Archive for the ‘1990’ Category

19 years Later……..

Posted: February 28, 2011 in 1990, Behind the Scenes, Hank
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Some of you know I’m a Golf Pro now.  I turned Pro on April the 21st, 2009 at the ripe-old age of 49.  I had to take a 36-hole test with the PGA of America called the PAT (Playing Ability Test).  I took it up in San Jose.  The Test has about an 80% failure rate…so passing that test on my first try was a big thrill for me.  Still, I make my money working at a Law Firm during the week.  I’m like a really, really part-time Golf Pro now. 

So I was out at Hansen Dam one day during the week in July of ’09.  I like to go out as a single and play with whoever.  It doesn’t matter much to me who I end up playing with.  I just love The Game of Golf.  You run into all kinds of interesting folks out there, and this day was no exception.

I was paired with an OLD guy about 60 years old and a younger guy around 35-40.  I say the guy around 60 was OLD because I’m now 50…..(in fact 51 here in just a few days) and I’m always now looking to call someone else OLD so I feel a bit younger.  Anyways, they were nice guys and we were having a good time out there.

The younger kid was just flat-out BOMBING the ball.  I mean, this guy could hit it!  He didn’t have much of a short game but I was cracking up at how far he could hit a golf ball.  The second hole was a LONG par five and his second shot went OVER the green!  Damn..I’m thinking.  But that’s what I love about Golf.  I don’t ever get into this thing where I’m playing AGAINST someone in the group…I just play against the course.  The course gives me plenty to handle. 

Then around the third hole I was thinking that this kid that was bombing the hell out of the ball looked REALLY familiar.  He had already told me his first name.  I kept thinking “who is this guy?”….it was driving me crazy!

Then after my approach shot on the fourth hole I figured it out.  It’s MILLIGAN!!!  I couldn’t stop laughing to myself.  The guy Hank had slap-tagged the shit out of 19 years ago!!  It brought back so many great memories.  So what should I do?  Should I tell him who I was?  Should I dare mention the name Verdugo to the guy?  What if he went ballistic and clubbed me to death with a nine-iron?  This made it even more interesting…and I still couldn’t stop laughing to myself…at least when I had a chance.  I certainly didn’t want him putting me on the spot and saying…”okay…what’s so funny?”  So I had to be cool when I was laughing/smiling and thinking of ‘Ol Hank’s slap tags.

Finally, on the sixth hole…(another long par five) I decided to say something.  I said “Hey, is your last name MILLIGAN?”

“Yeah” he said.  “How did you know that?”

“I used to coach a little baseball a few years ago and I remember you.”  I said.

“What team did you coach?” he asked.

I just kind of smiled and said to him “Does the name Verdugo Hills mean anything to you?”

He looked at the ground.  He was searching his memory bank.  He looked back at me.  Then he looked back at the ground.  Then his face started to kind of contort a little bit.  He got a big frown on his face.  He looked back at me.  I thought he was going to kill me.

“You guys had that fucking first baseman who wore the goggles and his jersey number was zero.” he said.

“Oh fuck”…he said.  “what a fucking rivalry we had.” 

He went on.  “It took everything we had in us to not brawl you guys that day.  We were SO close to brawling you guys.”

Over the next 12 holes we talked about everything.  Hank.  Jody.  American Legion.  And yes, even the slap-tagging incident.  It was 19 years later, probably almost to the day.  He said something very cool.  He said “we hated you guys, but we respected you.” 

I spent an afternoon with Milligan on the Golf Course.  It was a great day.  I realized that bad blood and bad feelings don’t have to last.  We had a great time.  And you know what?  Milligan would have fit right in with our Program as well.  He was and IS a good guy.  He turned out well.  Other than wearing a different uniform than we wore and playing for Jody….he was just like the rest of us.  I have to say…I liked him.

Still….you know ‘Ol Milligan and I were doing a “little” scorekeeping of our own that day on the course.  Even though we were getting along and exchanging pleasantries…it was STILL  (in our minds) VERDUGO against Notre Dame.  And I shot a 73 that afternoon and beat him by about 10 shots………………

Slap Taggin’ Milligan

Posted: February 28, 2011 in 1990, Games, Hank
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This is a continuation of our last two posts.  Yeah, Notre Dame beat us up pretty good in the second game of the double-header that day, but like I said we STOLE a game from them.  Even though we got beat…we still got in a few shots Verdugo-style.  And we got our shots in on the big-gun cleanup hitter they had with the last name Milligan.

