It was a hot day in 1991 when we were playing Granada Hills out at their yard. I wasn’t in a real good mood that day. First of all we ended up getting beat 5-4. Secondly, we left 17 men on base that day. That’s right………17 men!! It seemed like that was the story of the ’91 team. The first two guys of every inning would go down and then we’d start a fucking two-out rally. Add that to the fact that we didn’t have a whole hell of a lot of speed on that team and it kind of ties your hands. We still had a great season. We went 13-9 and if we had swept a double-header on the last day of the season we would have won the Division Title and reached the playoffs.
Hank and BullOxen had their usual game of between-inning hockey going on. Hank would don the fungo, his first baseman’s glove, a catcher’s mask and get into a goalie-like position in front of the dugout opening. When the between-inning warm-ups were complete, our first baseman would try to fire a short-hop past Hank. Today it was BullOxen playing first base for us. They kept score like it was a frickin’ hockey game. Hank gave it up to block anything. He didn’t care if it hit him in the face or whatever…and if he got hit he pretended it didn’t hurt (Verdugo-style). It was entertaining to watch. But the way we were playing this day, nothing was very entertaining to me.
Around the seventh inning I was sitting in our dugout on the first base side looking at something in the scorebook or something. All of a sudden I HEARD…that’s right I HEARD a ball sizzle by my face…you know that fzzzzzzzing sound you hear…missing my nose by about an inch. The ball rattled around the inside of the dugout. Guys were running for cover. It hit at least one guy. You think that got my attention? Helllllllll yes it did!!! So I look up to see who the hell did that and there’s BullOxen and the rest of the team on the field celebrating that they had scored a goal on Hank. Bull was out there laughing…he was looking at the shortstop and celebrating. Without missing a beat I reached straight down to our ball bag that was conveniently located right next to my right foot and from a sitting position FIRED a ball as hard as I could at “Ol Bull out there who was laughing his ass off about 75 feet away. And it hit him RIGHT IN THE ASS!!!!!!
That’s right…..drilled him. He looked into the dugout at me but he couldn’t get too pissed about it. He knew he had it coming. And totally Verdugo-style…he pretended it didn’t hurt. Some people in the stands were laughing about it, saying “Nice shot Gee”……
Still, that throw was a pretty stupid thing of me to do………..
Someone said “were you trying to hit him in the ass with that throw?”
“Absolutely” I said. Lying through my teeth.
We all had a good laugh about that one (well, except for maybe Bull) and I must admit I got lucky with that shot. I could have injured my own player pretty bad with that throw. But the Gods were always looking over us at Verdugo…and thank God Bull’s goal on Hank didn’t leave stitch marks on my face…..and thank God my throw only hit him in the ass.
Bull told me a few days later……”Gee that throw left a mark…..you nailed me good.”………..and he was laughing about it.
All I can say is we had the greatest kids any coach could ever hope to have on his team. Do you think I stopped all future between-inning hockey games after that? Hell, no. Part of my pre-game ritual from that game forward was to find out what part of the dugout was “the net” and I positioned myself at the other end. Between-inning hockey became a great tradition for Verdugo, and it was fun to watch………FROM THE OTHER END OF THE DUGOUT. There was another game they brilliantly invented which I will be telling you about soon……….probably in the next post………a little game they liked to call “FLIP.”
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