only those who have spent time with Doug allowed

[kcsu]

This thread is not about anything other than your opinion of Doug as a person. You have to have spent time with him. Not second hand but actual time with him. Nothing about him as a coach just him as a person.

My two cents is that he is actually a good person who is very insecure and tries to mask his insecurity by being stand offish and a bit of a bully. In short his being a bit of an a hole is how he protects himself. Would like to know how he was raised.

 

[SWC75]

I'm not saying calling into his show each week qualified but I will throw this into the mix. When he first got here in 2009-2010 he was so excited about getting a head coaching job he loved talking about every aspect of it, even things like what happens if a player need sot go to the bathroom during a game. He was friendly, good humored and out-going.

In 2011, his answers got terse and even robotic. When he came here it was his "dream job". I think it may have been. But now he's a hired gun. I think his dream job turned out to be a good deal less than that and the result was changed personality.

 

[OttoinGrotto]

Back in aught 2 Douglas and I enjoyed some bologna sandwiches and gatorade together at a party on one of the decks at the PlayBoy mansion. As the California sun set we made the Syracuse connection and got off to what I believed would be a wonderful friendship. Everything was going swimmingly as we discussed just how great Coach Mac was, when a crew of the bunnies emerged from the grotto with ice cream carts in tow. Miss March asked me if I was enjoying my evening, and after I replied that I was, offered to make my evening just a little bit sweeter by inviting me to stick my hand in the ice cream cart and see what surprise I could find (that's not a euphemism, by the way).

I did, and was delighted to find when my hand emerged that I had grasped a Dove bar, only the most decadent treat in single packaged freezer ice cream. Friends, Douglas had an enormous smile on his face when he saw my Dove bar, and without awaiting invitation from the lovely Miss March, thrust both of his hands in to the ice cream cart (still not a euphemism, ya pervs).

First Douglas's left hand emerged with a Scooter crunch, and his brow furrowed ever so slightly. Then his right arm emerged with an ice cream delicacy fashioned in the shape of a ninja turtle. His lip betrayed the slightest twitch. His left arm thrust itself again into the cart, and this time returned with an ice cream Snickers bar. Sweat beaded itself upon his brow, and I began to feel the slightest tremor emanating from his person. His right arm lanced into the cart, and came back with a Bomb pop.

Friends, I am distressed to recount that at this very moment Douglas began keening, the likes of which I had only encountered during trips to the Burnett park zoo as a lad when encountering monkey defecation warfare. His eyes bloodshot, Douglas leapt head first into the cart, startling the pulchritudinous Miss March, who ran away in terror.

It was at this time that I had realized my reptilian brain had guided my hand to unwrap the Dove bar, lead it to my mouth, and commanded my mouth to begin nibbling upon the chocolate-toffee shell in order to reveal the ice cream beneath.

Enjoying the pleasant flavours of the confection before me, and reflecting upon the good fortune of my evening engaged in new friendship with Douglas, making plans for a weekend night on the town with Miss March (oh, did I forget to mention that? A story for another time, perhaps...), and the mastication of the culinary delight gifted to me, I became unsettled as I noticed Douglas's eyes moving from my hand, to the Dove bar, then to my mouth, and back to the Dove bar, and to my hand, and then the dove bar, and to my mouth, and back to the Dove bar, and then the spot of ice cream that had landed on my shirt, and then back to the Dove bar.

Our eyes then met, and friends, I swear it to you from the deepest depths of my soul, I knew in that moment that Douglas and I were not friends, nor would ever be, and as he cast a gaze upon me filled with the burning hatred of a thousand suns, a look I now recognize during Douglas's press conferences with select members of the media, he told me that it was my last day on earth.

Now, the astute reader will have realized that I stand here today, alive and typing on this very message board, for the benefit of this very Syracuse fan community, and I wish to make it clear - it was NOT my last day on earth. Douglas began snorting and pacing, and as he was about to charge I calmly instructed Douglas to wait. Confused, he asked me why. I told him he had a decision to make, because he was down a touchdown with no timeouts with 3 minutes to go in the 4th quarter, and it was fourth and one on the opponent's 40 yard line.

Douglas entered a zombie like trance, picked up the ice cream cart, and punted it across the mansion grounds. It landed among several party goers that had engaged in an impromptu volleyball game, injuring Miss September of the previous year, and Kid Rock.

