LOS ANGELES — The Dodgers are placing Shohei Ohtani on the injured list, manager Dave Roberts said Wednesday, after weeks of left-knee, right-biceps and neck pain that the club tried to manage without an official stay.

“We tried to kick the can as much as we could,” Roberts said after a 14-1 win over Cincinnati. “It’s the right thing to do.” As a two-way player, Ohtani must go on the 15-day list rather than the 10-day list for position players. Backdated to Tuesday, the earliest he can return is Sept. 23 — six days before the wild-card round and 10 days before a National League Division Series that would start Oct. 3.

He has not pitched since July 3. He sat six of the past seven games. He returned Monday, went 0-for-3 with two strikeouts and a walk, then sat again. Roberts said a swing Monday “he didn’t feel great on” and that Ohtani “hasn’t totally recovered from Monday.” The club learned of that extra discomfort Tuesday night, after it had planned to use him Wednesday and after it had already kept him available as a pinch-hitter.

“If it were a postseason game tomorrow, he would be in the lineup,” Roberts said. “Now you’re talking about two weeks, 14 days. I feel that that’s substantial. He’ll be in a much better place than he was today. Is it going to be 100 percent? Probably not. But I do think that with this time that we’re taking now, he’ll be in an adequate spot to finish the season.” Asked about confidence in that plan, he said, “Very.”

Hindsight came cheaper. “If we look right now, here today, I would love to go back and put him on the IL,” Roberts said of last week’s four-day rest. “But at that moment in time, we all felt that giving him four days was sufficient. He was agreeable. Getting him out there on Monday with the hope that he would be able to play [again Wednesday]. But where we’re at right now, sure.” He also said the staff had already talked to Ohtani about speaking up sooner. “We did,” Roberts said. “That’s right. We did.”

Ohtani, through interpreter Will Ireton, did not close the subject. “It’s hard to say now with the season still going on,” he said when asked about communication. On pitching, he had already drawn a line after Monday’s game: “Most likely, no. I’m going to be focusing on hitting moving forward.” He called that “disappointing” but said the priority was “making sure that the pitching wouldn’t cause the worst scenario, which was for me to not be able to play at all.”

Josue De Paula, a 10th-ranked ESPN prospect who hit .303 with 27 homers and 31 steals in 124 Double-A games, is expected to take the designated-hitter at-bats when the club opens a trip in Miami. Roberts said De Paula would “likely replace Ohtani as the everyday DH.”

The medical list is a pile, not a single date. Knee trouble drew a lubricant injection at the All-Star break. Biceps soreness flared the day of his last start. Neck pain followed. Since Aug. 8, when he was cleared to throw again, he hit .198 with four home runs in 24 games. General manager Brandon Gomes said earlier this week the slump was not tied to health. Roberts, after Wednesday, treated the body as the story. “The most important thing is him being as healthy as possible, not compromising his swing, and kind of bet on that,” he said. “He’s not supernatural, as much as we think he might be at times.”

The calendar is now the opponent. Five regular-season games at most if he comes back on day 15. A postseason that the Dodgers still expect him to start as a hitter, not a pitcher. A four-time MVP who had never been on the injured list in Los Angeles, held out until a Monday swing forced the paperwork the club spent a month trying not to file.

I think I speak for a lot of women when I say that when you’re eight months pregnant, all you want to do is sleep.

And when you work the hours that I was working on the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, you dream about sleep.

At the time, I was an anchor at CNBC working a split shift. I would get up at 3 a.m. ET, anchor the 5 a.m. to 7 a.m. premarket show, go home at 7:30 a.m., try to sleep for a few hours, then return to the studio in Ft. Lee, New Jersey, to anchor the 4 p.m. market wrap-up broadcast. Insane hours, I know. 

But about a year earlier, when I was only helming the early morning gig, I jumped at the offer to reach a broader audience in the afternoon. The catch was that I could only have the 4 p.m. if I continued to work the pre-dawn show as well.

AMERICA MARKS 25TH ANNIVERSARY OF 9/11 ATTACKS

A New York Police Department (NYPD) officer pays his respects next to the reflecting pools at the 9/11 Memorial, on the day of a ceremony marking the 25th anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center, in New York City, on Sept. (Jeenah Moon/Reuters)

Just getting used to the crazy sleep schedule was hard enough, but when I got pregnant with my first child, it quickly became way more difficult. But I gamely plowed ahead. On Sept. 11, 2001, I was a month and a few weeks from giving birth.

