Gus McMurray

Christian, husband, dad, CPA, University of Alabama ('02) & University of Virginia ('03) alumnus.

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@ChildersRadio just catching up on today's episode... I just knew you were a #friendofaccountants! @whitewatertax #taxtwitter #potterhead

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@FreddyLA7 You’re gonna want to follow that same route you took thru the southeast for college football.

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

In America they told me the football game starts at 1 PM.

I arrived at 1 PM.
I was five hours late.
The parking lot was already a city.

A man had built a living room beside his truck. Not metaphorically. He had a couch. A television. A chandelier powered by a generator the size of a small horse.

He was grilling enough meat to feed a village, and when I walked past he said, "You hungry?"

I said I had not been invited.

He looked at me the way you look at someone who has apologized for breathing.

"Brother," he said. "You're here. That's the invitation."

He handed me a plate. It was not a small plate. The brisket hung over the edges like a man sleeping in a bed he has outgrown.

I ate it standing beside a stranger's couch in a parking lot in October, and it was among the finest meals of my life.

A woman across the row had a tent, a smoker, a speaker system, and a flag so large it could have sheltered a family of five beneath it.

She had been here since 6 AM.

The game had not started.

The game, I began to realize, was not the point.

I asked the man what time he would go inside the stadium.

He said, "Depends."

I asked on what.

He said, "On whether the ribs are done."

I want to be clear. He had a ticket. He had driven four hours. He had assembled a small civilization from the back of a pickup truck.

And he was considering not going to the game.

Because the ribs were not ready.

In Japan we tailgate nothing. We do not build living rooms in parking lots. We do not grill for strangers.

We sit quietly on trains and think about whether we remembered to bow at the right angle.

I have since attended eleven tailgates.

I have never once cared who won the game.

Nobody has.

The game is inside the stadium.

America is in the parking lot.

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

Somewhere in America, a movie theater. The boy at the concession counter asked me a question about architecture, and called it butter.

"You want that layered?"

Layered. I looked at the popcorn. I looked at him.

"Explain."

"Instead of all the butter on top, I do butter, popcorn, butter, popcorn." He mimed the strata with a flat hand. He had explained this before. He would explain it again. A craftsman, patient with the public.

I was not prepared. In my land, what is given is given; you do not direct the distribution of a blessing. Here, the boy stood ready to construct my popcorn in courses, like a stone wall — foundation, mortar, foundation, mortar — so that no kernel, however deep, would live unblessed.

"The ones at the bottom," I said slowly, "are usually…"

"Dry. Yeah. Not on my watch."

NOT ON MY WATCH. The oath of a sentry, sworn over popcorn. This is who they have guarding the snacks.

"Then layer it," I commanded, "as your conscience demands."

He built it like a man who would be judged by it. Pour, pump, rotate. Pour, pump, rotate. Four stories. A tower of equal blessings.

The film was fine. I do not remember it. What I remember is the eightieth minute, deep in the bucket, past the depth where popcorn hope usually dies — and finding the kernels there as golden as the first.

The bottom of the bucket. As rich as the top. I confess I held one kernel up in the dark and simply looked at it.

Butter on top blesses the surface. Butter in layers blesses the whole nation.

I tipped the boy on the way out. He had already forgotten me. The best masons forget the wall, and begin the next one.

Layered. Always layered. Some words you only need to learn once.

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

In America, a warehouse store. A fully roasted chicken costs five dollars, the raw chicken beside it costs seven, and I stood between them like a man between two truths.

Golden. Hot. Seasoned. Spinning in glory under the lights, in a line of its brothers. Four dollars and ninety-nine cents.

I checked the raw birds. Seven dollars. Pale. Cold. You must do everything yourself.

This is not commerce. Commerce does not move backward. Somewhere in this building, mathematics lies defeated.

I asked the man at the counter. "How is the cooked bird cheaper than the raw bird?"

"Been five bucks forever. They keep it that way."

"But the store loses."

"Yep. On purpose."

On purpose. I held my receipt with both hands.

In my land, a lord who lowered the price of rice in a hard winter was remembered for generations. They built him a small shrine. This store does it every day, with chicken, and tells no one.

A woman behind me grew tired of my reverence. "It's just a chicken, sir."

It is not just a chicken. It is a wound the merchant takes on purpose, so that anyone, on any day, with five dollars, eats like a lord. The bird is the message. The price is the vow.

I will confess: I bought two. I did not need two. The second was not hunger. It was gratitude, and it was delicious.

Some prices are not prices. They are promises.

I return every week now. I take one bird. I bow toward the deli, briefly, so as not to alarm the staff. They have begun nodding back.

The vow holds. The bird turns. Five dollars.

Long may it spin.

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

USA. A Mexican restaurant. We had not yet ordered anything, and the food was already arriving.

Chips. Salsa. Unrequested. Free.

I stopped the waiter. "We have not earned these."

"They just come with the table, man."

They come with the TABLE. In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation, weighed carefully, returned in the proper season with interest of feeling. Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.

This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you. Eat.

I ate with the gravity the moment deserved. And then — I must report this calmly — the basket emptied, and a new one appeared.

"Did we…?"

"Refill," the waiter said. "It's bottomless."

Bottomless. They have wells of salsa. The supply lines of this nation are beyond anything my ancestors imagined.

My friend warned me. "Don't fill up on chips, dude."

Too late. I had accepted three baskets. Honor demanded each one be finished — an unfinished gift is an insult. By the time my actual food arrived, I was a ruined man.

I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a courtesy.

Generosity that arrives before the request cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.

I know the rule now. I have made my peace with the basket. One basket. Two at the most.

Who am I deceiving. There is no number of baskets I would refuse. The trust of a nation is in that salsa, and I intend to honor all of it.

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@TheoFernandez__ @WVUA23Sports

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@ChrisJoneso7y 100% understand. Feel like the @AHSAAUpdates did a huge disservice to the 🏈 teams at @Glenwoodgators and @LeeScottAcademy.
We had a great game at Wadley this year. The tiny town of Wadley showed us a great time… and promptly gave us a sound beating. 🐊

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@VladValasiuk

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@RosieLangello

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@coach_smith11

[AHSAA TV Network @ahsaatvnetwork]

AHSAA Private Double A Reclassification

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@AmazonHelp I just had a terrible customer experience with an order.

What happened?

I ordered a particular Dewalt cord/cordless fan. Cost is ~$160. I received a Dewalt cordless fan. Cost is $100. My recourse? Refund and reorder. No overnight shipping, no compensation. No

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@colemarkk @VernFunquist Just like we all know that if Williams and Metchie were healthy for the rematch, Bama wins that one. How soon we forget…

[Ryan McGee @ESPNMcGee]

Filed to ESPN: “When people listen, they expect to hear Eli Gold.” The amazing comeback of Alabama's radio voice. https://t.co/6N1JDRSgSB

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@MontanaFouts First time unanimous winner??

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

@madams3196 This is why we love college 🏈

[Gus McMurray @uauva]

Anybody know why the field in the @CottonBowlGame looks like it was cooked on a grill? Y’all gotta fix that before the @rosebowlgame #RTR