Luckily by this time I had finished the Dove bar, and discreetly exposed of the wrapper and stick. Douglas seemed to emerge from a haze, unaware of who he was, where he was, and best yet, who I was. As he blinked his eyes in an attempt to get his bearings, I said "Hey man, there's a half-eaten bologna sandwich over there. Is it yours? The bunnies are trying to clean up but I wanted to make sure they didn't toss your sandwich."

Douglas then patted me on the shoulder, thanked me for having his back, and began walking towards the volleyball courts to see what all the commotion was about over there.

So, given my personal experience - I don't trust the man, and I question his decisions on 4th down.

 

[ImperialOrange]

Back in aught 2 Douglas and I enjoyed some bologna sandwiches and gatorade together at a party on one of the decks at the PlayBoy mansion. As the California sun set we made the Syracuse connection and got off to what I believed would be a wonderful friendship. Everything was going swimmingly as we discussed just how great Coach Mac was, when a crew of the bunnies emerged from the grotto with ice cream carts in tow. Miss March asked me if I was enjoying my evening, and after I replied that I was, offered to make my evening just a little bit sweeter by inviting me to stick my hand in the ice cream cart and see what surprise I could find (that's not a euphemism, by the way).

I did, and was delighted to find when my hand emerged that I had grasped a Dove bar, only the most decadent treat in single packaged freezer ice cream. Friends, Douglas had an enormous smile on his face when he saw my Dove bar, and without awaiting invitation from the lovely Miss March, thrust both of his hands in to the ice cream cart (still not a euphemism, ya pervs).

First Douglas's left hand emerged with a Scooter crunch, and his brow furrowed ever so slightly. Then his right arm emerged with an ice cream delicacy fashioned in the shape of a ninja turtle. His lip betrayed the slightest twitch. His left arm thrust itself again into the cart, and this time returned with an ice cream Snickers bar. Sweat beaded itself upon his brow, and I began to feel the slightest tremor emanating from his person. His right arm lanced into the cart, and came back with a Bomb pop.

Friends, I am distressed to recount that at this very moment Douglas began keening, the likes of which I had only encountered during trips to the Burnett park zoo as a lad when encountering monkey defecation warfare. His eyes bloodshot, Douglas leapt head first into the cart, startling the pulchritudinous Miss March, who ran away in terror.

It was at this time that I had realized my reptilian brain had guided my hand to unwrap the Dove bar, lead it to my mouth, and commanded my mouth to begin nibbling upon the chocolate-toffee shell in order to reveal the ice cream beneath.

Enjoying the pleasant flavours of the confection before me, and reflecting upon the good fortune of my evening engaged in new friendship with Douglas, making plans for a weekend night on the town with Miss March (oh, did I forget to mention that? A story for another time, perhaps...), and the mastication of the culinary delight gifted to me, I became unsettled as I noticed Douglas's eyes moving from my hand, to the Dove bar, then to my mouth, and back to the Dove bar, and to my hand, and then the dove bar, and to my mouth, and back to the Dove bar, and then the spot of ice cream that had landed on my shirt, and then back to the Dove bar.

Our eyes then met, and friends, I swear it to you from the deepest depths of my soul, I knew in that moment that Douglas and I were not friends, nor would ever be, and as he cast a gaze upon me filled with the burning hatred of a thousand suns, a look I now recognize during Douglas's press conferences with select members of the media, he told me that it was my last day on earth.

Now, the astute reader will have realized that I stand here today, alive and typing on this very message board, for the benefit of this very Syracuse fan community, and I wish to make it clear - it was NOT my last day on earth. Douglas began snorting and pacing, and as he was about to charge I calmly instructed Douglas to wait. Confused, he asked me why. I told him he had a decision to make, because he was down a touchdown with no timeouts with 3 minutes to go in the 4th quarter, and it was fourth and one on the opponent's 40 yard line.

Douglas entered a zombie like trance, picked up the ice cream cart, and punted it across the mansion grounds. It landed among several party goers that had engaged in an impromptu volleyball game, injuring Miss September of the previous year, and Kid Rock.

