A BYU basketball player became the face of Tater Tots in March Madness. Here’s why.

Denver • The heir to the Tater Tot kingdom has been on a mission of sorts.

For the last decade of his life, Les Grigg fought to keep his little niche of U.S. history preserved: the story of the deep fried delectable that Americans consume more than 70 million pounds of each year.

Grigg created a documentary about how his uncle, Nephi Grigg, invented the Tater Tot. He petitioned museums to include Tater Tot exhibits. He’s even written letters to upwards of 20 celebrities to endorse the Tater Tot foundation he created.

Among them, he hit up Reba McEntire, the Queen of Country music, to drum up support for his cause.

“She is the self-proclaimed queen of tots,” Grigg said laughing, lamenting that McEntire didn’t respond.

And for the last year, Grigg feared it would all be in vain, the Grigg family legacy lost to the sands of time. That, he said, would be an “injustice to America.”

Until this February, when a celebrity endorsement for the Tater Tot story landed in his lap.

Grigg, from Oregon and a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, grew up a BYU fan. A few of his grandchildren live in Provo and he planned to take them to a basketball game for their birthday. Of course, the talk was centered on Richie Saunders, the Cougars’ first team all-Big 12 star who’s emerged as an NBA prospect.

And that’s when Steve Grigg, Les’ cousin, relayed the news.

“We were hanging out the night before the game. And he said, ‘You know who Richie’s grandmother is right? It’s Delma,” Les Grigg remembered. “I said, ‘What? That’s my second cousin. Delma Grigg Saunders.”

That would mean Richie was the great grandson of Nephi Grigg.

There it was. Saunders, a direct descendant of the Tater Tot.

Grigg met Saunders that night and since then Tater Tot propaganda has been pushed to the country. Memes of Saunders shooting a Tater Tot rather than a basketball were made. ESPN mentioned it on the broadcast in the Big 12 tournament. Saunders took a few pictures holding a Tater Tot bag.

And the story will take an even bigger leap this week when Saunders plays in the NCAA Tournament against VCU — a quirky March Madness anecdote.

Nobody will forget about the Grigg-Saunders legacy anytime soon. But it’s a story even more complicated than you, or Saunders, might think.

Two truths and a lie

Saunders loosely knew his family history growing up. He’d play two truths and a lie with friends and break out that his great grandfather was the king of the tot.

“People would be like, ‘No.’” Saunders said, shaking his head. “Yeah, look it up. I always talked about it. Like just a random little thing.”

But he didn’t know the full story until recently.

As it’s retold, Nephi Grigg was one of 13 siblings — many of them working on potato farms in some way. Up in Ontario, Oregon, plying the land, or working the potato plant, was the thing to do.

Nephi started on the potato line. His brother built a potato plant in Burley, Idaho. Les stocked the plant’s vending machines when he reached fourth grade.

And by the 1950s, Nephi owned the plant in Oregon. But he struggled to figure out what to do with the leftover potato scraps and spuds that were too small to make french fries.

He and his brother, Golden, tinkered with solutions until they dreamed of a bite-sized french fry. They created the “Holey Board,” a contraption that molded the scraps into popper-sized bites. They deep fried them — and there you had it: the Tater Tot.

To test their taste, they packed up a crate full of 15 pounds of tots and dry ice and ventured to Miami. The Fontainebleau Resort was having a convention.

“Knocked on the back door and bribed the head cook with a $100 bill,” Grigg said. “He distributed them to everyone.”

It wasn’t until 1955 when the tot got its official name. As lore has it, Nephi had a naming contest among workers at the plant. Somebody pulled out a thesaurus for alternate names for a spud — tater was born. Tot followed because it was the baby version of the french fry.

It set off a business behemoth.

“It’s smart,” Saunders said. “Using the scraps, especially during that time after the Great Depression and everything.”

Bringing the family together

When Saunders first heard about Grigg’s crusade to keep the Tater Tot legacy alive, he laughed out loud.

“That’s hilarious,” he said. “People are respecting the name.”

But apparently there was quite the struggle.

After Heinz bought out Ore-Ida, Grigg’s company, it assumed the trademark for Tater Tots and kept the Holey Board in a factory in Oregon.

For years, Grigg battled to get the Holey Board out to a museum and bring the Grigg story to the masses. But he didn’t have the rights.

“I have been amazed at how many news broadcasters and newspaper people have this mistaken belief that Tater Tots were an accident. It wasn’t an accident,” he said.

Grigg went to the Idaho Potato Museum to try to get a Tater Tot exhibit, but talks fizzed out.

Eventually, Heinz sold off its rights to Simplot, and Grigg had the blessing to use the Tater Tot trademark in his retelling.

“I’m the voice for the untold story of the Holey Board,” Grigg said. “I’m the torch bearer, if you will, of making the family legacy as famous as the Tater Tot. It’s really bringing together our family.”

That meant bringing together family he never knew, Saunders included.

A March run

Grigg will be watching when Saunders opens up the NCAA Tournament this week. BYU’s hopes hinge on Saunders — its best player — with his 16 points per game and ability to pick apart defenses.

But Grigg will also be listening for any mentions of the Tater Tot on the broadcast.

The irony isn’t lost on him. After spending years looking for a celebrity to bring attention to the Tater Tot legacy, it’s his own family who will be the biggest endorsement.

“Sitting under my nose is a great celebrity,” he said. “I’d been watching Richie for years, just as a fan.”

He’s trying to set up a March Madness NIL deal with Saunders, which was announced on Thursday morning.

Now, as Saunders tries to take BYU to the Sweet 16 for the first time since 2011, there is something more riding on it.

It’s the history of a uniquely American snack.