Milligan looked like what you’d expect a guy named Milligan to look like.  Fair skinned, reddish hair.  But he was a stout dude and he was strong.  He had big forearms and with his hat on kind of reminded me of Popeye.  He had that step haircut thing going on.  Nobody gave this guy any shit I noticed…and he didn’t have much of a sense of humor.  He came from a Baseball family.  He was pretty much all business out there on the field and I must admit he did hit the shit out of the ball.

He reached base on a fielder’s choice in the second inning.  This is when the fun began.  

Milligan was getting a little too big of a lead off of first base.  So we picked over.  Hank was playing first base.  He took the throw from the pitcher and made a sweeping slap-tag that caught the diving Milligan right in his face.  Milligan’s helmet was all out of whack from the impact.  It was down over his eyes when he got up and he tried to look cool while he readjusted it.  He wasn’t looking too cool, either.

So he then got off of the bag and took an even bigger leadoff.  So we picked over again.  Hank did the exact same thing.  Sweeping slap tag to his head…making sure that the ball was in the not-so-padded area of his glove.  Hank was making sure that when he slap-tagged him that the BALL was involved with that slap-tag as well as his glove.  The second one caught him in the nose/cheekbone area.  Milligan was NOT happy.

So he got an even bigger lead….

And we picked over again.  Hank slapped him real good in the face again.  Now Milligan was flat-out pissed.

As he was taking his lead off of the bag you could hear him say in a gravelly voice “You slap-tag me again like that and I’m gonna rip your head off.”

Then he got an even BIGGER lead.

So we picked over.  And Hank slapped-tagged him again…harder than the first three.  This went on another couple of times.  Each time Milligan getting slap-tagged harder than the last, and Milligan insisting on taking a bigger lead-off from the bag.  Hank never even made an effort to tag his arm or hand!  Every time, right in the head/face!!  Milligan finally realized after about five slap-tags to his dome that it might be a good idea to STOP taking such a big lead.  Hell, this guy could hit but he wasn’t any threat to steal a base.  Milligan finally backed down and took a normal lead-off from the bag and all the bullshit ended.

The beautiful thing about all of this was that Hank was slap-tagging a pretty big dude.  If they went at it…I’m sure most people would have put their money on Milligan.   Hank never said a word to the guy.  He just kept slap-tagging him as hard as he could until he backed off.  And if they did go at it, I’m sure Hank would have more than stood his ground.  This was just a little old-fashioned power-struggle that was going on between Milligan and Hank.  And I gotta give the “W” to Hank.  Milligan warned him..but Hank came right back and slap-tagged him again….TWICE!!!

Yes-sir-ree.  ‘Ol Hank.  The heart and soul of that 1990 Team.  His jersey number was “00.”  “Double-Ott” we called him.  And while we lost ONE of the battles that day, we WON the other battle…but the slap-tagging incident was the ‘tie-breaker.”  And the way we served notice on Milligan…Verdugo had CLEARLY won the war that day!!!!!!!!

The Double That Shook The Earth…..

Posted: February 27, 2011 in 1990, BullOxen, Frost, Games, Hank, McBride, Rogers, Weapon
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It was June 27, 1990.  We traveled out to Notre Dame high school on a Wednesday afternoon to pick up where we had left off three weeks earlier, bad blood and all.  The game we had started three weeks ago was tied 3-3, and called off due to darkness.  So the plan today was to finish the first game, and then play another seven inning game before it got dark.  So it was “Kind of” a doubleheader.  In the back of our minds we were all thinking about what went down between Fat Jody and McBride.  I am sure that all of the parents of both teams had heard about the drama….because by the time we got this thing started, the stands were FULL on both sides of the diamond.  It had the atmosphere of a playoff game.  So I was looking forward to see how we handled the spotlight that day.

We had played well over the last few weeks since McBride went off on Jody and came into the game with a 6-5 record.  All I knew was we needed to win ONE of these games…I didn’t want to drive home with a 6-7 record if they swept us.  So this was another huge game for us.

Finally, the game started.  Both teams went quietly in the eighth inning.  And I don’t even have to tell you who was pitching for us……….. 

