Stop me if you’ve heard this one: A mostly unheralded fight on a completely skippable UFC Fight Night card ends in controversy after many observers question whether the loser really did all he could to try to win.

Later we learn that betting odds for the bout made a strange and sudden shift just prior to fight time. Eyebrows begin to raise. Suspicions boil and bubble. Certain conclusions get drawn.

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And the UFC, under whose banner all this suspicious activity took place? It quietly releases the fighter in question and rolls on to the next one.

This has all happened before. It happened back in 2022, when Darrick Minner lost via first-round TKO in a bout from the UFC APEX that saw an unusual amount of late gambling money come in on his opponent, Shayilan Nuerdanbieke, to win in the first round. As we would later learn, Minner fought with a knee injury, a fact known to coaches and training partners and friends, several of whom were accused of profiting off the insider knowledge with bets placed at online sportsbooks.

Now it’s 2025 and — whoops — seems like it might have happened again. Isaac Dulgarian has been released by the UFC following his own suspiciously low-effort performance at Saturday’s UFC Vegas 110 event (also at the UFC APEX). Dulgarian came in as the heavy betting favorite, but his odds fell sharply just before the fight, indicating that a rush of money had come in on his opponent to win. After Dulgarian tapped out to a choke he made minimal efforts to defend against, some online sportsbooks said they would refund users' losing bets on Dulgarian. Almost as if they, too, had begun to suspect that a fix was in, and preferred to get out ahead of it just so they could not be accused of profiting from it.

In the aftermath of the Minner scandal, UFC CEO Dana White first insisted that nothing untoward had taken place.

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“I don’t think anything happened,” White said initially, adding that there was “absolutely zero proof that anybody that was involved (in the fight) bet on it.”

A month later, he had apparently been convinced otherwise. The people involved in this, White said, would go to “federal f***ing prison.” They didn’t, though. The Nevada Athletic Commission handed out suspensions to Minner and his coach James Krause, who was subsequently painted as the ringleader of a vast MMA gambling ring, as well as to Minner’s teammate Jeff Molina. People didn’t exactly get off easy, but they stayed well clear of federal (freaking) prison. UFC banned fighters from working with Krause. He became persona non grata, at least outwardly. Beyond that, the story seemed to just … evaporate.

Back when the Minner incident first happened I spoke to Matthew Holt, then the president of US Integrity, which monitors sports betting activity across a number of platforms. (US Integrity has since been renamed IC360.) Holt told me that his firm had known for some time that insider betting in the UFC was a problem, with fighters and coaches betting on UFC bouts at a rate far higher than what the firm saw from other pro sports leagues. Holt said his company had told the UFC as much on several occasions.

“I think it's (an issue of) league structure, and the UFC is at a disadvantage, to be fair,” Holt told me in 2022. Whereas leagues like the NFL knew exactly who was and wasn’t a team employee, and had them all under the roofs of team facilities confined to the United States, the UFC has fighters all over the world making use of a loose confederation of coaches and training partners.

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Still, it’s not as if there’s nothing that could be done. Holt said at the time that his company had noted the strange betting activity ahead of the Minner fight and sent out alerts to various sportsbooks, online and otherwise.

“In this case, what was also really interesting is when we sent out the alert, we got responses from double-digit sportsbooks across the U.S. saying they were seeing very similar activity,” Holt told me. “Abnormally large amounts of money wagered on the under two and a half rounds (prop bet), and abnormally large amounts of money wagered on this fighter to win by first-round knockout.”

This is one of the advantages to having a sports-betting market that exists mostly on the internet and in our phones, all while we are living in the age of the algorithm. It’s much easier to spot suspicious betting and to get the word out in advance. It’s also easier to see who is placing the bets, which means it’s a lot easier for those involved to get caught. It should even be easier for the UFC to get word in advance and pull matches with suspicious betting activity around them

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But then what? That’s the next step that has been missing lately. UFC, like virtually every other pro sports organization, has embraced online sports betting with both arms. You can’t make it through a UFC event with being bombarded by betting odds updates and commercials for sportsbook apps. Gambling has always, always been a part of fight sports, but now it’s out in the open and the promoters get to feast on their own financial piece.

This would seem to argue for a more aggressive approach from the UFC. It needs fans to believe that fights are on the level — for several reasons. Simply dodging the bad publicity and laying low until the story dies a natural death only guarantees that it will eventually happen again.

And the thing is, it will happen again. UFC is uniquely vulnerable to this. Athletes are independent contractors who the UFC has very little contact with or oversight of outside of fight week. Many of these fighters are also among the lowest-paid people in professional sports, and they’re surrounded by people who help them in highly unofficial capacities. If you were a nefarious gambler looking for a way in, you’d have your pick of paths to the waterfall.

