Bert Kreischer delivered what might be his greatest performance ever—and it wasn’t even at one of his sold-out comedy shows.
Before Florida State University’s season opener against Alabama, legendary partier-turned-comedy superstar took center stage at Doak Campbell Stadium.
What happened next was pure magic—fueled by passion, nostalgia, and yes, plenty of alcohol.
His speech fired up 90,000 fans and helped FSU demolish favored Alabama 31-17 in a game that wasn’t nearly as close as that score suggests.
From Party Legend to Comedy Icon
Kreischer was famous at FSU long before standup made him a household name. Rolling Stone immortalized him in 1997 as “the top partyer at the Number One Party School in the country.”
That reputation follows him today—in best way possible. His nickname “The Machine” reflects his legendary status, and he’s turned that larger-than-life persona into arena-filling comedy shows, Netflix specials, and now a sitcom.
His “Permission To Party Tour” hits venues normally reserved for rock concerts, proving comedy can command same massive audiences as music superstars.
The Speech That Brought Down the House
FSU reached out to Kreischer three weeks before game day, requesting a brief pump-up speech. He expected to deliver 15 to 30 seconds of material.
What they got was entirely different.
At 10 a.m. we’re drunk, game’s at 1, and I say to Tom, I don’t know what to say. And Tom looks at me and he goes, you are the best at firing people up. He goes, just don’t plan it. Speak from your heart. Don’t talk at them, talk to them.
Comedian Tom Segura’s advice proved golden. Kreischer hit field with no prepared remarks, no script, and no idea his words would appear on massive stadium screens.
I had no idea it was going to be in front of 90,000 people. I had no idea it was going to be on the big screen. I didn’t know what was happening. They just gave me the mic, and I rattled off what I think is one of the best speeches that’s ever come out of my mouth.
A Speech Soaked in Garnet and Gold
His words resonated deep with Seminole faithful:
This is the house that Bobby Bowden built. Alabama thinks they are going to roll all over us. This is how I was baptized, in that end zone when they had wooden bleachers. When that spear went into that Seminole head, I cried tears that were garnet and gold.
The crowd erupted. FSU dominated. Kreischer created his favorite memory of his alma mater.
Evolution of a Storyteller
Unlike many comedians who write traditional jokes, Kreischer identifies as a storyteller first. His current tour showcases his evolution as performer willing to take creative risks.
I rewatched the movie “Memento” and I thought what a cool way to tell a story? And why am I not doing that in standup?
He’s experimenting with narrative structure, planting seeds early in shows and harvesting them later. Stories weave throughout entire performances rather than standing alone as isolated bits.
This approach creates layered experiences for audiences, transforming standup into something more cinematic.
Character-Driven Comedy
Kreischer pushes himself beyond simple setups. He tells stories through character perspectives, creating richer, more immersive comedy.
- Thematic consistency: Multiple storylines connect throughout shows
- Narrative arcs: Traditional story structure with compelling endings
- Character development: Stories told through eyes of different people
- Standalone moments: Self-contained bits that still fit overall theme
From Rolling Stone to Netflix Empire
When Rolling Stone profiled Kreischer in 1997, most people—including Kreischer himself—doubted he’d succeed in “the real world.”
I think I proved myself wrong. I was on the same page as you. I was like, what the f—‘s gonna happen to this kid? I mean, naturally everyone had to think that.
Two people saw potential others missed. One of his father’s attorney friends called immediately after Rolling Stone piece published, urging him toward show business.
You’re gonna regret it if you don’t strike right now. You need to move to New York. You need to get into standup comedy. You need to go hang out in the comedy clubs. This is your opportunity.
His father’s uncle delivered similar advice over dinner in Naples, insisting comedy was his destiny.
“Free Bert” Brings Creative Control
Kreischer’s new Netflix sitcom “Free Bert,” debuting January 22, represents creative freedom he rarely experienced in television.
“Free Bert” was very loose. I would sit with the writers, and I would go through the scripts line by line and put it more in my voice or punch it up differently or add jokes.
He worked collaboratively with writers, adding personal touches and taking bold creative swings. Stories he shared during production became major plot lines.
The fish-out-of-water sitcom centers on parent struggling to fit in at his daughter’s school—classic premise elevated by Kreischer’s authentic voice.
Roots of Master Storyteller
Kreischer’s father, an attorney, surrounded himself with older Italian and Cuban lawyers who captivated audiences with their stories.
You know, mostly the attorneys my dad hung out with all like old Italian, old Cuban guys and I remember the smell of cigars so thick in this office off Bird Street in Tampa.
Those men demonstrated how to hold rooms. Young Kreischer absorbed their techniques, watching how they kept listeners on edge of seats.
All-boys Catholic high school refined these skills further. Without girls present, humor became currency.
If you couldn’t make a table of guys laugh, then you had no reason to be sitting at that table — at lunch, you were sitting at a different table. Yeah, I mean, I’m really a byproduct of Florida.
The Price of Being “That Guy”
Kreischer learned important lesson from negative early encounter with Kiss legend Gene Simmons. He vowed never to disappoint fans, even when it costs him personally.
I will never ruin the idea of Bert for anyone, no matter what it takes.
This commitment sometimes conflicts with family time. He recalls moment at Park City ski resort when his daughter struggled learning to snowboard.
Mid-conversation, fan interrupted for photo. Kreischer immediately shifted focus from crying daughter to enthusiastic fan.
And then I get back to her and she’s looking at me going, “Do you always have to be that guy?” And I was like, “Yeah, kinda.”
That honesty—about both his commitment to fans and personal cost—exemplifies why audiences connect with him. He’s relatable because he’s flawed, not despite it.
Kreischer remains shirtless comedy animal, the Iggy Pop of standup, signifying his IDGAF attitude while mining life experiences for comedy gold that keeps audiences roaring from Huntsville to Dothan and beyond.