Weapon came up in the top of the ninth inning and grounded out.  Up came Bull Oxen.  Walk.  Up came Hank.  Walk.  Rogers flew out to the center.  Two down.

Cal Frost stepped up.  Frost looked at strike one.  The next pitch he drilled a two-iron over the shortstop’s head and up the left-center gap.  I knew Bull would score from second but I wanted to make sure Hank got in from first.  And Hank was all over it.  Hank was moving so fast he almost caught up to Bull.  I was halfway down the line windmilling when I realized there wasn’t even going to be a play at the plate.  Frost’s double had cleared the bases and given us a 5-3 lead.

When Hank stepped on the plate he damn near split it in half.  I don’t think I had ever seen Hank this fired up and emotional as he got.  And no one…and I mean NO ONE wants to win more than Hank.  When Hank scored he continued to sprint towards the chain link fence on the first base side.  He leaped in the air about three feet and his momentum carried him right into the fence, where he clung to it…Spiderman-style.

As he was up in the air, clinging to that fence,  he started shaking it with his hands and feet.  He made sure every single person in the Notre Dame stands was watching him while he shook the fence and yelled out “Fuck Yeah!!!!!!” for about 10 seconds.  They were shocked!  Every mouth in that stands dropped about a foot!  And ‘Ol Hank was up there giving it to ’em….I think he made eye-contact with every last one of ’em!!!

Our dugout and fans were making a lot of noise.  Their side was silent.  Normally, an outburst like that was crazy…..the outcome of the game had not yet been determined…..and we STILL needed three outs to win…..but that’s what we all were FEELING at that moment.  So I let ’em go.  I didn’t say anything.  I just squinted my eyes and looked straight at Fat Jody.  He looked away when he caught my squinting eyes………..

Then I looked around for McBride.  He was sitting down and just STARING at the field.  Yeah, he had that look in his eye.  I knew he was gonna finish ’em off.

But Hank wasn’t done.  When Hank came down from the fence….he started yelling “Fuck Yeah!!!  That’s 7-5, now let’s make it 8-5 in another 10 minutes!!!”

He was predicting the WIN!!!   We still needed three outs but Hank had just moved us up in the standings from 6-5 to 7-5..and was even talking about 8-5!!!

I loved it!!  Mcbride’s outburst three weeks earlier had pulled us together.  And Hank took us out on a limb.  And we were about to find out if we could trash talk and back it up. 

McBride was a little too pumped and walked their leadoff hitter in the bottom of the ninth.  The next hitter laced a single to left, but the runner who moved to second on the base-hit took too big of a turn towards third.  Damon Martin, our left fielder…fired the ball to the cutoff man Frost, and Frosty back-picked to second where BullOxen made a great play tagging out the runner.  That broke their backs.  And Hank was over there at first base (right in front of their dugout) barking “Fuck Yeah!!” again.

The next hitter popped out.  One out to go.

McBride was totally pumped!  He was overthrowing.  He walked their cleanup hitter on four pitches.  Turner went out to the mound and calmed him down.

Runners at first and second…two out.  And McBride STRIKES OUT their other big gun Lou Tapia LOOKING!!!!

Done!  We walked the Walk!!  No crazy celebration when it ended.  Yeah, David had kind of beaten Goliath but I liked the way we handled ourselves when it ended.  You could sense that our guys were figuring out just what we were capable of.  And we proved we could play with anybody that day.  And yeah…as Hank predicted….we were now 7-5. 

We had woken up a sleeping giant with that win.  Notre Dame had a lot of talent on that team and they beat our asses pretty good the second game that day.  But it didn’t matter.  We STOLE a game from them with nothing more than will, resolve, grit, and determination.  

And you know what’s really cool?  Notre Dame missed the Playoffs that year by ONE GAME.

You think ‘Ol Fat Jody spent a little time over the winter thinking about THIS ONE????????? 

Yes-sir-ree….’Ol Cal Frost’s double……..The Double that SHOOK THE EARTH.  The Double that was one of the greatest DEFINING  moments of our four years of Glory.  The Rock in our sling that SLAYED Goliath……….

McBride FIRES Back!!!!!!!!!!!