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The one thing we know for sure is that these issues won’t magically go away on their own. Gambling has its hooks in American sports. No one is about to turn down the money that flows from these apps. Maybe the best we can do is make it legit and fair. But even that is a fight the UFC has to willingly join, and with all the vehemence that it approaches other issues that are in its financial best interests. To not become part of the solution is to declare yourself a part of the problem.

TORONTO — It came to this.

Finally, fatefully, after 49 years. After a nationally dismissed upstart in the Pacific Northwest went its first 14 seasons without a winning team. After Ken Griffey Jr. became iconic with a backwards cap and baseball’s sweetest swing. After Edgar Martinez drilled a double down the left field line, and Dave Niehaus’ call — “It just continues! My oh my!” — echoed for decades. After the Kingdome imploded on a sunny Sunday. After 116 wins, the greatest regular season this sport has ever seen. After a 21-year playoff drought inflicted devastating déjà vu. After Ichiro and Felix dragged an afflicted, oft-forgotten franchise through an endless abyss.   

After a 15-inning gauntlet and a go-ahead grand slam.

It came to this, to Toronto, to a deciding seventh game.

To the edge of immortality, and the plummet back to Earth.

That plummet occurred in the seventh inning Monday, when Bryan Woo surrendered a leadoff walk to Addison Barger and a single to Isiah Kiner-Falefa. Rather than trusting closer Andrés Muñoz to protect a 3-1 lead, Mariners manager Dan Wilson turned to Eduard Bazardo.

Which is when disaster, and George Springer, struck.

Springer — a 36-year-old former Astro and Mariners foil — belted Bazardo’s 1-0 fastball into the left field seats, repeatedly pumping his fist while racing around the bases. That swing, that pitch, that decision, was the devastating difference in the Blue Jays’ 4-3 win. It was the kind of sequence that sinks a season.

In the aftermath, Wilson said: “Bazardo has been the guy that’s gotten us through those situations, those tight ones, especially in the pivot role, and that’s where we were going at that point.”

Fans can, and will, dwell on the details. Like Wilson’s decision, a mistake that will fester in franchise infamy. Like the seven runners stranded, bricks slowly sealing Seattle’s tomb. Like the leads — 2-0 in the series, 3-2 heading to Toronto, 3-1 in the seventh inning with a pennant on the line — that were successively, devastatingly lost.

Like the fact that this franchise should finally be making its World Series debut against the Dodgers Friday.

“I love every guy in this room. But ultimately, it’s not what we wanted,” said Mariners catcher Cal Raleigh, his historic season sadly complete, eyes red and watering. “I hate to use the word failure, but it’s a failure. That’s what we expected, to get to a World Series and win a World Series. That’s what the bar is and the standard is and that’s what we want to hold ourselves accountable to.”

If that’s the standard, there have been 49 failures, none more excruciating than this — featuring a fumble feet from the goal line.

Because this season mattered. It mattered for fans who watched Hall of Famers and managers and too many falls come and go without a playoff win. For fathers and sons and mothers and daughters who bonded through baseball. For countless kids who recreated Raleigh’s swing in their backyard, who showed up to tee ball wearing No. 29. For the legion of soon-to-be lifelong Mariners fans who fell in love. For the honorary witches and dumpers and anyone in between. For all those who found community, who danced and hugged and dared to hope, at the corner of Edgar and Dave.

That hope led here. It came to this.

To an end you have to hope is the beginning.

“This is not the end,” said third baseman Eugenio Suárez, who went 1 for 4 in what could be the final game of his second Seattle stint. “I feel like the future for this organization is huge.”

Added center fielder Julio Rodríguez, who slashed a double and a solo homer but also struck out to end the game: “You can’t expect anything less for the team. After getting here, after knowing what we’re capable of, I feel like there’s no less than this for us.”

Right now, that’s empty, unsatisfying solace.

When it ended, cans of beer flew through the air, while the Blue Jays moshed amid the madness. Horns sounded and streams of smoke exploded from the center field fence. Raleigh sat and stared, devastation dawning on the possible MVP. Later, Suárez put both hands on Bazardo’s shoulders and whispered encouragement in a quiet clubhouse. Impending free agent Josh Naylor walked around the room, thanking every teammate. There were hugs and suitcases strewn on the floor, while loved ones waited in the tunnel outside.

Why does it hurt? Because seasons like this don’t happen here. That’s not hyperbole.