After finishing the morning show on that sparkling September day, I headed home, lumbered into my apartment in Edgewater, New Jersey, right on the Hudson River, just a town away from the studio, closed the blackout curtains and was just drifting off when my then-husband, a senior producer at MSNBC, called me. “Turn on Channel 4,” he said. He sounded anxious.

I flipped on the TV and saw smoke pouring out of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. It looked like some idiot had flown a small plane right into the side of the building. “What the hell happened?” I asked. With a more urgent tone he said, “I don’t know, but I’ve gotta go,” and hung up.

25 YEARS LATER, 9/11 MEMORIES ENDURE AS NATION GATHERS TO HONOR NEARLY 3,000 LIVES LOST

I stared at the screen. The shot was from a live, unmanned camera affixed atop another downtown building. The towers bisected a crystal blue sky. Zero clouds. What happened?

Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick visits the memorial ahead of the 25th anniversary commemoration ceremony at the National 9/11 Memorial and Museum in New York, on Sept. 11, 2026. (Adam Gray/Bloomberg via Getty Images)

Being a business news journalist, I knew a lot of my show guests worked in that tower. I was mentally ticking off who worked on which floor when suddenly a second plane, clearly a large passenger jet, plowed into the South Tower. Instinctively, my right hand flew to my belly and my left hand covered my mouth. I grabbed the phone and woke up my father on the West Coast. “Dad, turn on the news. NOW.”

My father, a surgeon and fully aware his daughter was eight months pregnant, took one look at the TV and immediately adopted his reassuring “doctor” voice. “Liz, I’m sure there’s an explanation for this. Whatever it is, I need you to be really calm, OK?”

“I am calm, Dad. But I’ve got to get back to the studio.” The newswoman in me was kicking in. I hung up and jumped back into my clothes, into the car and sped back to the office.

When I walked in, people looked shocked. Glancing surreptitiously at my stomach, my manager said, “Liz, if you want to go home, we understand. We’ll get someone else to do the show.” I was perplexed. We’re in the news business. The thought of not doing my job at a time like this literally never occurred to me. I thanked him and said, “No, I’m here. Have we figured out which Wall Street firms are on which floors?”

But I already knew the answer. Cantor Fitzgerald occupied the top floors of the North Tower. Huge staff. Fund giant Fred Alger Management was right below them on the 93rd floor. My chest tightened. My dear friend David Alger was their CEO. I silently begged. Please, PLEASE, David, tell me you’re not there.

Sandler O’Neill Partners was on the 104th floor of the South Tower. Co-founder Herman Sandler was a Wall Street legend. He’d be fine, right? Marsh & McLennan. Keefe, Bruyette & Woods. Euro Brokers. I knew people in both towers.

LIZ PEEK: WE CANNOT LET THE LEFT REWRITE WHAT HAPPENED ON 9/11

Whatever hope we had that friends had survived disappeared when both towers collapsed, enveloping lower Manhattan in that awful, sickening gray ash.

But I kept thinking, “Surely David Alger had led his troops down the stairwell before the collapse. That’s David.”

I envisioned him gripping a bullhorn, marching north on Broadway. He was larger than life with the best smile ever. I’d seen him just two weeks earlier when he had been a guest on the network. 

I ran into him after that interview. “Liz!” he boomed, flashing that high-wattage smile. He looked down at my belly, put his hand gently on it, looked directly in my eyes and said, “You’re going to be the best mom.” David was the proud father of two daughters, so he knew from whence he spoke.

People stand at the memorial ahead of a ceremony commemorating the 25th anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center, at the National 9/11 Memorial & Museum on Sept. 11, 2026 in New York City. (David Dee Delgado/Reuters)

I would never see David again. He died on 9/11 along with 2,977 others in the towers, at the Pentagon and in Shanksville, Pennsylvania – all victims of the coordinated attack by the Al Qaeda terrorist group. I attended David’s funeral. His daughters were drenched in grief.