Luckily by this time I had finished the Dove bar, and discreetly exposed of the wrapper and stick. Douglas seemed to emerge from a haze, unaware of who he was, where he was, and best yet, who I was. As he blinked his eyes in an attempt to get his bearings, I said "Hey man, there's a half-eaten bologna sandwich over there. Is it yours? The bunnies are trying to clean up but I wanted to make sure they didn't toss your sandwich."

Douglas then patted me on the shoulder, thanked me for having his back, and began walking towards the volleyball courts to see what all the commotion was about over there.

So, given my personal experience - I don't trust the man, and I question his decisions on 4th down.

The part about punting when there were seemingly better options makes this oddly believable.

 

[Toga]

Back in aught 2 Douglas and I enjoyed some bologna sandwiches and gatorade together at a party on one of the decks at the PlayBoy mansion. As the California sun set we made the Syracuse connection and got off to what I believed would be a wonderful friendship. Everything was going swimmingly as we discussed just how great Coach Mac was, when a crew of the bunnies emerged from the grotto with ice cream carts in tow. Miss March asked me if I was enjoying my evening, and after I replied that I was, offered to make my evening just a little bit sweeter by inviting me to stick my hand in the ice cream cart and see what surprise I could find (that's not a euphemism, by the way).

I did, and was delighted to find when my hand emerged that I had grasped a Dove bar, only the most decadent treat in single packaged freezer ice cream. Friends, Douglas had an enormous smile on his face when he saw my Dove bar, and without awaiting invitation from the lovely Miss March, thrust both of his hands in to the ice cream cart (still not a euphemism, ya pervs).

First Douglas's left hand emerged with a Scooter crunch, and his brow furrowed ever so slightly. Then his right arm emerged with an ice cream delicacy fashioned in the shape of a ninja turtle. His lip betrayed the slightest twitch. His left arm thrust itself again into the cart, and this time returned with an ice cream Snickers bar. Sweat beaded itself upon his brow, and I began to feel the slightest tremor emanating from his person. His right arm lanced into the cart, and came back with a Bomb pop.

Friends, I am distressed to recount that at this very moment Douglas began keening, the likes of which I had only encountered during trips to the Burnett park zoo as a lad when encountering monkey defecation warfare. His eyes bloodshot, Douglas leapt head first into the cart, startling the pulchritudinous Miss March, who ran away in terror.

It was at this time that I had realized my reptilian brain had guided my hand to unwrap the Dove bar, lead it to my mouth, and commanded my mouth to begin nibbling upon the chocolate-toffee shell in order to reveal the ice cream beneath.

Enjoying the pleasant flavours of the confection before me, and reflecting upon the good fortune of my evening engaged in new friendship with Douglas, making plans for a weekend night on the town with Miss March (oh, did I forget to mention that? A story for another time, perhaps...), and the mastication of the culinary delight gifted to me, I became unsettled as I noticed Douglas's eyes moving from my hand, to the Dove bar, then to my mouth, and back to the Dove bar, and to my hand, and then the dove bar, and to my mouth, and back to the Dove bar, and then the spot of ice cream that had landed on my shirt, and then back to the Dove bar.

Our eyes then met, and friends, I swear it to you from the deepest depths of my soul, I knew in that moment that Douglas and I were not friends, nor would ever be, and as he cast a gaze upon me filled with the burning hatred of a thousand suns, a look I now recognize during Douglas's press conferences with select members of the media, he told me that it was my last day on earth.

Now, the astute reader will have realized that I stand here today, alive and typing on this very message board, for the benefit of this very Syracuse fan community, and I wish to make it clear - it was NOT my last day on earth. Douglas began snorting and pacing, and as he was about to charge I calmly instructed Douglas to wait. Confused, he asked me why. I told him he had a decision to make, because he was down a touchdown with no timeouts with 3 minutes to go in the 4th quarter, and it was fourth and one on the opponent's 40 yard line.

Douglas entered a zombie like trance, picked up the ice cream cart, and punted it across the mansion grounds. It landed among several party goers that had engaged in an impromptu volleyball game, injuring Miss September of the previous year, and Kid Rock.

Luckily by this time I had finished the Dove bar, and discreetly exposed of the wrapper and stick. Douglas seemed to emerge from a haze, unaware of who he was, where he was, and best yet, who I was. As he blinked his eyes in an attempt to get his bearings, I said "Hey man, there's a half-eaten bologna sandwich over there. Is it yours? The bunnies are trying to clean up but I wanted to make sure they didn't toss your sandwich."

