Michael Fletcher is a senior writer with ESPN’s enterprise and investigative team. Before that, he wrote for ESPN’s The Undefeated, focusing on politics, criminal justice and social issues. He spent 21 years at The Washington Post, where his beats included the national economy, the White House and race relations.
The Tennessee family accused by retired NFL star Michael Oher of tricking him into a conservatorship and claiming all the proceeds from a blockbuster film about his life responded to the allegations Tuesday by claiming that Oher threatened to go public with his story if they did not pay him $15 million.
Attorney Martin Singer issued a statement on the Tuohys’ behalf that called Oher’s claims “outlandish” and said “the idea that the family ever sought to profit off Mr. Oher is not only offensive, it is transparently ridiculous.”
“In reality, the Tuohys opened their home to Mr. Oher, offered him structure, support and, most of all, unconditional love,” Singer’s statement said. “They have consistently treated him like a son and one of their three children. His response was to threaten them, including saying that he would plant a negative story about them in the press unless they paid him $15 million.”
Attorney Don Barrett, a member of Oher’s legal team, said in a statement Tuesday night, “We try cases in the courtroom based on the facts. We have confidence in our judicial system and in our client Michael Oher. We believe that justice will be served in the courtroom, and we hope to get there quickly.”
The story of Leigh Anne and Sean Tuohy and their efforts to help raise Oher out of poverty to the NFL was immortalized in the 2009 movie “The Blind Side.” On Monday, Oher petitioned a Tennessee probate court with allegations that a central element of the story — that the Tuohys had adopted him — was a lie concocted by the family to enrich itself. Instead, less than three months after Oher turned 18 in 2004, the petition says, the couple tricked him into signing a document making them his conservators, which gave them legal authority to make business deals in his name.
The petition further alleges that the Tuohys used their power as conservators to strike a deal that paid them and their two birth children millions of dollars in royalties from an Oscar-winning film that earned more than $300 million, while Oher got nothing for a story “that would not have existed without him.” According to the legal filing, the movie paid the Tuohys each $225,000, plus 2.5% of the film’s “defined net proceeds.” In the years since, the Tuohys have continued calling the 37-year-old Oher their adopted son and have used that assertion to promote their foundation as well as Leigh Anne Tuohy’s work as an author and motivational speaker.
In his statement, Singer said agents for Michael Lewis, author of the bestselling book that became “The Blind Side,” negotiated a deal in which the Tuohy family “received a small advance from the production company and a tiny percentage of net profits.”
“They insisted that any money received be divided equally. And they have made good on that pledge,” the statement said. “The evidence — documented in profit participation checks and studio accounting statements — is clear: over the years, the Tuohys have given Mr. Oher an equal cut of every penny received from ‘The Blind Side.’ Even recently, when Mr. Oher started to threaten them about what he would do unless they paid him an eight-figure windfall, and, as part of that shakedown effort refused to cash the small profit checks from the Tuohys, they still deposited Mr. Oher’s equal share into a trust account they set up for his son.”
Singer’s statement said Oher “has actually attempted to run this play several times before — but it seems that numerous other lawyers stopped representing him once they saw the evidence and learned the truth. Sadly, Mr. Oher has finally found a willing enabler and filed this ludicrous lawsuit as a cynical attempt to drum up attention in the middle of his latest book tour.”
In his court petition, Oher asks for a judge to terminate the conservatorship granted to the Tuohys in August 2004 and also a full accounting of the money the Tuohys earned using Oher’s name, and to have the couple pay him his fair share of profits, as well as unspecified compensatory and punitive damages.
Singer said the family will not oppose the termination of their guardianship but “will not hesitate to defend their good names, stand up to this shakedown and defeat this offensive lawsuit.”
Pittsburgh Pirates CEO Travis Williams said the organization is committed to winning but declared to frustrated fans that owner Bob Nutting will not sell the team.
Williams addressed fans’ frustration over Nutting’s ownership Saturday during a Q&A session at the Pirates’ annual offseason fan fest.
As Williams was responding to the first question, one fan in attendance shouted, “Sell the team,” prompting some applause from the audience. At that point, several fans started chanting, “Sell the team!”
Greg Brown, the Pirates’ longtime television play-by-play announcer, asked the fans to stop the chant and to “be respectful.” Another fan then asked Williams, who was seated next to Pirates general manager Ben Cherington and manager Derek Shelton, why Nutting was not in attendance.
