as a dismantling of the department’s accountability and credibility. Roth called the incidents “difficult to watch.”

“There are sort of two essential components of DHS and law enforcement generally being effective, and that’s trust and credibility,” Bunnell said. “And they have lost those things to the extent they had them.”