Douglas then patted me on the shoulder, thanked me for having his back, and began walking towards the volleyball courts to see what all the commotion was about over there.

So, given my personal experience - I don't trust the man, and I question his decisions on 4th down.

 

[Shenexon]

Back in aught 2 Douglas and I enjoyed some bologna sandwiches and gatorade together at a party on one of the decks at the PlayBoy mansion. As the California sun set we made the Syracuse connection and got off to what I believed would be a wonderful friendship. Everything was going swimmingly as we discussed just how great Coach Mac was, when a crew of the bunnies emerged from the grotto with ice cream carts in tow. Miss March asked me if I was enjoying my evening, and after I replied that I was, offered to make my evening just a little bit sweeter by inviting me to stick my hand in the ice cream cart and see what surprise I could find (that's not a euphemism, by the way).

I did, and was delighted to find when my hand emerged that I had grasped a Dove bar, only the most decadent treat in single packaged freezer ice cream. Friends, Douglas had an enormous smile on his face when he saw my Dove bar, and without awaiting invitation from the lovely Miss March, thrust both of his hands in to the ice cream cart (still not a euphemism, ya pervs).

First Douglas's left hand emerged with a Scooter crunch, and his brow furrowed ever so slightly. Then his right arm emerged with an ice cream delicacy fashioned in the shape of a ninja turtle. His lip betrayed the slightest twitch. His left arm thrust itself again into the cart, and this time returned with an ice cream Snickers bar. Sweat beaded itself upon his brow, and I began to feel the slightest tremor emanating from his person. His right arm lanced into the cart, and came back with a Bomb pop.

Friends, I am distressed to recount that at this very moment Douglas began keening, the likes of which I had only encountered during trips to the Burnett park zoo as a lad when encountering monkey defecation warfare. His eyes bloodshot, Douglas leapt head first into the cart, startling the pulchritudinous Miss March, who ran away in terror.

It was at this time that I had realized my reptilian brain had guided my hand to unwrap the Dove bar, lead it to my mouth, and commanded my mouth to begin nibbling upon the chocolate-toffee shell in order to reveal the ice cream beneath.

Enjoying the pleasant flavours of the confection before me, and reflecting upon the good fortune of my evening engaged in new friendship with Douglas, making plans for a weekend night on the town with Miss March (oh, did I forget to mention that? A story for another time, perhaps...), and the mastication of the culinary delight gifted to me, I became unsettled as I noticed Douglas's eyes moving from my hand, to the Dove bar, then to my mouth, and back to the Dove bar, and to my hand, and then the dove bar, and to my mouth, and back to the Dove bar, and then the spot of ice cream that had landed on my shirt, and then back to the Dove bar.

Our eyes then met, and friends, I swear it to you from the deepest depths of my soul, I knew in that moment that Douglas and I were not friends, nor would ever be, and as he cast a gaze upon me filled with the burning hatred of a thousand suns, a look I now recognize during Douglas's press conferences with select members of the media, he told me that it was my last day on earth.

Now, the astute reader will have realized that I stand here today, alive and typing on this very message board, for the benefit of this very Syracuse fan community, and I wish to make it clear - it was NOT my last day on earth. Douglas began snorting and pacing, and as he was about to charge I calmly instructed Douglas to wait. Confused, he asked me why. I told him he had a decision to make, because he was down a touchdown with no timeouts with 3 minutes to go in the 4th quarter, and it was fourth and one on the opponent's 40 yard line.

Douglas entered a zombie like trance, picked up the ice cream cart, and punted it across the mansion grounds. It landed among several party goers that had engaged in an impromptu volleyball game, injuring Miss September of the previous year, and Kid Rock.

Luckily by this time I had finished the Dove bar, and discreetly exposed of the wrapper and stick. Douglas seemed to emerge from a haze, unaware of who he was, where he was, and best yet, who I was. As he blinked his eyes in an attempt to get his bearings, I said "Hey man, there's a half-eaten bologna sandwich over there. Is it yours? The bunnies are trying to clean up but I wanted to make sure they didn't toss your sandwich."

Douglas then patted me on the shoulder, thanked me for having his back, and began walking towards the volleyball courts to see what all the commotion was about over there.