“We know, at the end of the day, this is all passion that has turned into frustration relative to winning,” Williams said, according to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. “I think the points that you are making in terms of ‘Where is Bob?’ That’s why he has us here, we’re here to execute and make sure that we win.”
Williams added that Nutting, who has owned the Pirates since 2018, was scheduled to attend the event and interact with fans at some point later Saturday.
“To answer your immediate question that you said earlier, Bob is not going to sell the team,” Williams said. “He cares about Pittsburgh, he cares about winning, he cares about us putting a winning product on the field, and we’re working towards that every day.”
Nutting has been widely criticized by fans and local media in recent years as the Pirates have toiled at or near the bottom of the National League Central standings.
The Pirates went 76-86 last season en route to their fourth last-place finish in the past six seasons. They have not finished with a winning record since 2018, have not reached the playoffs since 2015 and have just three postseason appearances since 1992.
“We know that there is frustration, frustration because we are not winning, with the expectations of winning,” Williams said. “At the end of the day, that’s not due to lack of commitment to want to win.”
Spurred by the arrival of ace pitcher Paul Skenes, the reigning NL Rookie of the Year, the Pirates were 55-52 at the trade deadline last season before a 21-34 free fall through the final two months dropped Pittsburgh to last in the NL Central.
“We can just look at last year,” Williams said. “It was a big positive going through the middle of the season, we were going into August two games above .500, but unfortunately we had a tough run in August and that tough run in August took us out of the hunt for the wild card. … From myself to Ben to Derek to lots of other people that are here today and throughout the entire organization, but that’s not for a lack of commitment or desire to win whatsoever.
“That’s from the top all the way down to the bottom of the organization. We are absolutely committed to win; what we need to do is find a way to win.”
ESPN baseball reporter. Covered the L.A. Rams for ESPN from 2016 to 2018 and the L.A. Angels for MLB.com from 2012 to 2016.
The Los Angeles Dodgers have added left-hander Tanner Scott, arguably the best relief pitcher on the free agent market, agreeing to terms on a four-year, $72 million contract, sources told ESPN’s Jeff Passan on Sunday.
The addition of Scott likely puts the finishing touches on another busy offseason for the reigning World Series champions.
Before Scott, the Dodgers signed Blake Snell, one of the best starters on the market; brought back Teoscar Hernandez and signed Michael Conforto, solidifying the corner outfield; signed Korean second baseman Hyeseong Kim, freeing up a trade of Gavin Lux; extended Tommy Edman; and, in one of the winter’s biggest developments, lured phenom Roki Sasaki.
Originally a sixth-round pick in 2014, Scott has established himself as a dominant force over these past two years. With the Miami Marlins and San Diego Padres from 2023 to 2024, Scott posted a 2.04 ERA in 146 appearances, striking out 188 batters and issuing 60 walks in 150 innings.
With Scott, the Dodgers’ luxury tax payroll is estimated to be somewhere in the neighborhood of $375 million, about $70 million more than that of the second-place Philadelphia Phillies.
The New York Yankees are the only other team with a competitive balance tax payroll projected to be over $300 million.
ATLANTA — “Think traditionally, but without traditional thinking.”
Those were the words of Ross Bjork, the still-new Ohio State athletic director during the Saturday morning media day ahead of Monday night’s College Football Playoff National Championship game. The question was about the balanced approach taken by his football program, and also by the opponent, Notre Dame. The Buckeyes and Fighting Irish inarguably rank among the most tradition-rich teams in the 155-year history of college football. Yet, here they are, after a combined 271 seasons, the second- and fourth-winningest programs of all time, having steered their way to the final game of this season by embracing modernized approaches to the sport while honoring the history that is as much a part of their DNA as helmets and shoulder pads.
Maintaining the shine on those silver and gold helmets by piling up silver and gold in the form of NIL money.
“We want to work at these places because of what they are and what they have been and the success they’ve enjoyed,” Bjork said. “But we have also been charged with ensuring that’s what they continue to be.”
Bjork said that just as the Buckeyes were ending their media day session and the players who earned a spot in the title game, the ones who cost $20 million to assemble, according to Bjork, filed in around him and headed for the team bus. His mantra about respecting the past while moving toward the future was uttered as 45-year-old head coach Ryan Day was holding court at a podium just over his boss’s shoulder. Day’s big-game failures lit the spark needed to raise those millions to sign those players who are now in Atlanta needing only one more win to earn Ohio State’s first national title in a decade.
