For decades, it was widely accepted that Clemson Athletics began with the founding of the football team in 1896, seven years after the University was established. However, a recent archaeological discovery proves otherwise.
Amelia Spade, a local construction surveyor and part-time archaeologist, found what she believes to be lost athletic records from the early years of Clemson at the site of the future campus medical center.
Spade sent the artifact to the Department of Historic Properties and published a scanned copy of the documents online, allowing Clemson sports fans to learn about their long-forgotten athletes.
Earnest Toutchdowne, Ph.D., 1890-1897
Toutchdowne, ironically, was the first football star for the Tigers.
The sport had never seen a man as physically imposing as when the 5-foot-7, 173-pound surgeon donned the Clemson brown and dark brown — those were the colors back then.
He used his intimate knowledge of human anatomy to both deliver punishing hits as a linebacker and throw the ball farther than any quarterback could.
Toutchdowne had his best game as a Tiger in 1894 against the Carolina School of Mines, throwing for 43 yards and logging one interception on the defensive end, leading the team to a hard-fought tie, 0-0.
Unfortunately, Toutchdowne suffered a career-ending knee injury in July of 1896, months before the official football team began play. He had to amputate his right leg due to a septic infection.
Toutchdowne still had a very successful medical career as the “Peg Leg Pediatrician” of the Carolinas.
John William Morris IV, 1892-93
Morris was a young, bright-eyed soccer player who pioneered student athletics. He emigrated from England in 1890 with the sole intention of playing in America. After bouncing from state to state, Morris fell in love with Clemson and enrolled in the spring of 1892.
He ran circles around everyone on the field. Morris scored eight goals in his first three games in the fall of 1893, leading Clemson to a 2-0-1 record. However, he couldn’t keep up in the classroom.
During an agriculture class fieldwork day, Morris caused a massive sinkhole in a freak accident. After the school moved tons of dirt to fill the hole, the University expelled Morris.
Little is known about what became of Morris after his expulsion, but rumors credit his sinkhole as the namesake for Death Valley.
Howard Byrne, 1893-97
Byrne, better known as “The Strongman of the South,” was the most illustrious shot-putter south of the Mason-Dixon Line during the 1890s.
His secret? Byrne tossed the same stone at every competition dating back to his childhood. Competitors complained that Byrne had worn the rock down so much that it fit his hand perfectly and unfairly flew through the air.
Byrne was inspired to represent his country after the shot put debuted at the 1896 Olympics. He intended to do so after his graduation from the following Games.
During his final event as a Tiger, Byrne threw his stone so far that spectators say it flew into the woods, beyond the maximum marked distance of 15 meters.
Byrne was crowned the competition champion, but he could not find his stone after the ceremony despite an obsessive, thorough search of the area. He retired from shot put one week later and withdrew from the public eye.
No investigation explored the disappearance of Byrne’s stone, but many speculated about its fate; some say another shot-putter stole it, others say it never landed.
One thing is for certain: Howard’s rock was never found.
This satirical article is part of The Tiger’s April Fool’s edition, The Kitten. This story was written for comedic purposes and has no verifiable truth to it.