So, given my personal experience - I don't trust the man, and I question his decisions on 4th down.

Wow...your experience certainly was memorable. Mine pales in comparison. On the nite before the Tulane game at the Superdome, I was strolling Bourbon St watching my drunk friend directing traffic and wandered into a bar, when who do I see but Doug drinking a beer at the bar. I sat down next to him and asked to buy him another round. He sat and chatted football with me for 20 minutes or so and was nothing but nice to me. I found him genuine and excited about the program. Perhaps he just wanted the free beer, but prefer to think he really enjoyed kicking back with a random SU fan off the street in New Orleans. I eventually had to leave to save my friend from being arrested, then ran into Floyd Little who chatted with me for a bit as well. Doug may be a pain in the butt to work with, but I really enjoyed our brief encounter.

 

[sabach]

I do not want to even pretend to "know" Doug Marrone. However, I did meet with him and talk to him at a little league softball game our daughters were playing against each other. I know he tried to come to as many softball games as he could. He could not have been nicer. We talked about the upcoming season and how two Friday night games were helpful to me because I could go see SU and still see my kid play Pop Warner on Saturday. In that isolated incident of time, Doug Marrone was as nice of a head coach as he could be and thanked me for supporting the program. This is similar to how Scott Shafer has been in the limited times I have met him. He may not have been easy to work with, but he was great with me.

 

[dasher]

I do not want to even pretend to "know" Doug Marrone. However, I did meet with him and talk to him at a little league softball game our daughters were playing against each other. I know he tried to come to as many softball games as he could. He could not have been nicer. We talked about the upcoming season and how two Friday night games were helpful to me because I could go see SU and still see my kid play Pop Warner on Saturday. In that isolated incident of time, Doug Marrone was as nice of a head coach as he could be and thanked me for supporting the program. This is similar to how Scott Shafer has been in the limited times I have met him. He may not have been easy to work with, but he was great with me.

I met John Calipari in hawaii after UMass beat us in the finals of the tournament there. He couldn't have been nicer either. Small samples aren't really useful in judging people. One way or the other.

 

[Lawrinson14]

My time on the hill actually coincided with the first few years of Marrone's tenure as SU head coach. And since my roommate/best friend worked for the AD department while we were students, I actually did get to meet Coach Marrone on multiple occasions. Instead of going into detail about those, I think the following story describes the type of person he is.

Coincidentally, the first time I met Coach Marrone was not on campus. I actually saw him at Key Bank (saw Coach Boeheim there numerous times as well). This was just after his rousing, jacket-hurling speech that he gave at the SU basketball game.

Ignoring my deposit for the moment, I went up to him and told him that I thought his speech was great. His exact response was "Oh yeah? You liked that?" He then asked me what I thought of the SU football program. I told that I didn't really follow college football before attending college, but that SU had been absolutely dismal during my years at SU.

I kid you not, he then went into a semi-fit of rage ((like red face and all, yes I was shocked) saying how he was "disgusted" by the way his alma mater had taken a noise dive. And how he would do everything in his power to bring it back.

I thought to myself, "wow, this guy is great!" (I imagine this is what he is like in interviews).

He then asked me if I wanted to know how he would bring SU football back. Of course I said that I wanted to know. His response..."that'll be Tree Fiddy". It was then that I noticed that this was not the new SU football coach, Doug Marrone. This was a 9ft left over from the Paleozoic Era. This was that damn Loch Ness Monster.

 

[Full_Rebar]

I'm not saying calling into his show each week qualified but I will throw this into the mix. When he first got here in 2009-2010 he was so excited about getting a head coaching job he loved talking about every aspect of it, even things like what happens if a player need sot go to the bathroom during a game. He was friendly, good humored and out-going.

In 2011, his answers got terse and even robotic. When he came here it was his "dream job". I think it may have been. But now he's a hired gun. I think his dream job turned out to be a good deal less than that and the result was changed personality.

I would say something very similar. Whatever happened during his tenure changed him for good in terms of his views of people outside of his circle. I think he came to Syracuse expecting to be like Coach Mac, but found out that cfb now is just a slightly less profitable version of the NFL.

I try to remember Doug as the guy as he was when he first started.

