Racing will resume at Churchill Downs in September, with no changes being made after a review of surfaces and safety protocols in the wake of 12 horse deaths

Despite Ludwig Ahgren's denial of a move to Kick, online rumors about his potential joining continue to circulate, fueling curiosity and speculation among fans

Tony Peralta told New Mexico authorities his secret had been eating at him for more than a decade.

An Apex Legends player posted a video on Twitter showing them earning three packs of heirloom shards.

An anonymous hacker is claiming to be selling “millions” of genetic profiles cobbled together from hijacked 23andMe customer

F1 sprint is set for its biggest ever season this year with six sprint races on the calendar for 2023 - doubling the amount from 2022 and 2021. The 100km Saturday dash, first introduced at the British Grand Prix in 2021, has proven popular with teams and fans alike and will be present at more than a quarter of Grand Prix weekends during the 23-race season. Why F1’s sprint shake-up could be the beginning of the end for Max Verstappen There was an unanimous agreement to increase the number of sprint events amongst F1 teams at a meeting of the F1 commission meeting last year, following discussions with the FIA and a vote amongst the World Motor Sport Council (WMSC). As it was last year, the F1 sprint is a 100km race with no mandatory pit stops and drivers racing flat-out to the chequered flag. As it was in the 2022 season, the top eight drivers score points, with the driver who finishes P1 receiving eight points. How does the sprint race work? The F1 Commission and the FIA have approved new sprint weekend format changes which will see an extra qualifying session added to the schedule. The new order of play sees a new ‘sprint shootout’ take place on Saturday morning instead of a second practice session, with traditional qualifying on Friday now setting the grid for Sunday’s grand prix. It means there will be just one practice session over the course of the weekend, while Saturday is designated ‘sprint day’. The result of the Saturday sprint – a 100km dash, roughly a third of the distance of the grand prix – will not impact the grid for Sunday, as opposed to the past two years. Points will be awarded to the top-eight, as was the case in 2022. But now, that Friday qualifying session will take on added weight as it will set the grid for Sunday’s grand prix, regardless of what happens in Saturday’s sprint race. On Saturday, instead of what was seen as a generally pointless second practice session on Saturday, a new ‘sprint shootout’ will take place to form the starting grid for the sprint race later in the day. It will follow the same Q1-Q2-Q3 format but the session times will be shorter than traditional qualifying: Q1 will be 12 minutes, Q2 will be 10 minutes and Q3 will be eight minutes. NEW SPRINT WEEKEND FORMAT Friday: Free Practice 1; qualifying (for Sunday’s Grand Prix) Saturday: Sprint qualifying; sprint race (Top-eight receive points, finish order will have no impact on Grand Prix grid) Sunday: Grand Prix How many points are on offer? P1 - Eight points P2 - Seven points P3 - Six points P4 - Five points P5 - four points P6 - three points P7 - two points P8 - one point Where will the sprint races take place this season? There will be six sprint races this season, including at three of the final six Grand Prix weekends. ROUND 4 - AZERBAIJAN Baku City Circuit - 28-30 April Sprint shootout pole: Charles Leclerc Sprint race winner: Sergio Perez ROUND 10 - AUSTRIA Red Bull Ring, Spielberg - 30 June-2 July ROUND 13 - BELGIUM Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps - 28-30 July ROUND 18 - QATAR Lusail International Circuit, Lusail - 6-8 October ROUND 19 - UNITED STATES Circuit of the Americas, Austin - 20-22 October ROUND 21 - BRAZIL Interlagos Circuit, Sao Paulo - 3-5 November Read More F1 race schedule: What time is the Austrian Grand Prix on Sunday? Why have Wrexham owners Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney invested in Alpine F1 team? F1’s sprint shake-up could be the beginning of the end for Max Verstappen ‘Happy’ Lewis Hamilton still hungry for record eighth world title – Damon Hill F1 2023 calendar: All 23 Grand Prix this year Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney to invest in F1 team

By Lucy Craymer WELLINGTON New Zealand banks on Friday said they would introduce new steps to counter scams

