JJ Redick has done what few in Los Angeles politics could: bring Karen Bass and Rick Caruso to the same table. It started with wildfires, a burned-down park, and a $50 million commitment to rebuild. But as Redick works to repair one part of LA, questions are growing about another. Can the same principles — urgency, alignment, and trust — salvage a Lakers team still figuring out how to play as one?

Redick, whose family lost their rented home in the fires, didn’t just pledge money. He pledged presence. Through his new LA Strong Sports foundation, he committed $10 million to rebuilding the Palisades Recreation Center — a hub he called “a place for [his] kids to grow, to create friendships.” For Redick, the loss was personal. The response was immediate. Steadfast LA, too, committed to privately donating $30 million to aid in the rebuilding process.

“It was a place that my family and I spent nearly every day…Our kids playing flag football, basketball, baseball, meeting friends after school,” Redick told local press. “What I’ve learned the most is that everyone has sort of recognized the need for expediency.”

Within weeks, Steadfast LA (Caruso’s nonprofit) and city departments under Bass’s leadership joined Redick’s mission. The result: an ambitious public-private model that aims to fast-track rebuilding not just in Palisades, but eventually across LA. The model is expected to power through with approximately $50 million in donations.

 

Caruso even joked about Redick’s ability to play peacemaker. “He’s headed to Russia next!” he laughed. Redick, reflecting on the unlikely collaboration, said the unity gives him “a sense of hope and healing.”

The unity is remarkable. So is the timing. But as Redick helps resurrect a park, he’s also confronting perhaps the most fractured Lakers locker room in years.. And some of the same principles — teamwork, urgency, culture — may be what he needs to carry from one crisis to another.

From community builder to locker room leader: Can Redick translate unity to the Lakers?

Despite the emotional weight of the wildfire recovery, Redick hasn’t lost sight of his day job — and results are already on the board. In his first season as Lakers head coach, JJ Redick led the team to a 49–31 record, clinched the Pacific Division title, and secured a top-three seed in the Western Conference. It’s the Lakers’ first direct playoff qualification since the 2020 bubble championship — a turnaround few saw coming when he took over.

But the numbers don’t tell the whole story.

Even with a playoff resurgence, the Lakers still seem out of sync. The LeBron James–Luka Dončić duo? Yeah, they’ve had their highlight reel moments. But it doesn’t always vibe. LeBron’s all about control and slowing the game down, while Dončić’s doing his own thing, cooking defenders and calling the shots. Sometimes it clicks, other times it’s like two group chats talking over each other.

Insiders describe the locker room as “

conflicted.” Some veterans question schemes; younger players feel adrift in undefined roles. Player buy-in has been “uneven,” with one team source citing a “lack of identity.” JJ Redick, once admired for his sharp basketball IQ and media-ready analysis, now finds himself figuring out the realities of egos, expectations, and execution.

To address this, Redick has initiated weekly culture meetings- intimate, agenda-free conversations with team leaders to talk beyond Xs and Os. The goal? To build trust, chemistry, and something that lasts. It’s here that the parallels between his two worlds start to surface.

Redick’s wildfire response was deeply strategic. He brought stakeholders together, mobilized resources, and kept long-term outcomes front and center. He unified a fractured city when few thought it possible.

Now, the challenge is to do the same in the Lakers locker room. In a 2024 interview, Redick defined culture as “how a group interacts with each other and what the group prioritizes.” That definition feels prophetic today, whether you’re rebuilding a burned-down park or a broken-down team.

And if Redick can turn a disaster into a movement, then maybe, just maybe, he’s the kind of leader Los Angeles didn’t know it needed.