CLEMSON, S.C. — Nick Eason was lacing up a pair of cleats he’d borrowed from Clemson‘s equipment manager a few minutes before 5 a.m. when Ruke Orhorhoro first spotted his coach. It’s not that it was a shock to see Eason there. Clemson’s defensive tackles coach had been promising to run through the team’s offseason mat drills for a while, but Orhorhoro had always been skeptical. Eason is 42, 12 years removed from his last NFL game, and until recently, he’d been pushing 400 pounds.
“I was confused,” Orhorhoro said. “I was like, ‘What is this cat doing?’ Coaches don’t do mat drills. That just doesn’t happen.”
Mat drills are a staple of Clemson’s offseason conditioning, a gauntlet of high intensity, progressive workouts lasting about five minutes each — rope drills, agility drills, bear crawls, flips, tumbling, sled work, footwork drills. It’s as much a mental challenge as a physical one, something Orhorhoro paradoxically says, “has nothing to do with football but also everything to do with football.”
As other players arrived, Eason’s presence was met with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
“They were taking side bets on how long I’d last,” said Eason, who’ll lead one of Clemson’s units in its intrasquad spring game on Saturday.
But Eason had no intention of quitting. The way he saw it, there were three ways this ended: He passed out, he died or he finished.
Since he arrived at Clemson in January 2022, Eason’s approach to the job has been immersive. His first conversation with Orhorhoro was a two-hour therapy session, an unfurling of Eason’s own life story as a means of getting to know one of his new players. He invites his linemen to his house for dinner. He takes them to church with him on Sundays. And he’s always believed he should never ask something of his players he’s not willing to ask of himself.
No one expected that commitment to include mat drills, but Eason was determined. He ran through the first drill, then the second and third and just kept going. He finished every station, often leading the pack.
“He’s going to do everything he can to show that nothing’s impossible if you do the work,” defensive tackle Tyler Davis said. “It was amazing.”
Eason wasn’t amazed though.
Fifteen months ago, Eason came to Clemson overweight, depressed and lost. He’s trying to find his way back to a better equilibrium now, and mat drills were really just a bench mark, a chance to check his progress and gauge how much farther he still had to go.
He’s lost 62 pounds in the past year. He hasn’t had meat or dairy in seven months. He’s pulled himself out of the darkest chapter of his life, and he’s found renewed hope at his alma mater, not by trying to recapture his youth, but by finding a better balance in his life.
“I look at old pictures, and sometimes that’s the worst thing to do,” Eason said. “But I’m looking at the 42-year-old version of myself now, and it’s still not where I want it to be, but I didn’t get here overnight and it’s not going to get fixed overnight. It takes a lot of patience and keeping the right perspective on the little things I’ve done just making the effort to get up every day and keep trying.”
BACK HOME IN Georgia, food is the connective tissue that binds folks together.
“When I go home, it’s, ‘Come over to my house and let’s eat,'” Eason said. “Go to church and let’s eat. Saturday in the park and let’s eat.”
But food took its toll on Eason’s family. Nearly all his relatives were overweight. Two uncles died in their early 50s. The ones who survived longer often ended up on dialysis, their bodies breaking down so drastically that their later years lacked any sense of joy. Eason remembers a time when he was playing with the Pittsburgh Steelers when a coach posed a question: How many 300-pound 80-year-olds did he know? Eason said he didn’t know any.
“Right,” said the coach. “They’re all dead.”
Food couldn’t be the centerpiece of Eason’s existence if he wanted to live a long and happy life, but his relationship with food was complicated.
He is, he said, “an emotional eater,” and when times have been hard, he would turn to the things that always brought him comfort.
Double cheeseburgers.
Little Debbies.
Oreos.
Through COVID-19, Eason actually found a healthy rhythm. He ate well. He exercised. He trimmed down. But by the summer of 2021, things began to unravel.
Eason was a popular player at Clemson during his college days, but he’d only kept in regular contact with a few former teammates over the years. His closest friend from those days was Altroy Bodrick, a former Tigers linebacker who’d made a point to call Eason regularly and drive to his games. In late June 2021, Bodrick had a massive heart attack and died. He was 41. Eason was devastated.