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A month and two weeks later, still mourning him, Herman Sandler, and so many others, including the 658 innocent souls who worked at Cantor Fitzgerald, I felt contractions. My obstetrician’s office told me to come in. My doctor’s practice was in the city. They quietly ushered me past a pregnant woman staring blankly in the corner of the waiting room. I later learned her husband had been killed in the World Trade Center attacks. Twenty-five years later, I can still remember thinking, “How can I be happy right now? What kind of world am I bringing this child into?” Any joy felt inappropriate.

That night I gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Of course, I felt happiness, but it was tinged by an unseen gray veil of sadness. Trust me, all of us who were there on 9/11 felt the same way. I took comfort in knowing that all the letters in David’s last name – A, L, G, E and R are woven within the name we chose for our newborn: Gabrielle.

The darkness in the rotted hearts of those who stole lives and futures on 9/11 will never be understood, nor does that kind of evil deserve the effort. What does deserve effort is carrying on, reaching for the stars and living a good life while holding tight the memories of the 2,977 who didn’t get to continue theirs.

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In theory, the inquiry should be impartial and informative – a learning process focused solely on improving passenger safety. But in the case of AI171, the information revealed by the investigation so far has triggered a major backlash from safety campaigners, pilots’ groups and lawyers acting for the bereaved relatives.

A key factor in this has been the preliminary report issued by the AAIB a month after the accident. The 15-page document did not draw any conclusions about the causes of the crash, or make any recommendations.

Nonetheless, just two short paragraphs generated a great deal of controversy.

First, it was noted that according to the aircraft’s flight data recorder, the two fuel cutoff switches – normally used when starting the engines before a flight and shutting them down afterwards – transitioned from the run to the cutoff position seconds after take-off. This would have deprived the engines of fuel, causing them to lose thrust rapidly.

The report then says: “In the cockpit voice recording, one of the pilots is heard asking the other why did he cutoff. The other pilot responded that he did not do so.”

This brief statement, provided without a transcript or any indication of who was speaking, sparked intense speculation about the actions of the pilots. Newsweek, for example, focused on the “troubling possibility: that a seasoned captain may have deliberately doomed his jet – and nearly 250 lives”. Former NTSB chairman Robert Sumwalt told CBS News the report showed “this was not a problem with the airplane or the engines. Instead…somebody in the cockpit shut the fuel off to those engines.”

A few days later, The Wall Street Journal weighed in. Citing people familiar with the matter, it claimed that recordings of dialogue between the pilots suggested it was the Captain, Sumeet Sabharwal, who had flipped the fuel switches.

It is important to note that this was merely a preliminary report, and within days, the AAIB issued a statement condemning “selective and unverified reporting” in the international press as “irresponsible”. It urged the public and the media to “refrain from spreading premature narratives that risk undermining the integrity of the investigative process.”

By then, arguably, the damage had already been done.

“When a pilot is alive he can defend himself” says Capt. CS Randhawa, president of the Federation of Indian Pilots (FIP). “When the pilot is dead, all the agencies can collude – and they put the blame on the pilot, to save the manufacturer. And this is seen the world over. It’s not the first time”.

His organisation, which represents around 6,000 pilots, condemned the preliminary report as “irrevocably compromised”. Together with Sumeet Sabharwal’s 91-year-old father, Pushkar Raj Sabharwal, they took their concerns to India’s Supreme Court, demanding a judicial investigation into the crash.

In central Manchester, 23‑year‑old Ashleigh agrees with Joel that the state pension is unlikely to be coming her way: “At this rate I don’t think anyone’s ever going to retire, I think everyone will just have to fend for themselves in the end.”

But as someone on a lower income, her pension choices are less squirrel‑like. When working for a big retailer, she says that she chose to stop contributing to her employer’s auto-enrolment pension.

“I opted out of it. I need the money now.” She explains: “I’d rather save for a house and then at least I have something to show for it”.

Some experts warn that the gap between rich and poor in retirement could widen significantly for this generation.

Dr Suzy Morrissey, deputy director at the Pensions Policy Institute (PPI), believes that alongside how much Gen Z save privately, another factor will widen the divide: far more of them will be renting.