 

[kuethstheman]

I spoke with him briefly his first year when he ran the Boilermaker road race in Utica, at the finish line. Took a picture with me. He seemed eager to talk to me and like he would have talked as long as I wanted to and answer any question. He had people waiting for him so I was the one who eventually let him go to do whatever he was supposed to be doing.

 

[OrangeXtreme]

I was among a handful of people who attended all of his open Spring Practices at the Manley complex. The very first open practice was March 2009, and the weather was downright miserable (wind, bitter cold, horizontal snow, cats and dogs living together, etc...) By the end of practice there were maybe 5-6 of us left in attendance (myself, Orangeyes, Lurker John, GoSU, DCCuse, and maybe BlackKnight). Marrone made it a point to come over and thank each of us for supporting the program. Meanwhile, Gross never even acknowledged us, let alone offer each of us a cup of hot coffee .

For the teams' last practice in April 2011, Marrone invited all of us onto the practice field and let us stand with the media. Well, everyone but DCCuse ... he was late. It was a nice touch, especially since he closed next year's practices to the public.

 

[Millhouse]

I met John Calipari in hawaii after UMass beat us in the finals of the tournament there. He couldn't have been nicer either. Small samples aren't really useful in judging people. One way or the other.

i can't not tell this story even though it's been told a million times here

i met bob huggins at woody's (a. it's not what you think, chip and b. it's closed anyway) in rochester on a wednesday night circa 2000. he was red and bloated with a viscous sheen. i told him what a big fan of dermarr johnson i was (fan of johnson, yeah yeah) and he summoned the verbal skills to bark out "tequila" when I asked him what shot he wanted. so Bob, myself, and some husky swinger looking blonde hag who was holding him up presumably until they got back to the motel 6 did shots.

big enough sample

 

[Scooch]

i can't not tell this story even though it's been told a million times here

i met bob huggins at woody's (a. it's not what you think, chip and b. it's closed anyway) in rochester on a wednesday night circa 2000. he was red and bloated with a viscous sheen. i told him what a big fan of dermarr johnson i was (fan of johnson, yeah yeah) and he summoned the verbal skills to bark out "tequila" when I asked him what shot he wanted. so Bob, myself, and some husky swinger looking blonde hag who was holding him up presumably until they got back to the motel 6 did shots.

big enough sample

Can we just turn this into the "Times I Drank With Celebrities Thread"? The original premise is goofy and that would be much more interesting.

 

[Chip]

Yeah, I met Saint Doug Marrone once, in 1962 in Memphis, Tennessee. I was walking down the street minding my own business, just walking on. Feeling good. I walk around the corner, a man walk up, hit me in my chest, right. I fall on the ground, right. And I look up and it's Saint Doug Marrone. I said 'Saint Doug?' and he said 'Ooops, I thought you were some body else.'

 

[Scooch]

Did I ever tell you guys about the time Marrone showed up at my daughter's wedding? You know my daughter, she's a beautiful girl. Well, Marrone shows up and you know he's a big fella. Well, he's standing right between me and my daughter at the ceremony. He's got no right to be there, but he's drunk and he's Marrone. Well, long story short, the priest accidentally marries me and Marrone. We spend the weekend in the Poconos — he loved me like I've never been loved before.

 

[Scooch]

I remember one time Marrone took his family to Sea World. They were watching Shamu the whale when Marrone got splashed. So Marrone yells, 'I'm Doug Marrone and no one gets me wet!' So he climbs into the tank, grabs Shamu, and throws the whale into the audience, splashes him and yells, 'How do you like it?' And then damn if Marrone didn't step in there and finish the show."

 

[Scooch]

Did I ever tell you about the time Marrone took me out to go get a drink with him? We go off looking for a bar and we can't find one. Finally, Marrone takes me into a vacant lot and says, 'Here we are.' Well, we sat there for a year and a half. Sure enough, someone constructed a bar around us. Well, the day they opened it, we ordered a shot, drank it, and then burnt the place to the ground. marrone yelled over the roar of the flames, 'Always leave things the way you found them!'

 

[Scooch]

Did I ever tell you about the time I went horseback riding with Marrone, but there weren't any horses around? Well, Marrone throws a saddle on my back and rides me around Wyoming for three days. Well, wouldn't you know it, my stamina increases with each day and I develop tremendous leg muscles. So anyway, Marrone decides to enter me in the Breeders' Cup, right, under the name Turkish Delight. And I'm running in second place, and I'm running and I break my ankle! They’re about to shoot me. Then someone from the crowd yells out, God bless him, 'Don't shoot him, he's a human.'"

