Littlejohn Coliseum needed more Lil Jon and other notes from KSR's terrible trip to Clemson

We should’ve known we were doomed when our first gas station stop had poop stains on the walls with an empty Mega Lollies box on the cracked sink — although the festive Christmas decor on the toilet lid was a nice touch. On our way out, Steven Peake was given a nice thumbs down by an ambulance driver for accidentally failing to yield getting back on the highway.

“It was very confusing,” KSR‘s video extraordinaire said as he missed his third exit of the trip. “My butt is going to work tomorrow, and I’m going to try and be motivated as hell to get this thing fixed and get better.”

That was in Tennessee, still two states and a couple hundred miles from our final destination of Clemson. It was just the start of what would be a terrible 24 hours for the two of us and the Kentucky Wildcats, who earned their first loss under Mark Pope in a good old fashioned slobberknocker. It sucked, but that was only 40 minutes of suck. There was plenty more to go around, namely the ridiculous journey between Knoxville and Asheville with random stretches in the mountains of windy single-lane roads and no sign of civilization. There was one period where we listened to the sound of the wind for half an hour, not even an attempt at cell service. We were grateful for one single FM radio station broadcasting NPR to pop up right before Hot Springs — shoutout 91.9 WUOT.

It wasn’t too eventful from Asheville down to Clemson. If anything, we were pretty happy to see the area’s progress following the recent floods earlier in the year. Check-in at the Comfort Inn and Suites was smooth-sailing, too, getting there in plenty of time to knock out some pregame work and grab a bite to eat before heading over to Littlejohn Coliseum.

That’s where we hit our next speed bump, one that truly blows my mind even as I write this now. We found some local food establishments relatively close to the venue with good reviews and settled on a wing joint we’ll leave nameless. It was loosely busy — plenty of people, but open tables and folks waiting to be seated. We popped over to the bar hoping to get in and out, only to watch the employees and managers walk past us over and over without acknowledging our existence, clearly panicked about the moderate traffic in the restaurant. After waiting it out a good 15 minutes, we asked the kind folks at the host stand about the inactivity and were told their liquor license had been yanked earlier in the day and couldn’t serve food or drink at the bar until further notice. Convenient!

No big deal, nothing wrong with a quick pivot. We had a backup plan anyway, another wing spot with good reviews within walking distance. Somewhat crunched for time now, but we’d make it work. Popping over, there was plenty of space and once again sat down at the bar where the manager informed us they were short-staffed after sending someone home a few hours before expecting a slow night. Right then, a flood of fans showed up just as you’d expect them to do leading up to a high-profile basketball game a half-mile away.

Absolutely clueless about the game, no idea the No. 4 team in the country was in town or why a sea of orange and blue was overtaking the restaurant. Panic. Stress. Frustration. All of it. How do you own a sports bar just outside of campus and find yourselves overwhelmed by a local sporting event? It was pretty fascinating, honestly. Not sure how sustainable that business model is, but whatever works for them.

We finally got through our okayest meal of the trip and made our way to the arena. The attendants gave us directly contrasting information on media parking — one wanted us to make a loop around the entire venue before we settled in right next to the building. As for getting in that building, that was unnecessarily difficult. For whatever reason, there were two media entrances with the credential pick-up separated for writers and photographers/videographers. One was on one side of the building, the other was in the bus loading dock around the way — again, in the dark and freezing cold. When realizing that mistake going from one to the other, Peake dropped his tripod down the stairs, shattering it into a million pieces while also cracking his GoPro.

Then comes the interior, writers sent to the crow’s nest better known as press row while the photographers and videographers are limited to the floor. Specific instructions to separate the two with no overlap or re-entry allowed — Peake couldn’t come see me and I couldn’t come see him, for example. Also, an overly complicated wifi password as if the juggernaut known as Clemson basketball needs one? Petty, I know, but there was a ton of over-seriousness that made every little nitpicky detail a little more frustrating. A strict two credentials per outlet maximum, doors don’t open until 90 minutes before tip-off, kicked out exactly one hour after the last word is spoken at the press conferences, etc.

One Elite Eight run and you forget where you came from as a football school.

As for the facilities, the media workroom was a closet with no outlets, so Peake had to rig a battery charger behind the Kentucky bench literally on the hardwood floor to get his video equipment to work and usable for postgame interviews. Then the press conference room was microscopic in its own right, Mark Pope having to step over people with his freakishly long legs like an adult trying to avoid stepping on legos in a kid playroom.

Worst of all? No Lil Jon. How can you name your arena after the king of getting low, snapping fingers and turning down for what, then refuse to bring him in with a top-five team in town? That’s why Lilwayne Arena will forever be superior.

(Yes, I know Littlejohn and Lil Jon are different things. No, I’m not apologizing for making the corny early-00s rap joke.)

Look, it was fine. The students were rowdy and the remaining casual fans pretended to care in the key moments, leading to some loud swings the stripes fell for like clockwork. Not bad, but nothing special. We’ve seen worse, but we’ve also seen better. They also let BBN in with pockets of blue scattered throughout the venue and letting the home fans hear about it. We even got a couple early Go Big Blue chants, if that tells you anything. Automatic point deduction for Littlejohn Coliseum there.

The people there were nice — although Peake caught a random forearm to the chest during the court-storming by a non-security Clemson official. No word yet on if he’ll be pressing charges.

All in all, it was one of those trips that would have been remembered quite fondly leaving with a win, happy to cancel out all of the absurdity with the celebration of beating a tournament team in the first true road test. The loss, though, magnified the inconveniences and dumb things like a poop-stained bathroom with an empty Mega Lollies box and Christmas decor.

Exactly what the event coordinators dreamed of when the SEC/ACC Challenge was created, I’m sure.