Posted: February 27, 2011 in 1990, Games, McBride, Rags/Trash Talk
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Some of you guys remember Brian McBride.  He played one year for us…on our 1990 team.  He led the team in wins that season with four and innings pitched with 39.  He was a good kid.  Never complained about anything.  In fact..when we had two guys on our roster who wanted to wear number 14 on their jersey…McBride let the other guy ( a guy we called “White” Chandler) wear it and Brian wore jersey number 14 and a half!!!  He was funny, well-mannered and a hard worker.  He had already played for a Colt-League team for me in 1989 (a team that came within a dropped fly-ball of winning it all) and I never saw him lose his cool.  That is, until our first meeting with our old friend……..FAT JODY.  Thanks to McBride and a couple of other guys…..one of the greatest Legion rivalries of all-time was born.

This was a huge game for us.  We came into the game 1-2, and were blown out of our previous game 13-2.  We needed a win, and with our rag-tag group of guys going up against the mighty Notre Dame squad I would venture to say we were the underdogs going into this one.  Hank started on the mound and gave us a great five innings…although we trailed 2-0 when he left. 

In the top of the sixth, we rolled a three to take the lead.  This game was turning into quite a chessmatch between Jody and I.  They’d steal, and we’d pitchout.  We’d steal, and they’d pitchout.  Both teams were bunting, trying to move guys over, and playing for a run.  Great calls by both coaches in first and third situations.  It was taxing, but fun.  A couple of times ‘Ol Jody looked over at our bench with that look of his that said…”Oh shit.”  Yeah, he was worried.

I was happy with the way we were playing.  The game was scheduled to go seven innings but darkness was setting in.  McBride came in to relieve Hank in the bottom of the sixth.  He shut them off.  We didn’t score in the top of the seventh.  All we needed was three outs for the upset.  They scored on a passed ball in the bottom of the seventh to force the game into extra innings.

It looked like there was enough light to start the eighth inning.  As Brian walked from the mound towards our dugout after Notre Dame had scored and tied the game he walked right past fat Jody, who was doing his little dorky jog back to the first base dugout.  That was when McBride exploded.

“Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth you fat piece of shit!!!!!!!!!!!” he screamed.  McBride then took his glove and threw it about 20 feet into our dugout. 

Jody stopped near home plate and looked at him as if to say “Who me?”

We had all figured it out by now, and Jody was BUSTED.  He was talking to my pitcher when my pitcher was making his way back to the dugout.  This shit had been going on for a couple of innings, and McBride put him in his place. 

By now Mcbride was in our dugout kicking shit around, waving his arms, and screaming at Fat Jody.  “What the fuck is your problem you fucking Bush-leaguer?”

The umpire came over.  I just kind of sat there and watched everything that was happening.  This was between McBride and Jody, as far as I was concerned.  And the more information I gathered, it became clear Jody was out-of-line.  McBride was yelling at the ump about whatever Jody had been saying to him and let the ump know he didn’t like it.  The ump just kind of looked at Jody like “Are you doing this shit?”

Look…I coached alot of years and I said plenty of shit on my own….but I never got “weird” like that and singled a guy out like Jody was doing.  At least everything I said was there for EVERYONE to hear…not some weird kind of “stalker” conversation between me and another guy that nobody else knew about.   What Jody was doing was just flat-out WEIRD.

Jody never said another word in his defense.  He knew he was busted.  The game was called on account of darkness and the outcome of the game was going to be decided in three weeks when we were scheduled to play them again.  We all left the field PISSED!!!  I was proud of McBride.  It was nice to see how underneath all of his pleasant demeanor there was a FIERCE competitor. 

The next three weeks before we played those guys again it seemed like that was all we talked about.  Those were the guys our Team wanted to beat.  McBride’s outburst lit a fire for our ballclub that still burns to this very day.  We never let anyone say ANYTHING to us after that single event.  McBride set the tone, and I’ll bet to this very day ‘Ol Jody wishes he never said a word to that kid. 

1990 was one of our finest hours as a Team.  We played all 22 games ON THE ROAD that season.  And we still finished 12-10.  We lost one game in extra innings, and three games by a run.  One team that went 15-7 reached the playoffs.  That’s how close we came.  Yes, we did a lot of damage in ’92 and ’93….going 38-5…but that 1990 Team may have been the greatest Team I ever coached.  That was the Team that basically sent this message to everyone:  If you’re playing Verdugo, then get ready for the dogfight of your life!!!

