1 of 10
The fine line between orange and garnet tends to blur outside the stadium, where friends and frenemies alike often lay aside their Clemson and South Carolina allegiances to enjoy the pure pleasures of tailgating.
Photo by Crush Rush
2 of 10
Three generations of the divided Sox family tailgate peacefully together under two tents. Clockwise from bottom left: Kevin Sox, Camden Sox, Stacie Sox, Brad Sox, Brooke Sox, Tori Sipos, Derek Sox, Stephanie Sox, Marvin Sox, Renee Sox, Robert James, Kelsi James and Jacob Sox.
Photo by Crush Rush
3 of 10
Little Clemson fan Jacob Sox lounges beneath the family tailgate tent. His grandfather Marvin Sox is a dedicated Gamecock fan as well as a Mid-Carolina Electric Cooperative board member.
Photo by Crush Rush
4 of 10
Tailgaters take a break from eating to play a game of cornhole before the main event.
Photo by Crush Rush
5 of 10
Chuck Cook flips burgers for a crowd. Feeding family and friends is one of the most important aspects of tailgating.
Photo by Crush Rush
6 of 10
The best tailgating setups include a way to watch other games before and after your own team plays.
Photo by Crush Rush
7 of 10
Four-legged fan Mia splits allegiances between frenemies Hannah and Emily.
Photo by Crush Rush
8 of 10
Siblings Warren Weeks and Shannon Weeks Taylor stand in front of their ROY Bus—inspired by one of Clemson Head Coach Dabo Swinney's motivational quips, "the Rest of Y'all."
Photo by Josh P. Crotzer
9 of 10
Brian Mueller (center) grew his "friends, family and frenemies" tailgate from a 12-pack in the back of a truck 30 years ago to a sophisticated ordeal today, featuring a swiveling TV, bars and coolers on rolling tracks, a Starlink satellite and an official pizza sponsor.
Photo by Josh P. Crotzer
10 of 10
Behold, the sea of orange and purple outside Clemson's Memorial Stadium.
Photo by Josh P. Crotzer
Any given Saturday in the fall, thousands of South Carolinians wake up early to load their vehicles with coolers, folding chairs and grills. Some drive for hours toward a parking spot they've had for decades. They erect tents and mount televisions. They fry chicken, stir grits, pour drinks and welcome family, friends and frenemies alike.
Eventually, they may make their way into the stadium to watch some football.
From the oak-shaded lots around Clemson's Memorial Stadium to the fairgrounds flanking Williams-Brice Stadium in Columbia, tailgating has evolved over generations into a community ritual more elaborate and more meaningful than a simple pregame meetup. It is a weekly homecoming event, where showing up and showing out often matters more than the final score.
Leaning against the stadium
Chris Fulmer's first University of South Carolina football game was in 1968, when the stadium was known as the Carolina Bowl. Unsurprisingly, the 49-28 loss to the University of Virginia that day is not the memory Fulmer has held onto.
"We parked right against the stadium," says Fulmer, an insurance executive and member of Aiken Electric Cooperative. "I remember getting out of my dad's van and literally leaning up against the wall as a little kid."
In those days, tailgating generally meant opening the trunk of the car and pulling out whatever his mom had packed. Over the years, the setup expanded, but the aim of the experience was always the same.
"Saturdays, that was our time together," says Fulmer, noting his father's long days at the Aiken grocery store he ran. "So going to the Carolina football game, that was family time."
The ingrained bond between football and family could be the reason Fulmer, 65, never misses an opportunity to create a place to gather whenever and wherever the Gamecocks are playing. He's missed just one home game since 1970 and none, home or away, since South Carolina's celebrated 1984 season. It's a 500-consecutive-game streak that has required some heroics. When a flight to Nashville was canceled on the day of a Vanderbilt game, he immediately hit the road and drove eight hours to make kickoff.