 

[Scooch]

Did I ever tell you about the time Marrone was in a production of 'The King and I'? On opening night, Marrone chloroformed the entire cast and slowly eats them in front of the audience for two hours. The production got pretty good reviews.

 

[SUFaninNJ]

Can we just turn this into the "Times I Drank With Celebrities Thread"? The original premise is goofy and that would be much more interesting.

I have a story about Dan Ackroyd clearing the House of Blues in Atlanta after calling me a "drunk a$$hole". Does that count?

 

[SUFaninNJ]

I spoke with him briefly his first year when he ran the Boilermaker road race in Utica, at the finish line. Took a picture with me. He seemed eager to talk to me and like he would have talked as long as I wanted to and answer any question. He had people waiting for him so I was the one who eventually let him go to do whatever he was supposed to be doing.

He only ran the 5K so it doesn't count! I hauled my carcass the whole 15K that year to earn my free beer and to listen to Nik and the Nice Guys!

 

[llandz]

I actually spent a couple of hours with Doug Marrone in Los Angeles when he came out to do a meet and greet with the LA club at the ESPN zone. It was the same day that Greg Paulus announced that he was coming to SU to use his last year of eligibility as a QB on our football team.

I can't tell you enough how impressed I was with Doug. I also had met Greg Robinson when he came to our holiday party in Northern NJ. While Greg was very nice, Doug was different. He was enthused about what he was about to embark on. You can't fake this type of enthusiasm. He was very open about what he planned to do with the program. He was very casually dressed in sweat pants, and we sat around in a circle while he told us that he was going to make football a fun game to watch at SU, and how he envisioned the program. He was very open, warm and patiently answered everyone's questions. He made you feel that he could sit there and chat all day with you. He also made you feel that we were all on the same level. Greg on the other hand was just nice, but you did not feel like you could really approach him in the same way you could Doug.

I have no idea what happened to change Doug. I believe he felt this was his dream job, and it was for a long haul. He certainly bled Orange.

I know a lot of you are not going to believe or like what I am saying. But it is how it was at the beginning. Something changed, something happened on the hill that turned him. I still want to believe he is the guy I met that day. I understand the concept of taking your opportunities when they come. You never know what tomorrow brings.

 

[Shenexon]

I met Jim Boeheim exactly once. It was in the late 70s or early 80s in an Italian restaurant along Erie Blvd. or Genesee St east of downtown. I was eating with some folks after a football game and passed Boeheim coming in. He was with one very tall young man and two others that could have been his parents. It was awkward for him and memorable for me, with me being very excited to have a moment with him and him trying to spend quality time with a recruit and his parents.

 

[JrodCuse]

My time on the hill actually coincided with the first few years of Marrone's tenure as SU head coach. And since my roommate/best friend worked for the AD department while we were students, I actually did get to meet Coach Marrone on multiple occasions. Instead of going into detail about those, I think the following story describes the type of person he is.

Coincidentally, the first time I met Coach Marrone was not on campus. I actually saw him at Key Bank (saw Coach Boeheim there numerous times as well). This was just after his rousing, jacket-hurling speech that he gave at the SU basketball game.

Ignoring my deposit for the moment, I went up to him and told him that I thought his speech was great. His exact response was "Oh yeah? You liked that?" He then asked me what I thought of the SU football program. I told that I didn't really follow college football before attending college, but that SU had been absolutely dismal during my years at SU.

I kid you not, he then went into a semi-fit of rage ((like red face and all, yes I was shocked) saying how he was "disgusted" by the way his alma mater had taken a noise dive. And how he would do everything in his power to bring it back.

I thought to myself, "wow, this guy is great!" (I imagine this is what he is like in interviews).

He then asked me if I wanted to know how he would bring SU football back. Of course I said that I wanted to know. His response..."that'll be Tree Fiddy". It was then that I noticed that this was not the new SU football coach, Doug Marrone. This was a 9ft left over from the Paleozoic Era. This was that damn Loch Ness Monster.

You gave that goddang lochness monster tree fiddy?!