“Renting in retirement increases your chances of pensioner poverty, and they do face challenges to save, as younger people, that previous generations didn’t face when they were at the same age,” she says. “If we have people paying rent in retirement who don’t have large pension pots to cover those expenses, then that equals higher risk of pensioner poverty.”

But Morrissey sees a silver lining: pensions auto-enrollment, the system that automatically puts most employees into a workplace pension unless they opt out. If they’ve been employees, “they will have spent their working life contributing into a pension pot, and they will be the first generation that will have spent their whole life doing that.”

It’ll be a backstop for many, but the minimum contribution rate is unlikely to be enough for a comfortable retirement. It’s not automatic for the self-employed and people like Ashleigh have opted out because of immediate financial pressures, so it looks like plenty won’t see the benefit of that silver lining.

Robert Gentil spent several decades working in New York’s stock and trading markets before retiring to Richmond, Virginia.

He is 72 now, and he still gets up early, still checks the markets out of habit, and still keeps a handwritten to-do list instead of trusting his phone to remember things for him. None of that is an accident. It is the same operating system he used on the trading floor, just running on a much quieter machine.

Most profiles of people like Robert lead with the career: the titles, the years, the deals. This one starts somewhere else, with the question that actually explains him: how does someone trained to make fast, high-stakes decisions spend a morning when nothing is at stake at all?

How a career in market analysis shapes daily habits

Robert built his career on market analysis, investment strategy, and risk management. Those are not hobbies you can switch off. He still reads the newspaper each morning with particular attention to business and science, and he still glances at the markets briefly before moving on with his day.

What has changed is the purpose behind it. During his working years, that information fed decisions with real consequences for clients and colleagues. Today, he says the habit survives mostly out of curiosity rather than necessity. He is not managing anyone’s money. He just likes knowing what is happening and why.

That distinction matters more than it sounds. A lot of people who spend decades in high-pressure jobs lose the routines the moment the job ends, because the routines were only ever a means to an end. Robert’s held because they were never just about the job. They were about how he preferred to think.

The tools he kept and the ones he let go

During his career, Robert relied on the standard instruments of financial analysis: a Bloomberg terminal, FactSet, spreadsheets built and rebuilt over years. He still checks Bloomberg and Reuters occasionally, but he is candid that his telescope software and astronomy apps have probably become more important to him now. The tools didn’t disappear. They just changed rank.

What patience in markets taught him about everything else

Ask Robert what decades in trading actually teaches a person, and he won’t point to a specific trade. He points to patience. Markets reward people who can sit still during periods of noise and resist the urge to react to every fluctuation. That is a skill, not a personality trait, and he thinks it transfers almost anywhere.

He applies the same instinct to his garden, which does not respond to urgency any better than a volatile market does. He applies it to reading, where he prefers biographies and history over anything that promises a quick takeaway. And he applies it to conversation. Robert is known among his Richmond neighbors as someone who listens before he offers an opinion, a habit he traces back to years of watching markets punish people who talked more than they thought.

Why he measures a good day differently now

For most of his career, a good day had a clear scoreboard. Retirement removed the scoreboard, and Robert has had to build a different one. His version involves smaller, more deliberate measures: whether he learned something new, whether he helped a neighbor, whether he got outside.

He keeps a notebook, a habit he never dropped from his working years, though what goes in it has changed. It once tracked market observations. Now it tracks astronomical ones, along with the occasional idea from a book or a conversation worth remembering. The format stayed. The content moved on.

This is, in a way, the clearest evidence of who Robert Gentil actually is underneath the résumé. The career gave him structure, and he liked the structure enough to keep most of it after the career ended. Few people manage that. Most treat retirement as the opposite of work, a permission slip to stop being disciplined about anything. Robert treated it as a chance to redirect the discipline somewhere that mattered to him personally rather than professionally.

A different kind of expertise

Robert doesn’t present himself as someone with lessons to hand out. But talk to him for even a few minutes and it’s clear he thinks about decision-making the way some people think about weather patterns: as something with visible cause and effect, worth watching closely even when you’re not the one steering. That habit of mind, sharpened over decades in New York’s financial markets, is arguably what Richmond neighbors are really getting when Robert offers to fix a fence, water a plant, or explain what’s visible through his telescope on a clear night. It’s the same mind. It just has a different job now.