"I guess I've gotten this far," Fulmer says. "I'm not gonna let something get in the way just to screw it up. I'll stop going to games when the man upstairs calls me home."
Fulmer leaned even heavier into the tailgating experience at the 1994 Carquest Bowl in Miami. He and his wife, Kathy, joined forces with fellow Gamecock fans Woody Chavis, Ray Schooler and Ronnie Greer. The group was the last to leave the parking lot that night, celebrating the Gamecocks' first-ever bowl victory, cooking steaks and feeding the stadium workers.
"We thought we were the ultimate in tailgating," Fulmer says.
So that's what they became: "The Ultimate Tailgaters."
Fulmer's crew had generators, satellite dishes and "Ultimate Tailgaters"-branded shirts, hats and pullovers. They also had a motto: "First to arrive, last to leave." They'd show up two to three hours before the gates even opened, befriending the security guards and sharing food while they waited.
"We were doing stuff that nobody else was doing," says Fulmer. "I thought we were kind of ahead of the curve back then."
His love of cooking at tailgates eventually led Fulmer and Kathy to start a competition barbecue team and catering business. They now cater for official Gamecock football, baseball, softball and recruiting events. Fulmer also serves as chairman of the statewide Gamecock Club board.
Four generations in Lot 6
The Weeks family measures their tailgating history in generations. Warren Weeks and Shannon Weeks Taylor's grandfather enrolled at what was then Clemson A&M in 1926. Their father graduated in 1964. Taylor was in the class of 1990, and Weeks finished two years after that.
"Dad said, 'You can go anywhere, but I'll pay for you to go to Clemson,'" says Weeks, who now lives in Greenville and is member of Laurens Electric.
Tailgating before Clemson home games is a part of that legacy. For the past 45 years, the family has been parking in Lot 6, about a football field's distance from the cemetery that provides the pretext for Memorial Stadium's well-known moniker, Death Valley.
When Weeks and Taylor were growing up, their pre-game routine was simple. Since most home games kicked off at 1 p.m., they would leave their home in Barnwell early enough to arrive at least three hours before kickoff.
"My mom got up, fried chicken, made pimento cheese and tuna fish sandwiches, and we drove up," says Taylor, a Berkeley Electric Cooperative member who lives on Johns Island. "So, it was a lot smaller then."
Today, the family tailgates out of the ROY Bus—inspired by one of Clemson Head Coach Dabo Swinney's motivational quips, "the Rest of Y'all"—a tricked-out, cutaway Ford van that has its own social media accounts and is an annual part of Clemson's First Friday parade that kicks off each college football season. The ROY Bus is outfitted with tiger-striped granite countertops, running water and autographs from Clemson legends. Each year, Weeks adds something new with the help of his eldest daughter, Emily (Clemson class of 2023), who designs the custom graphics.
With two daughters attending Clemson for the past several years, Weeks makes sure he is ready when their friends might show up.
"We call it 'the locusts' when the college kids come by," says Weeks. "So, you always keep a 36-pack of hot dogs. You never know."
His youngest daughter, Anna, graduated from Clemson last December and is fully prepared to carry on the family legacy, especially with her degree in event planning.
"This is what led me to love event planning," she says. "It's an event every weekend. I'm excited to take over."
Brian's rules
Just down the hill from the Weeks family, behind Memorial Stadium's west endzone, is the Mettlen-Mueller Tailgate. For more than 20 years, Brian Mueller of Clemson has created a fun, filling and welcoming space for anyone to gather.
"I've got a friends, family and frenemies tailgate," Mueller says.
It, too, had humble beginnings. Early on, Mueller and his friends just dropped the tailgate on his 1994 GMC Jimmy.
"We had a 12-pack of beer and a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken," Mueller says. "We didn't even have a cooler. We just put ice in the 12-pack."