When the Buckeyes exited the room, their seats were filled by their counterparts at Notre Dame, whose roster includes 10 additions via transfer, once a taboo subject in South Bend, Indiana. The players opted to play in northern Indiana partly due to the just-established coffers of name, image and likeness money. Those new arrivals included the quarterback from Duke who led the Irish downfield late against Penn State in the CFP semifinals, setting up the transfer kicker from South Carolina who kicked the game-winning field goal. Now, Notre Dame football is on the cusp of its first national title since 1988, when cell phones were still carried in shoulder bags. As the Irish players took their places, coach Marcus Freeman, the human energy shot, immediately and unknowingly parroted Bjork.
“Our everyday walk is spent with one foot firmly planted in our past, but that other foot is always stepping in our future.”
Is that easy, Coach?
“No. But it’s also not a burden. It’s a privilege. Once you understand that, it’s worth it. And what makes it worth it is … well …”
With a smile, the 39-year-old coach — a former All-Big Ten Ohio State defender — swept his hand broadly, toward Mercedes-Benz Stadium across the street, toward the gold-wearing Notre Dame faithful in the nearby Playoff Fan Central craning their necks to see their Irish, and toward the cylindrical gold CFP championship trophy, sitting atop a podium in Freeman’s sightline.
“You win football games by being smart and working hard, that’s no secret,” Freeman’s quarterback, Riley Leonard, said. “But you also have to evolve. I think that in college football now, as much as it keeps changing, programs and universities have to change with it. Your choice is to either do that or get left behind.”
But evolution is also a choice. The dinosaurs didn’t have to walk into the tar pits. And college football programs — even old-timers such as Ohio State and Notre Dame — don’t have to walk into the quicksand of mediocrity, led there by the blinders of obligation to keep on keeping on the same way that Knute Rockne and Woody Hayes did.
“The greatest challenge isn’t changing the minds of the people inside the football building. They are living it. They are going to do whatever it takes,” former Notre Dame QB Brady Quinn, now a college football analyst for Fox, said in December as his alma mater began its CFP run. “It’s making the people who support the program understand what needs to be done. Making them understand that the way it always worked, the way their favorite teams were built, is not how it works now. And then explaining that their support that might have always just been rooting for the team, even buying season tickets, that support needs to be backed monetarily. That makes some people uncomfortable, but it is also the reality. And it pays off. Literally.”
Freeman’s predecessor at Notre Dame, Brian Kelly, has come under fire from those who love the Irish, and some of that is warranted. But criticism that he didn’t understand the modern business model like Freeman does isn’t entirely accurate. That model has changed dramatically since Kelly’s sudden departure for LSU three years ago. Even while he still had the job, finishing his 12 seasons only 13 wins shy of Rockne’s record 105, Kelly openly described the daily tug-of-war between pulling Notre Dame into the current times while also wrestling with the longtime program backers who resisted change, aka “the Gold Seats.”
For example, replacing the analog clock and scoreboards that had long sat atop the end zone edges of Notre Dame Stadium became a battle as Kelly hoped to add videoboards. After a years-long debate, the compromise was to add the TV screens, but keep them to a modest size, similar to the old scoreboards, and immediately prior to and after games, the displays on those screens were to be changed to digital images of the old clock and scoreboard.
“Those are the challenges that you face at a university like Notre Dame that I don’t believe you do anywhere else, and I certainly coached at a lot of other places,” said Lou Holtz, chuckling when discussing his 11 years in South Bend, winning that 1988 national championship and finishing right behind Rockne with 100 victories. “There is no question that it took cooperation from the administration, after some hard conversations about where we wanted Notre Dame football to be in the future, for me to get a player like Tony Rice [QB on the ’88 team] into school. I went to [then-president] Father Joyce and appealed to him directly. But I was told he would be admitted only if he proved himself academically for a year, to go nowhere near a football game. And guess what? Tony Rice has his degree from Notre Dame and to this day, is one the most beloved players in the history of the program. We found his place, and we did it within the framework of what one might call the Notre Dame Way.”
It was with that same mentality that Freeman went about selling the idea of bringing in transfers — a practice rarely entertained by a school understandably proud of its academic reputation — as something that could still fit into the parameters of the Notre Dame Way. The 2024 roster additions were carefully selected. They were established stars but also largely graduate transfers already with college degrees. Two players were required to wait until summer to enroll after their degrees were completed, and in the meantime, were relegated to spring practice observers.
Leonard is an undergrad, but no one questions Duke’s academic credentials. He is also a Notre Dame legacy, the great-grandson of James Curran, a 1940 Irish graduate who played football under head coach Elmer Layden, one of the fabled Four Horsemen.