I believe that this was the turning point in the season for us.  And we couldn’t wait to finish the game against Notre Dame in three weeks.  We didn’t care about their players…it was all about beating Fat Jody from that point forward. 

The next post is going to be fun…I already have the Title for it……I’m going to call it “‘The Double That Shook The Earth”……………

Short Porch in Right

Posted: February 20, 2011 in 1990, Games, Hank, Vic, Weapon
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One of the greatest players we ever had was Vic Ramirez.  Vic played for us in our first season in 1990.  Vic was a lefty, ran like a demon, had a great arm, and hit the shit out of the ball.  Vic had graduated from C.V in 1989 and was still eligible for one more season of Legion ball.  He had just played an entire season at Glendale College and started every game and did a great job for them as their lead-off hitter.  Vic wanted to play for the Glendale Legion team that season…but thanks to some great selling by Hank, Weapon, and BullOxen we ultimately ended up with “C’mon Vic” (as we nicknamed him) on our roster. 

One of our games in 1990 was at Chaminade High.  When we first got to the field everyone was eyeing their right field fence.  It was only 240 feet from home plate, but it had a net that acted as a “fence” that went straight UP about 70 feet in the air.  Vic was our only left handed hitter on the team.  The first guy I looked at when we all saw that fence was Vic.  He was drooling.  You knew what was going on inside his head………

“Don’t even think about it” I said.

Vic smiled and said “Don’t worry Gee….nothing but two irons today.”

We were having problems with some of our hitters….alot of guys were dropping their hands when the pitch was on the way and trying to jack the ball over the fence or everyone’s heads………and it wasn’t working.  This is where the term “two irons” came around.  If you’ve ever hit a perfect shot in Golf with a two iron you know what I’m talking about.  A two iron is a low, penetrating shot that goes a LONG way.  I kept telling the hitters that year…”let’s go…lots of two irons today.”

I still knew what he was thinking.  And if I was in his shoes I knew what I would be thinking.  That short porch in right field was a little too tempting…..

And sure enough…the first pitch of the game….Vic drops his hands and tries to jack it over that fence.  He golfed a high towering routine fly ball.  The ball went 241 feet for a home run.  Everybody came out of the dugout laughing.  In fact…everyone was laughing EXCEPT for GEE.  When he came around third with his homerun trot I didn’t even high-five him.  Everybody was out at the plate congratulating Vic but Hank and Weap were looking over at me and giggling because they knew I was pissed.  I was just down there shaking my head but the players still knew I was happy we had a 1-0 lead.  I tried to act pissed but it wasn’t working.

One thing about Vic…he was a great kid.  He came up to me the next inning and said “sorry Gee….just two irons from now on.”

So his next at-bat he laces a two-iron right into the net in right field.  The right fielder knew just how to play it and damn near threw Vic out at first.  Time to re-think my little scheme…………

Next time before Vic came up I called him over and said “All right…you get a hall pass for the day….just golf it over the fucking fence.”  All I know is that this game had quickly turned into a shootout and we needed runs any way we could get ’em.

Vic got a big smile on his face.  He tried about three more times that day but couldn’t golf another one outta there but he did hit another one off of that screen that almost made it.  I was learning a lesson as a coach that day.  Actually, as a coach you are always learning something.  The lesson was simple….JUST LET ‘EM PLAY.

We held on to win that day 16-12………recording the final out of the game with the BASES LOADED and a power-hitting lefty from Chaminade at the plate who was eyeballing that short-porch too!!!!!!!

“The Saugus 500″………part two

Posted: December 31, 2010 in 1990, Games, Hank
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Now we had a game to play.  Our Team that day was divided into several teams.  Throughout the game all the guys who had driven in the same car to the game kind of hung around each other.  And they kept trying to prove their case as to why they won the race.  Newhall-Saugus had a good team, they ultimately won their Division and reached the playoffs.  They threw their big-gun at us Eric Hiljus.  He was a fourth-round draft pick in 1991 and did pitch for four seasons in the Major Leagues.  He was a big, tall, hard-throwing right-hander.  We lit him up.  He was gone by the fourth inning and we almost mercied them on the ten-run-rule. 