The celebration is a little more sophisticated now. Mueller converted a U-Haul truck into the ultimate tailgating vehicle—part food truck, part sports bar. It features a TV that swivels out for optimal viewing, bars and coolers on tracks so they are easy to get to and put away, a Starlink satellite for Wi-Fi connectivity and a variety of cooking equipment—a Blackstone griddle, a pizza oven and an air fryer, to name a few.
The tailgate even has a sponsor: Joe's New York Pizza, a local chain that is also Memorial Stadium's official pizza vendor. Early arrivers can get a special treat courtesy of restaurant owner Jeff Roberts.
"The only place you can get one of his breakfast pizzas is at our tailgate," says Mueller.
To partake in all this gameday gluttony, there are some rules, beginning with "Introduce yourself to Brian." There is also: "Brian is always right" (this rule is repeated twice), "Anything worth doing is worth overdoing," "No whining or grumpiness" and "Always have fun."
"Brian's Rules" are posted within a tented lounge area thanks to Mueller's fiancee, Angie Mettlen.
"If it were up to Brian, it would just be a table and throwing some stuff out," says Mettlen.
But the hoopla is a treasured tradition, and the result speaks for themselves.
"We have people from multiple generations coming in from multiple locations, as far away as Germany and as nearby as Pendleton," says Mueller. "They show up, some stay out here (during the games) and hopefully have a good time."
Together in a divided house
In South Carolina, the line between orange and garnet often runs right through the middle of a family. Nobody knows this better than the Sox family of Lexington.
Marvin Sox, who serves on Mid-Carolina Electric Cooperative's Board of Trustees, and his wife, Renee, both went to the University of South Carolina. With their four sons, they were a garnet and black family, holding season tickets and tailgating since the late 1970s.
Then one son became the orange sheep.
Like his brothers, Kevin Sox loved the Gamecocks. Then, he fell in love with agriculture through a program at Lexington Technology Center. When it came time for college, Clemson University's agriculture education program was the clear choice. He met his wife, Stephanie, there and gradually made the conversion to Tiger fan.
"It was not the easiest thing for my father," says Kevin, who now teaches agricultural sciences at the Center for Advanced Technical Studies in Chapin. "In fact, he might have worn some University of South Carolina undergarments at my graduation."
Today, Brad—the oldest Sox brother—holds down the South Carolina side, while Kevin and Stephanie anchor the Clemson camp at the family tailgates. When the Palmetto Bowl rolls around each November, they bring both sides together under one tent, a divided Clemson-Carolina flag and a pirate flag. (Why a pirate flag? It's sort of the family crest, no other reason.)
"We keep football out of it," says Kevin. "It's more about being together and less about the rivalry."
"It just gives us another thing to do as a family," says Brad. "We enjoy being together."
Bragging rights might be ignored, but the food is not. Kevin's signature dish for early games is "funky grits"—cheese grits loaded with sausage, onions and peppers. For afternoon or evening kickoffs, a "touchdown taco dip" is offered. After the game, there is a chicken bog inspired by Marvin's recipe from his Scoutmaster days.
And even when the Tigers win, Brad can still claim a victory.
"In (Kevin's) tailgate area, they have a competition with the other nearby tailgaters," says Brad. "Not to brag, but we've had people say the bog is the best."
Living the dash
At last year's Palmetto Bowl, Fulmer's tailgate wasn't in full "ultimate" mode at his spot across from J's Corner Restaurant & Bar near Williams-Brice Stadium. However, he did have a microphone and speaker set up to amplify a little friendly trash-talking toward anyone wearing orange who happened to be traveling up Bluff Road toward the stadium.
Still, he claims he doesn't get quite as worked up over wins and losses as he once did.
"I've got a lot more important things in life," Fulmer says. "But I still love it. You get to watch college football, hang out with family. What can be better than that?"
Fulmer references a poem former Gamecock coach Lou Holtz used to recite, "The Dash," about how what matters in life isn't the dates on your tombstone, but everything represented by the dash in between.
"That's kind of me when I think about tailgating," he says. "I'm living my dash."