Three months later, Eason’s grandmother, too, suffered a heart attack. Betty Holland had always been his rock, the person who’d inspired him to play football, to find God, to chase his dreams. Now she was in hospice care, and Eason spent two months driving three hours from Auburn, where he was coaching at the time, to visit her for an hour or two before turning around and making the drive back home. Holland died in November 2021.
Eason fell into a deep depression. His relationships with some members of his family were frayed at the time, he said, and he didn’t feel comfortable talking about his struggles with many people around him.
“You see Nick, and everything looks perfect, but he just wasn’t right,” Clemson head coach Dabo Swinney said.
Instead, he ate, and he worked, and he cried, and that was his life for nearly a year.
“It’s real, man. Human,” Eason said. “I’m a human. And it’s being able to survive those tough moments, and unfortunately that was my way of surviving. … I just kind of ate my depression.”
By the start of last football season, Eason weighed in at 394 pounds, the heaviest he’d ever been.
When he went to the doctor, the conversation went about as expected. They talked about heart disease and diabetes and blood-pressure medication. Eason needed to change, or he would die.
Truth is, Eason hadn’t really been living for the past year anyway. He’d let his grief overwhelm him, and he’d soothed that hurt with sugar and fatty foods.
“I just told myself, ‘You’re done with whatever you’ve got going on. You have to get it together or you’re not going to live,'” Eason recalled.
AN AVERAGE DAY of eating for Eason before he changed his life:
Breakfast: grits, eggs, bacon, a biscuit and, on a particularly indulgent day, pancakes.
Lunch: a double cheeseburger plate, ideally from Mac’s Drive-In, where he’d add a couple slaw dogs (all the way), a sweet tea and a milkshake.
Dinner: it varied, but Blue Heron outside Clemson was a favorite. He’d order sushi or calamari to start. Then salmon, grits and collards. A couple drinks. Then the coup de gras was a double serving of their cobbler (“The best in the city,” Eason said).
And then snacks: Little Debbie oatmeal pies, zebra cakes, chocolate chip cookies dipped in milk. Sodas. Oreos.
Total calorie count: Don’t ask.
“A lot of people turn to alcohol and drugs, and that’s not my thing. But an Oreo cookie or some ice cream or a juicy burger is right down my alley,” Eason said. “I’m just eating, eating and eating, and I’m feeling good. And that’s a trigger in your brain. You wake up to steak and biscuits and grits and eggs. Working out, that’s pain. I was choosing what was easy.”
Eason still talks lovingly about his favorite foods and restaurants, but his binging days are behind him. He’s gone vegan, and he has most meals prepped for him by a vegan restaurant in Greenville, South Carolina. The cheeseburgers have been replaced by black bean burgers that he eats with homemade French fries he cooks in his air fryer. He makes rice bowls — whole grain rice only, he said — and tops them with mushrooms and red peppers. He’s stopped guzzling sodas and now drinks water.
It’s a marked change to his lifestyle, but Eason said it was just a matter of making a decision and committing to it.
“It became a battlefield of the mind,” he said, “and once my mind is made up my body follows.”
Orhorhoro said his roommate, Jalyn Phillips, saw Eason recently and was so shocked by the new physique he was initially worried the coach was sick.
Nope. Eason is better than ever.
It’s not just the new diet either, Eason said. He works out three days a week at a local gym owned by former Clemson linebacker Ben Boulware. And because Swinney has always prioritized family time, it’s allowed Eason a chance to get back to Atlanta and spend time with family.
“In this business, I call myself a bad dad,” Eason said. “I take care of my kids financially, but you’re just never there.”
In the past year, however, Eason’s been home routinely, sitting in the stands for a majority of his son’s high school games.
More than anything, Eason’s opened up. He’s built trust with the people around him. He’s not pretending everything is OK while burying his feelings under a mountain of bacon and grits. He’s even sharing his journey publicly in hopes others will find hope in his success.
In 2021, I lost my former teammate and dear friend. Months later I lost the rock of my life, my grandmother. For a year, I ate on 80 pounds of depression. BUT I PRAYED and challenged myself to model the “hard work” I demanded of my players. I’m down 62 pounds, with 40 more… pic.twitter.com/vW47HQTMfg
Swinney recalled his own struggles growing up amid poverty with a father who often drank too much, and how opening up about his journey offered a sense of peace. He sees parallels for Eason.
“Things I was embarrassed about as a kid, later on in life it helped me to share it and to realize that there was other people like me,” Swinney said. “That freed me up to speak about things I never would’ve spoken about before. Nick’s the same way. He knows he can inspire other people by what he’s been through.”
