Go Tigers!

Bill Murray at Clemson Tigers game
We’d like to thank Drew for today’s story.

The date was October 19, 2013. It was a foggy morning in the small, but loud, town of Clemson, South Carolina. It was a typical Saturday morning for this time of year – full of tailgating in anticipation for the local football team, The Clemson Tigers.

The matchup was against the Florida State Seminoles, and both teams were top ranked, Clemson third and FSU 5th. ESPN GameDay had made its way to campus to showcase the game. They picked Bill Murray as the guest speaker, since Murray’s son Jackson attends Clemson; I’ve even had classes with him. We all saw Murray ruin Corso’s pick reveal on Gameday, but the cameras missed Bill’s best moment of the day.

Later, as I was walking around Bowman Field I say Murray over near the road. As I approached I noticed a young college girl covered in Seminole attire walk over to Murray and hand him an FSU themed football asking if he would sign it. Murray took the football from here, said “Go Tigers”, PUNTED the football over the road into a big group of bushes, and ran off. It was single-handedly the funniest thing I have ever witnessed!

Go Tigers.

Foul Ball

We’d like to thank Chris for sharing this story.

In the late ’80s when I was very young, my parents took me to a Salt Lake Trappers game in Salt Lake City. Bill Murray was part owner of the team at the time and, on the night we attended, he happened to be at the game. During one of the breaks between innings, several of the players grabbed Bill and dragged him around the bases.

My dad happened to catch a foul ball during the game. Afterwards, he snuck onto the field and into the player’s dugout, where he asked Bill to autograph his baseball. Bill took the ball and asked my dad, “Aren’t you supposed to give these back?” My dad didn’t know how to reply until Bill smiled, signed the ball, and handed it back to him.

Me, Bill, and a Pimp Named Goldy

The FIne Line Music Cafe
We’d like to thank Mark McManus for today’s story.

I was working as a doorman at the Fine Line in Minneapolis, on a night when EL Vez was playing, back in the early 90s. I noticed our girl at the ticket booth turn away Bill, his two kids, Ahmad Rashad, and some other sports figure I didn’t recognize. I quickly ran out the door to find out why.

“Hey, Bill. What’s going on?”

“Oh, this girl said I can’t come in here with my kids. They’re not old enough.” Meanwhile, Rashad is going off on how dark the club is. It was night, and he was wearing sunglasses. Continue reading