I was thinking I would be a really smart guy and bring a video camera to the game.  You know, use it to show our pitchers some stuff.  After the game I had decided I wasn’t such a smart guy and had pretty much decided “no more cameras” at the games.  

Why?  Well…..let me tell you a little story about Hank.  Hank had a great day at the plate that day.  He was doing so well that when he came up in about the sixth inning he decided to start “mugging” at the camera that we had behind home plate.  Smiling, making different facial expressions.  He even did the thing where he smells his armpits and reacts to the smell.  I didn’t see any of this shit going on.  And because he was so busy posing for the camera crew,  Old Hank didn’t see (or hear) the squeeze sign I gave.  Whoever was on third base came charging down towards home plate and Hank either took a big rip at it or he took the pitch I can’t remember.  Our baserunner was caught in a rundown and did not score or return safely to third.  I think the baserunner was Weapon……

After the rundown, the cameraman had the camera RIGHT ON HANK.  All of a sudden Hank was no longer in the mood to make faces and smell his armpits for the “viewing audience.”   He never looked at the camera the rest of the game.  As I am writing this I am laughing out loud!!!  We all know what a great competitor Hank is, and let me tell you, I tried to act pissed about it when I saw the tape…….but I couldn’t stay pissed.  It may be the funniest video footage I have ever seen.  He didn’t tell us at the game that he missed the squeeze sign because he was mugging for the camera….all of that came out when we went home and watched the tape after the game.  I remember he was at “The Dome” watching the footage.  I tried to act pissed, but when he left I couldn’t stop laughing!!!!!   It was priceless!!

I would like to challenge any of the readers out there who think THEY WON “The Saugus 500” to please leave a comment as to just WHY (or how) you won.  General and I like to think we won it.  Everyone is giving General a hard time about driving up on the sidewalk, but the bottom line is we were the first ones in that parking lot and we were the first ones to cross that line in the dirt.   Everyone was trying to say “General cheated” and all of this other BS.  You know what I say?  I say General did what he had to do to win….VERDUGO STYLE.  So let that be a lesson to you boys who sat at the red light and waited for something to happen while General simply MADE IT HAPPEN.  I am especially looking forward to hearing what Hank has to say.  Not just about the race, but whether or not he took a rip at that pitch or took it when the squeeze sign was on…because I can’t remember, and I can’t find that tape.  But know this, if I do find that tape, I will be putting that footage on this blog!!!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh Verdugo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“The Saugus 500″…part one

Posted: December 26, 2010 in 1990, Behind the Scenes, Frost, Games, General, No Way!
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Out in the City of Saugus, California there is a racetrack.  I think they call it the “Saugus Speedway.”  While we were scheduled to play a baseball game in Saugus that day, the game  we played became a mere footnote to a much more monumental event.  An unplanned event of epic proportions.   An event where there was much more at stake than the outcome of a baseball game.  An event where winning was all that mattered.  An event where everyone DECLARED themselves the be the winner, yet no winner was ever officially DECLARED.  An event that to this day (20 years later) is still surrounded by a cloud of controversy.  An event we appropriately named “The Saugus 500.”

It was 1990, our first season, and we were playing a game that hot summer day against a team called Newhall-Saugus.  We had a ritual before every road game.  All of the players and coaches would meet at the same local park in our neighborhood and I would pass out hand-written directions to all of those who were driving.  That day we had about six cars loaded with players and coaches.  One of the kids named “Frost” showed up driving in his step-dad’s Maserati.  He said, “Don’t worry about the directions everybody,  just follow me.”  Like an idiot…I said “okay.”  He then grabbed ALL of the directions I had written out, stuck them in his pocket, hopped in his car and ripped out of the parking lot, leaving us all behind.   

Thanks to Frost, we now had NO directions to the field and he was about a quarter mile down the road.  Going about 60 in a 35.  “Shit!” I said……”Get in your cars and follow his ass!”

People were diving into their cars.  Scrambling!  All I know is that if we lost him, we didn’t know where the hell the field was.  We were a little late as it was, so we all had no choice but to put the pedal to the metal and catch Frost.  Shit I was pissed.  We left a trail of rubber when we left the parking lot.  General was driving.  A couple of the other cars got a little sideways leaving the parking lot.  We ripped to the freeway and we could barely see a speeding car off in the distance that looked like a dot.  I pointed, squinted my eyes and said to General………….”Frost!!!………..get him!!!!”