Eason isn’t at the end of the journey, he said. He’s got at least another 32 pounds to lose before the season starts. But that’s just a number, really. He admits his post-NFL career has been something of a yo-yo when it comes to his weight, so all the progress he’s made is simply a step — a big one — in an ongoing process of figuring out a better way to live and also lead.
The 400-pound Nick Eason was still a good coach who loved his players. This version, however — the one closing in on 300 pounds — isn’t simply teaching his guys. He’s showing them the way.
“Even when he was too heavy, he was a ton of energy,” Swinney said. “But now, he’s unstoppable and the players truly, truly love him. He’s special.”
COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. — Ichiro Suzuki became the first Japanese-born player to be enshrined into the National Baseball Hall of Fame on Sunday, one of five new members of baseball’s hallowed institution.
After enduring the baseball tradition known as a rain delay, the five speeches went off without a hitch as the deluge subsided and the weather became hot and humid. Joining Suzuki were pitchers CC Sabathia and Billy Wagner, and sluggers Dick Allen and Dave Parker, both of whom were enshrined posthumously.
“For the third time, I am a rookie,” Suzuki said, delivering his comments in English despite his long preference for conducting his public appearances in Japanese with the aid of an interpreter.
For the American audience, this provided a rare glimpse into Suzuki’s playful side. Teammates long spoke of his sense of humor behind the closed doors of the clubhouse — something the public rarely saw — but it was on full display Sunday.
When Hall voting was announced, Suzuki fell one vote shy of becoming the second unanimous selection for the Hall. He thanked the writers for their support — with an exception.
“Three-thousand [career] hits or 262 hits in one season are achievements recognized by the writers,” Suzuki said. “Except, oh, one of you.”
After the laughter subsided, Suzuki mentioned the gracious comments he made when balloting results were announced, when he offered to invite the writer who didn’t vote for him home for dinner to learn his reasoning. Turns out, it’s too late.
“The offer to the one writer to have dinner at my home has now … expired!” Suzuki said.
Suzuki’s attention to detail and unmatched work ethic have continued into the present day, more than five years since he played his last big league game. That was central to his message Sunday, at least when he wasn’t landing a joke.
“If you consistently do the little things, there’s no limit to what you can achieve,” Suzuki said. “Look at me. I’m 5-11 and 170 pounds. When I came to America, many people said I was too skinny to compete with bigger major leaguers.”
After becoming one of the biggest stars in Japanese baseball, hitting .353 over nine seasons for the Orix BlueWave, Suzuki exploded on the scene as a 27-year-old rookie for the Seattle Mariners, batting .350 and winning the AL Rookie of the Year and MVP honors.
Chants of “Ichiro!” that once were omnipresent at Mariners games erupted from the crowd sprawled across the grounds of the complex while the all-time single-season hits leader (262 in 2004) posed with his plaque alongside commissioner Rob Manfred and Hall of Fame chairman Jane Forbes Clark.
Despite his late start in MLB, Suzuki finished with 3,089 hits in the majors and 4,367 including his time in Japan. Suzuki listed some of his feats, such as the hit total, and his 10 Gold Gloves.
“Not bad,” he said.
Sabathia’s weekend got off to a mildly rough start when his wife’s car broke down shortly after the family caravan departed for Cooperstown. They arrived in plenty of time though, and Sabathia was greeted warmly by numerous Yankees fans who made the trip.
After breaking in with Cleveland at age 20, Sabathia rocketed to stardom with a 17-5 rookie season. Alas, that came in 2001, the same year that Suzuki landed in the American League.
“Thank you most of all to the great players sitting behind me,” Sabathia said. “I am so proud and humbled to join you as a Hall of Famer, even Ichiro, who stole my Rookie of the Year Award in 2001.”
Sabathia focused the bulk of his comments on the support he has received over the years from his friends and family, especially his wife, Amber.
“The first time we met was at a house party when I was a junior in high school,” Sabathia said. “We spent the whole night talking, and that conversation has been going on for 29 years.”
Parker, 74, died from complications of Parkinson’s disease on June 28, less than a month before the induction ceremony. Representing him at the dais was his son, Dave Parker II, and though the moment was bittersweet, it was hardly somber.