It’s just after 9pm and lilac hues have spread across Dorset skies, shadows extending over a panorama of marquee tops. Perfect conditions for the first night of End of the Road, whose Friday headliners – Black Midi, Battles and Fleet Foxes among them – are minutes away from stepping on stage. Yet, rather than slipping through the masses to grab a good spot, I’ve been back at my tent for an hour already. Having unfolded a stool in the last of the sun, simmering lentils and a mug full of boxed cab-sav for company, my one-year-old daughter, Nancy, has finally nodded off in the tent, unaware of earlier negotiations between her parents. After an afternoon watching bands from a lower-decibel distance as a family, it’s my wife who’s out tonight, enjoying her child-free break for freedom. Although, with the Pixies – a band beloved since teen years but never seen live – top billing on Saturday night, I felt confident in my call as “White Winter Hymnal” carried on the breeze. We’re a day into our first festival as a family of three, an experience already proving quite a journey. As a sometimes music journalist, I’d covered events across Europe over the past decade, adept at negotiating stage splits, balancing reporting duties and life-affirming experiences with willing accomplices. Of these, End of the Road has remained a regular fixture, an informal end-of-summer meet-up with industry colleagues and friends – as well as my chosen stag-do destination. With a one-year-old in tow, this year would mark a stark contrast. From the freshly purchased family-sized tent – the subject of substantial research and investment, and an attempt to win over a camping-averse wife – to the travel cot, buggy, strings of fairy lighting, endless layers, toys and first-aid trappings for every eventuality, the baggage was endless. Shoulders ablaze, I’d carried it all in as my wife kept our daughter entertained. Stepping into my role as responsible dad, I’d practised the tent’s set-up at home prior to arrival and, with a tangible sense of optimism about the weekend ahead, started separating pegs from poles. Yet, with the tent almost up, something unsettled me. What was that smell? Unzipping the bedroom it hit me. My earlier garden practice run had provided the perfect sheltered toilet for a visiting fox –  evidence of which no amount of wet-wipe scrubbing could remove, resulting in a showdown with the reluctant camper and a smell that would accent a weekend in which expectations were continuously lowered. After my wife crashed back in on Friday night, earlier than anticipated and hamstrung by a fast-developing cold, we wondered if we were up to the challenge. Nancy was having a nice time, happy tracking insects in the long grass or studiously inspecting the contents of her snack bag. But could this equally have been any other field? Had we been too exhausted and distracted to embrace the experience? By contrast, our camping companions had brought their five-year-old, who enthusiastically shared stories about favourite bands and the wicker dragonfly he’d crafted, as his dad talked about the surprise sets he’d happened upon the previous night. Perhaps we’d just taken all of this on too soon. The next morning, I nudged Nancy’s buggy around the site, stopping at the kids’ area, where a neckerchiefed uke player offered up nursery rhymes with instruments for children, which were seized upon with pleasure. Various childless friends were never far away, entertaining our daughter in bursts. Later, after reuniting with my wife, a highlight was bobbing to Los Bitchos’ buoyant afternoon performance with Nancy held aloft, as was a brief glimpse of Jockstrap packing out a small stage in the woods. Yet other moments – flailing nappy changes amid aghast onlookers, straying too close to the stage with a buggy as the light faded and the crowd surged – presented a sharp learning curve. Still feeling under the weather, my wife headed back to the tent with Nancy as the Pixies arrived, Frank Black’s substantial presence now underscored by a pang of guilt. After checking in and being signed off to stay out, I’d joined an excitable crowd for an unannounced late-night set at the Tipi stage, which, after turning out to be one of the tiny handful of bands I’d already seen that day – again sounded another minor chord on my tiny violin. As the skies cleared, we’d discovered corners along the way we’d otherwise never have seen and met a similarly dazed yet determined community of parents With my wife’s health deteriorating further overnight – diminishing her perception of fox piss, at least – we made the call to leave on Sunday morning and I hauled everything back to the car. On the long drive