Until the Mariners drafted and developed one of baseball’s best starting rotations. Until Raleigh hit 65 home runs, the most in a regular and postseason in AL history. Until Woo lasted at least six innings in 25 consecutive starts. Until Seattle dealt for Naylor and Suárez at the trade deadline. Until Victor Robles soared to snag a liner and unseat the Astros. Until a million separate pieces all slid into place.

Even then, it’s not enough. Will it ever be?

It came to this, the same consuming question and a new plummet. A further fall than ever before. Another celebration at Seattle’s expense.

It had to be Springer. It had to happen in the most eternally tortuous way. It had to be the kind of devastating cruelty that leaves Raleigh — who had already homered — standing on deck.

Baseball, like life, isn’t fair.

But you already know that. You’re a Mariners fan.

A constellation of classified defense satellites built by the commercial company SpaceX is emitting a mysterious signal that may violate international standards, NPR has learned.

Satellites associated with the Starshield satellite network appear to be transmitting to the Earth's surface on frequencies normally used for doing the exact opposite: sending commands from Earth to satellites in space. The use of those frequencies to "downlink" data runs counter to standards set by the International Telecommunication Union, a United Nations agency that seeks to coordinate the use of radio spectrum globally.

Starshield's unusual transmissions have the potential to interfere with other scientific and commercial satellites, warns Scott Tilley, an amateur satellite tracker in Canada who first spotted the signals.

"Nearby satellites could receive radio-frequency interference and could perhaps not respond properly to commands — or ignore commands — from Earth," he told NPR.

Outside experts agree there's the potential for radio interference. "I think it is definitely happening," said Kevin Gifford, a computer science professor at the University of Colorado, Boulder who specializes in radio interference from spacecraft. But he said the issue of whether the interference is truly disruptive remains unresolved.

SpaceX and the U.S. National Reconnaissance Office, which operates the satellites for the government, did not respond to NPR's request for comment.

Caught by the wrong antenna

The discovery of the signal happened purely by chance.

Tilley regularly monitors satellites from his home in British Columbia as a hobby. He was working on another project when he accidentally triggered a scan of radio frequencies that are normally quiet.

"It was just a clumsy move at the keyboard," he said. "I was resetting some stuff and then all of a sudden I'm looking at the wrong antenna, the wrong band."

The band of the radio spectrum he found himself looking at, between 2025-2110 MHz, is reserved for "uplinking" data to orbiting satellites. That means there shouldn't be any signals coming from space in that range.

But Tilley's experienced eye noticed there appeared to be a signal coming down from the sky. It was in a part of the band "that should have nothing there," he said. "I got a hold of my mouse and hit the record button and let it record for a few minutes."

Tilley then took the data and compared it to a catalog of observations made by other amateur satellite trackers. These amateurs, located around the world, use telescopes to track satellites as they move across the sky and then share their positions in a database.

"Bang, up came an unusual identification that I wasn't expecting at all," he said. "Starshield."

Starshield is a classified version of SpaceX's Starlink satellites, which provide internet service around the world. The U.S. has reportedly paid more than $1.8 billion so far for the network, though little is known about it. According to SpaceX, Starshield conducts both Earth observation and communications missions.

Since May of 2024, the National Reconnaissance Office has conducted 11 launches of Starshield satellites in what it describes as its "proliferated system."

"The NRO's proliferated system will increase timeliness of access, diversify communications pathways, and enhance resilience," the agency says of the system. "With hundreds of small satellites on orbit, data will be delivered in minutes or even seconds."

Tilley says he's detected signals from 170 of the Starshield satellites so far. All appear in the 2025-2110 MHz range, though the precise frequencies of the signals move around.

Signal's purpose in question

It's unclear what the satellite constellation is up to. Starlink, SpaceX's public satellite internet network, operates at much higher frequencies to enable the transmission of broadband data. Starshield, by contrast, is using a much lower frequency range that probably only allows for the transmission of data at rates closer to 3G cellular, Tilley says.

Tilley says he believes the decision to downlink in a band typically reserved for uplinking data could also be designed to hide Starshield's operations. The frequent shift in specific frequencies used could prevent outsiders from finding the signal.

Gifford says another possibility is that SpaceX was just taking advantage of a quiet part of the radio spectrum. Uplink transmissions from Earth to satellites are usually rare and brief, so these frequencies probably remain dark most of the time.

"SpaceX is smart and savvy," he says. It's possible they decided to just "do it and ask forgiveness later."

He notes it's unlikely the signals from Starshield have caused significant disruptions so far, otherwise other satellite operators would have complained.

Tilley told NPR he has decided to go public with his discovery because the world's satellite operators should be aware of what's happening.

"These are objects in classified orbits, which could potentially disturb other legitimate uses of space," he said.