Parker II finished the speech with a moving poem written by his father that, for a few minutes, made it feel as if the player nicknamed “The Cobra” were present.
“Thanks for staying by my side,” Parker’s poem concluded. “I told y’all Cooperstown would be my last rap, so the star of Dave will be in the sky tonight. Watch it glow. But I didn’t lie in my documentary — I told you I wouldn’t show.”
Parker finished with 2,712 hits and 339 homers, won two Gold Gloves on the strength of his legendary right-field arm and was named NL MVP in 1978. He spent his first 11 seasons with the Pittsburgh Pirates and entered the Hall representing the Bucs.
Wagner, whose 422 career saves ranks eighth on the all-time list, delivered an emotional but humorous speech about a small-town guy with a small-for-a-pitcher 5-foot-10 stature who made it big.
“I feel like my baseball life has come full circle,” Wagner said. “I was a fan before I could play. Back when baseball wasn’t so available on TV, every Saturday morning I watched Johnny Bench and so many of the other greats on a show ‘The Baseball Bunch.'”
In one of the moments of baseball serendipity that only Cooperstown can provide, the telecast flashed to Bench, sitting a few feet away from where Wagner was speaking.
Allen’s widow, Willa, delivered a touching tribute to her late husband, who died in 2020 after years of feeling overlooked for his outstanding career. The 1964 NL Rookie of the Year for the Phillies, Allen won the 1972 AL MVP for the Chicago White Sox.
“Baseball was his first love,” Willa said. “He used to say, ‘I’d have played for nothing,’ and I believe he meant it. But of course, if you compare today’s salary, he played almost for nothing.”
Willa focused on the softer side of a player who in his time was perhaps unfairly characterized for a contentious relationship with the media.
“He was devoted to people, not just fans, but especially his teammates,” Willa said. “If he heard someone was sick or going through a tough time, he’ll turn to me and say, ‘Willa, they have to hear from us.'”
As part of the deal, the Cardinals will cover the majority of what remains of Fedde’s $7.5 million salary for 2025, a source told ESPN.
Fedde, 32, is a free agent at season’s end, making him a surprising pickup for a Braves team that was swept by the Texas Rangers over the weekend and is 16 games below .500, trailing the first-place New York Mets by 16½ games.
But the Braves have sustained a slew of injuries to their starting rotation of late, with AJ Smith-Shawver (torn ulnar collateral ligament), Spencer Schwellenbach (fractured elbow), Chris Sale (fractured ribcage) and, more recently, Grant Holmes (elbow inflammation) landing on the injured list since the start of June.
Fedde reestablished himself in South Korea in 2023, parlaying a dominant season into a two-year, $15 million contract to return stateside with the Chicago White Sox. Fedde continued that success in 2024, posting a 3.30 ERA in 177⅓ innings with the White Sox and Cardinals.
This year, though, it has been a struggle for a crafty right-hander who doesn’t generate a lot of strikeouts. Twenty starts in, Fedde is 3-10 with a 5.22 ERA and a 1.51 WHIP.
BOSTON — Los Angeles Dodgers two-way star Shohei Ohtani is expected to start on the mound Wednesday as he continues his buildup from elbow surgery that kept him from pitching all last season.
Manager Dave Roberts said Sunday before the Dodgers faced the Boston Red Sox in the finale of their three-game series that the plan is for Ohtani to work four innings at Cincinnati, with an off day to recover before hitting in a game.
With the Japanese superstar working his way back along with left-hander Blake Snell, who pitched 4⅔ innings on Saturday in his fourth rehab start for Triple-A Oklahoma City, the Dodgers will be using a six-man rotation.
“Shohei is going to go on Wednesday and then he’ll probably pitch the following Wednesday, so that probably lends itself to the six-man,” Roberts said.
In Ohtani’s last start, he allowed one run and four hits in three innings against Minnesota on July 22. He struck out three and walked one, throwing 46 pitches, 30 for strikes.
Roberts said this season is sort of a rehab year in the big leagues and doesn’t foresee the team extending Ohtani’s workload deep into games for a while.
“I think this whole year on the pitching side is sort of rehab, maintenance,” he said. “We’re not going to have the reins off where we’re going to say: ‘Hey you can go 110 pitches.’ I don’t see that happening for quite some time. I think that staying at four [innings] for a bit, then build up to five and we’ll see where we can go from there.”