home, and hours before Covid would be confirmed, it had to be asked: had this been fun for anyone concerned? Was this festival too aptly named for a new dad trying to reconcile past and present lives? This all happened in the summer of 2022 and, unfazed, we tried again this year – albeit at the even smaller scale and decidedly family-friendly Kite Festival in Oxfordshire. While Nancy’s advanced age presented new challenges – tentative first steps now a confident swagger – her inquisitiveness also marked her out as the perfect festival companion. Expectations now firmly in check, we let ourselves be led by circumstance and proximity, stopping for whatever drew the eye rather than dashing from act to act, allowing us to slow down and see the world through her eyes. Occasionally we tag-teamed the lineup, each picking a couple of acts to witness unhindered by short attention spans (my wife took former PM John Major’s packed-out talk in the big top, I took Suede). Under the hot sun, our meeting point at the shaded children’s area also helped keep Nancy from turning pink in the sun. Clapping furiously at the end of shadow chancellor Rachel Reeves’s morning debate, her grasp on Labour’s manifesto pledges seems better than most – although this mimicry of crowd behaviour proves an endearing feature at later events, too. An uncontrollable tantrum during Michael Gove’s appearance at a panel discussion saw us quickly extract ourselves from the tent, drawing smiles from an audience impressed by the effectiveness of her heckle. Further priceless memories included dancing together at Candi Staton’s sundown set, Nancy with a brioche in each hand – ear defenders askew – visibly finding her feet. The following day the skies suddenly broke, with an electrical storm closing all stages, sending Birkenstock-clad families sprinting for cover. The one attendee thrilled by it all was Nancy, who careered around cackling as security attempted to keep punters from the marquee’s lightning-conducting metal poles. As the skies cleared, we’d discovered corners along the way we’d otherwise never have seen and met a similarly dazed yet determined community of parents. We still hadn’t nailed the performative kids-at-festivals thing – there was no trolley adorned with decoration or whimsical outfits – but felt comfortable that we’d struck the right balance, fulfilled by a shared experience led by the spontaneity of a child’s impulses. It marked a shift from any naive attempt to carry on with our lives as normal. An alternative, of course, is to leave your family at home. A couple of weeks ago I joined 250,000 others at Glastonbury, my own spontaneity given breathing space once more. Thrilling, yes, but also a weekend that at times left me seeking my small festival companion among the other attendees. I was temporarily overcome watching a daughter on the shoulders of her father as he introduced her to a favourite band, excitedly explaining each musician’s role. “How old? I’ve got one a similar age,” was shared with various others. Yet it was also at Glastonbury, as the temperature nudged into the thirties, that I spotted another dad – fixed grin but dead behind the eyes – pushing three irritable kids in a trolley up a shadeless slope. I nod my solidarity, before skipping off to the bar – relieved, this time, that’s not me. Bumping into Joe Goddard from Hot Chip, whose bandmates collectively call their kids the Micro Chips, he says that of all the children he knows, it’s those who have always been dragged to festivals who have proved the most rounded. Something that resonates with me as the Glastonbury hangover subsides and – reunited with my family – I start looking forward to carving out new shared experiences in crowded fields once more. Read More The earthy magic and lawless energy of being a child at Glastonbury festival Too cool to love these acts 10 years ago? This year’s Glastonbury is for you Music festivals have saved me so many times Demi Lovato says she still struggles with vision, hearing impairment after overdose Marina Diamandis says she has been diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome Should I keep my windows closed or open during a heatwave?

Turkey wants Sweden to begin extraditing or expelling suspected Kurdish separatists before next month’s summit of the North

NEWPORT BEACH, Calif.--(BUSINESS WIRE)--Jun 19, 2023--

It appears the rocket carrying the satellite flew further than during the previous attempt.

Ricardo Pepi, Antonee Robinson and Gio Reyna scored late goals in a span of 7 minutes, 23 seconds, leading the United States over Trinidad and Tobago 3-0 in the opener of a two-leg series for a berth in next year’s Copa America