The New Yorker:

The rebrand of the Los Angeles Laker—who appeared on the cover of Men’s Health looking lean, buff, and bronze—makes sense. That doesn’t make it less sad.

By Louisa Thomas

Luka Dončić has three dogs: Hugo, Gia, and Viki. The trio have their own Instagram account, on which they’re shown lounging on an Alpine meadow in the mountains above the cloud line, or wearing adorable little Dončić jerseys, or sitting aboard what looks like a private jet. They vary in size—Hugo is a petite tawny Pomeranian, Gia a shaggy white Swiss shepherd, and Viki a large silvery mixed breed—but, like their owner, they are uniformly fluffy and bright-eyed. Not long after the Jordan Brand, a Nike line, launched the Luka 1, Dončić’s first signature shoe, a “Dog Dad” colorway dropped: white with bulbous pale-pink accents and the pawprints of Hugo, Gia, and Viki inked on the insoles. It struck me as a kind of clapback to those who considered Dončić lazy and soft—the shoes of a man who enjoyed a nice snuggle with his Pomeranian before dropping a triple-double upon his critics’ heads.

I thought of the dogs last week, when I saw Dončić on the coverof Men’s Health, looking lean, buff, and bronze, holding a dumbbell at a jaunty angle. The pictures accompanying the article, which detailed Dončić’s fitness regimen, were a sharp break from the usual images of Dončić smirking, complaining to the refs, or cuddling a poofy animal. This was about a different Luka, a new Luka—one who eats a hideous amount of protein, who fasts before workouts, and who doesn’t rest between weight-lifting sets. There was not a single puppy in sight.

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