General did a brilliant job of closing the gap on Frost and all of the other cars were right behind us.  I realized about five miles down the freeway that this was turning into a frickin’ race!!  Everybody was going about 100 mph.  One car would pull up alongside another…the guys in that car would flip-off the guys in the other car.  People were rolling down their windows and yelling shit at each other, making faces and shit.  One of the guys in one car threw something at one of the other cars.  He missed.  Now everybody was laughing.  I hate going fast!!!…..but everybody was determined to win the race.  It was insane!  I asked myself  “What am I doing here?”

Frost knew it was a race now but had a little advantage…he knew where the field was, and he was driving a Maserati.  He signaled to get off at a couple of off-ramps….we got behind him and signaled to get off as well.  Then at the last second he ripped back onto the freeway.  He ‘s toying with us!!  “Fucker!”………I yelled….. “Catch him General!”  Then all of a sudden General says “I think I know where we are…..the field is gonna be on the next off-ramp.”

We had actually pulled ahead of him, then Frost made a crazy move to take the lead as we got off the freeway but he screwed up and got in the wrong lane.  Some of the cars had followed Frost, and some had followed General.  Now we had six cars all stuck at a RED LIGHT….guys flipping each other off….revving their motors.  The chess game began.  Everybody was boxed in.  Frost was ahead of us, but he was in the left lane and pinned in.   We were in the right lane.  Somebody had to make a move.  We had JUST enough room to make something happen.  I said “Do it Gen”………..laughing all the way General drove right up the curb and onto the sidewalk,  just missing a bus bench by less than a foot and a light pole by the same margin.  We had made a clean right turn and escaped the traffic-jam!  We rolled down our windows and started waving goodbye to all the losers that were stuck at that red light!  We saw their faces…they were pissed!  

One of the players in our car yelled “There it is!”   The field was in sight.  General gunned it and we were the first to enter the parking lot.  Then we looked behind….”Oh Shit…it’s Frost!…here he comes!”  And he was bringing it in that Maserati.  And the cars behind Frost were right on him.  Bad news.  The parking lot was totally DIRT!!!  Every car came flying into that parking lot!!  Dust was flying  everywhere….cars were driving in circles , doing brodies.  It looked like a mushroom cloud.  General brought it to a stop.  I got out and quickly drew a line in the dirt behind us.  All of the cars came to skidding halts.  Half a mile away it probably looked like a fire had started.   

“We won!” I yelled.

“Bullshit” said the guys from one of the other cars.

I pointed to the line I had drawn in the dirt.  Smiling, I said “we crossed the finish line!….we win!!!”

“Bullshit!!” another group of guys said..”we saw you draw that line!”

“Bullshit that line was already there”………I said.

“No way!!!” said some of the guys from another car.

Everybody was yelling at each other at this point.   I yelled “Allright quit fucking around we got a game to play….and me and The General won!  And Frost what the hell are you thinking!?!?!?”

We all started getting our gear out of the cars.  Everybody was silent for about a minute.  Then as we’re all walking towards the field Hank pipes up “That’s bullshit driving up the sidewalk General!”

Now everybody started arguing again.  Everybody was saying that they won now.  We didn’t know how to get onto the field.  Gates were locked.  It was starting to get a little heated.  Each driver of each car was telling everybody else why THEY had won the race.  Hank started saying “we’ve done it….we’ve won the Saugus 500!”  We all got ready to hop the left field fence to get onto the field.  This was no chain link fence. It was solid wood, we couldn’t see what was on the other side. Guys were throwing their bags and equipment over the fence.  We all scaled it pretty fast.  By the time we got over the fence and onto the field there was just one problem:  Our opponents were all sitting in left field with their coaches going through stretching exercises.  Half the shit we had thrown over the fence almost hit one of their players or coaches.

We didn’t care.  We just kept on arguing about who had won “The Saugus 500.”   We didn’t even acknowledge their presence.  We just grabbed our stuff off the ground and walked right through their stretching-session and continued over to our dugout arguing all the way. While I kind of wondered what the boys from Newhall-Saugus were thinking at this point…..the beauty of it was I DIDN’T CARE.

……….to be continued

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