verdugo288

There isn’t really anything you can call us here at Verdugo that would surprise us.  It’s a common line coming from a former Verdugo player or coach to be quoted as saying “I’ve been called worse!”  We didn’t care what anybody called us.  And if we did we’d never acknowledge.  As long as you never called us COLLECT….we were pretty much cool with it.

The way we saw it was like this….it was a badge of honor.  With all the labels and names our opponents gave us we must have been doing something right.

This is the kind of shit that happens when you STRIKE the kind of fear into an opponent that Verdugo did.

But the key to Verdugo was all of the INTERNAL name-calling.  It’s just how we roll at Verdugo.  Thank God there were games to be played so we could direct our trash-talking skills at someone other than OURSELVES.  You teams around the League think we were rough on you?  Jeez, give me a break. 

Plus, it was a badge of honor to be ragged on by our own guys.  It really meant they liked you.   At least it meant that INTERNALLY.  If it was directed at someone wearing a non-Verdugo uniform….well, that’s a different story.  Some of the greatest rags we had were directed at each other.  Guys always trying to outdo one another in the art of war (or “the art of one-upsmanship” as I like to call it).  I would have paid admission to hear the shit our guys said to each other during our pre-game ritual “Flip.”  It wasn’t pretty my friends.  But it was….a bunch of guys who had known each other forever ragging on each other because they actually LIKED each other.

It’s just how we roll at Verdugo.  Personally, I’m from Texas.  I was born in Dallas.  When a Texan calls you a “son-of-a-bitch”….that means he really likes you!  Being called a “Bastard” is even better.  I still have friends from Texas to this very day who say “How you doing you mother-fucker?” every time they hear my voice on the other end of the phone.  I think even “Seinfeld” had an episode that was about the very thing I’m talkin’ ’bout here.

Like today for instance.  I got a text message from Dan Bir.  I had left a voicemail with Bir-Dawg the night before the airing of the Verdugo Highlight Tape.  Amazingly….I didn’t hear back from him.  I didn’t feel “shunned” or anything like that.  Bir-Dawg will call when he can, that much I knew.  Look at how Bir-Dawg expressed his LOVE for Verdugo on this text message he sent me today!

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                 “GHEEEE, you fucker, just got back into civilization and got your message!!  Fuck I can’t wait to see you pricks!”

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Now that’s what I call LOVE!!!!

It’s the only way we at Verdugo know how to express it.  It’s just….how we roll at Verdugo.  We truly are a family.  We talk to each other like that because we REMEMBER the way we gave it up on the field for each other.  There was no Commander-in-Chief at Verdugo.  As far as I was concerned, we were all standing in the same foxhole!!  EVERYTHING was like a god damn WAR to us!  And when we weren’t fighting with the opposition, we were fighting amongst ourselves.  But the fighting we did amongst ourselves was done in a humorous way….because we either LIKED one another, or because we were willing to PUT UP with one another.

But make no mistake about this:  As soon as the Umpire said “Play Ball” we knew exactly who to direct our rage at.  All the internal bickering came to a screeching halt (at least until we got about halfway to the parking lot after we won again).  And no one….I repeat….NO ONE could get inside the heads of an opponent the way Verdugo could.  EVER.

Yes-sir-ree….Fuckers, Sons-of-Bitches, Bastards, and Pricks.  That’s what we WERE, that’s what we ARE, and that’s what we will ALWAYS BE here at VERDUGO!!!!

Thanks Bir Dawg for the love today….you god-damn son-of-a-bitch!!!!  I can’t wait to see you either!!!!

Ahhhh Verdugo!!!!