“The transfer portal has really helped us because it’s allowed us to address specific needs, but it’s also helped us distinguish ourselves as a program in the sense that our kids are still picking Notre Dame for a host of reasons, not just NIL,” said Jack Swarbrick, who served as Notre Dame’s AD from 2008 to 2024 and made the decision to promote Freeman after Kelly’s departure. “No one would come to Notre Dame just for NIL. It’s too hard. If all you worried about is the compensation, you’ll go get it somewhere else. … So, for all the schools that are just recruiting with an emphasis on compensation, we’re now even more distinct than we used to be, and I think that’s helped.
“We have to be very careful in the transfer portal. It’s why nine out of 10 are grad students. It’s just really hard to get undergraduate transfers into Notre Dame.”
As Freeman bolstered his roster in the most gold-helmeted fashion, many who had worn those helmets paved the NIL road. That effort was anchored by a collective kick-started by Quinn, with a stated mission of proving to those Gold Seats who feared the future that their shared alma mater could keep up with the times and still do it on their terms. Friends of the University of Notre Dame — FUND — paid athletes for charity work. Now that the NIL structure has changed again, FUND has been closed, handing over the reins to for-profit collective Rally, designed to better handle the next imminent sea change — revenue sharing.
“It is very important to all of us to do everything we can to honor the hard work and investment that so many people are putting in us, especially the former players,” said sophomore defensive back Christian Grey, who hauled in an interception that set up that final CFP semifinal-winning drive for Leonard & Co. “To me, that’s also learning the history of Notre Dame football. My high school English teacher [in St. Louis] was a Notre Dame grad and he taught me that as soon as I committed. He gave me a Four Horseman poster and it’s been on my wall ever since. It reminds me of what we are playing for. Past and present.”
Meanwhile, it was Ryan Day who spurred the NIL and roster revolution in Columbus. Bjork took over as Ohio State AD one year ago, mere days after Buckeyes archenemy Michigan had won its first national championship in 26 years — this after beating OSU for the third straight season. Bjork hadn’t even unpacked his office when Day approached him with a detailed plan on how to catch up to Michigan. Together, they drummed up financial support, having to point only to the Wolverines’ title run as the reason to start cutting checks. Among those listening were former players.
“We had started a collective, the Foundation, in 2023 because we saw what was happening at places like Texas, Alabama, Michigan, you name it, and we knew our school was falling behind,” said Cardale Jones, quarterback on Ohio State’s 2014 team that won the inaugural CFP title. “Sadly, we didn’t get a lot of support from the school itself. But once that commitment started coming from the inside, you see what happened.”
What happened was that $20 million shopping spree that led to a stunning influx and retention of talent, the most impressive offseason this side of the Philadelphia Eagles. And just when it appeared that de facto Avengers assemblage might not pay off — see: two regular-season losses, including a fourth straight to Michigan — the team that entered the newly expanded 12-team CFP as an at-large invitee has been a Buckeye Buzzsaw. A return on investment.
So is there a long-term place in a universe of perpetual college football change for stuff like gold helmets and Buckeye helmet stickers? The House that Knute Rockne Built and the Horseshoe? “Wake Up the Echoes” and the script Ohio? Stories of Paul Hornung and Hopalong Cassady, or George Gipp and Archie Griffin? Is this fast-forward sport of checks and cascading spreadsheets a place where lighting candles in the Grotto and chanting “O-H! I-O!” is anything other than outdated?
Day and Freeman not only believe all of that can coexist within the framework of the modern college football world, but the two head coaches who will shake hands at midfield Monday night — one a champion — believe that all of the above is the key to survival. The grounding rod. The only way to properly digest — or enjoy — what this world has become.
It’s why Freeman reinstated the lost tradition of Notre Dame football players attending Mass as part of their pregame routine; he has converted to Catholicism. It’s why Day got misty-eyed Saturday morning when asked about Ohio State’s Friday night golf course dinners, with the homemade pecan rolls that became a staple of the Woody Hayes experience, and leading his team into pregame Skull Session pep rallies.
“We are in this to win games and championships, but also to do right by our players and by those who have spent their lives dedicated to the idea of Notre Dame football,” Freeman said. “You lose sight of any part of that, and you’ve lost sight of what this all means.”
Added Day: “As long as they have been playing college football, the greatest programs have stayed great by adapting to the times they are in. You evolve your defense. You evolve your offense. So you also have to evolve how you run your program. But you can’t run away from who you are. You cannot let that happen. Ever. That’s when you lose a lot more than some football games.”