Archive for the ‘Rags/Trash Talk’ Category

“Hey 2-3 Your BARN’S ON FIRE!!!”

Posted: March 21, 2011 in 1990, BullOxen, Chili, Games, Rags/Trash Talk, Rogers, Sammy, Spongy
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So we picked up our first win against Burbank after losing a heartbreaker in the Season’s Opener to Panorama City.  Then we got blown-out by Glendale 13-2, and had played Notre Dame to a 3-3 tie.  The following week we traveled for our first time up into Antelope Valley where we split a double-header with another team that ultimately reached the playoffs:  Lancaster.  I wasn’t happy we split.  I felt we were better than they were.  We should have swept ’em.

Remember, the 1990 Team played ALL 22 games that season ON THE ROAD.  And the weekend of June 16th and 17th we had THREE games to play in two days.  A Saturday trip to Quartz Hill, a Sunday trip to North Hollywood, and another game against the Glendale team Sunday night at Stengel Field.  We came into that weekend 2-3-1, but the TIE game was the Notre Dame game that would ultimately be decided in a couple of weeks.  This was a huge weekend for us, to say the least.

The Saturday game against Quartz Hill was one of the greatest dogfights in our history.  It was over 100 degrees that day.  There were 368 pitches thrown in that game.  Six pitching changes.  A wind that got as high as 40 MPH.  A FIRE broke out in the middle of the game.  Yes, a FIRE broke out in the middle of the game.  The lead exchanged hands six times.  We made 10 errors that game.  They stole 15 bases off of us.  We turned three double plays that day…one was a 5-2-5-4 DP….one of the craziest plays I’ve ever seen.  But somehow we just kept battling.  We pounded out 18 hits and in the end prevailed 13-12 in extra innings.  Oh, and by the way…..the game lasted FIVE hours and 45 minutes.   Although we made the drive all the way up there….we were the home team that day and DOGPILED again on someone else’s field. 

It started out simple enough.  I’m out there hitting pre-game drill.  Canale is shagging for me while I hit to the outfielders.  There was a plastic/rubber lid about five feet behind the mound that was about a foot wide and two feet long.  It was there to cover up the water tap so the grounds crew could water down the field.  But the damn thing wouldn’t sit flush.  Canale was trying to fix it so no one would trip over it.  He’d step on the left side of it…and the right side would pop up.  He’d step on the right side of it…and the left side of it would pop up.   He tried a few times to fix it and then we heard a couple of guys from their bench say “Just leave it alone!”…….

Canale was a rookie….he was sixteen years old.  And he had a chaw going.  It was our seventh game.  And you know what he did?  He looked right into their dugout and said to all of ’em “Fuck You!!!”

I loved it!  I’m thinking………..”we’re gonna be just fine today”……….

But this was the amazing thing about the 1990 Team.  They would always quickly acclimate themselves to wherever they were playing.  This was a world up here in the Antelope Valley that most of us didn’t even know existed.  I mean, this was a 150 mile round-trip into the middle of NOWHERE.  Just about every field we went to that year none of our guys had ever even SEEN, let alone play on.  And some of the time, the fields were not very well maintained by the opposing team’s coaching staff.  Some of the conditions were brutal.  But to the great Warriors we had playing for us…it didn’t matter.  That Team was truly a bunch of animals who had been let out of their cages (as Nance said)…………and we were ALWAYS looking for an opportunity to “mark our territory.” 

Quartz Hill had a great team that season…finishing 19-4 and reaching the Playoffs.  And we dogpiled right there on their field.  I remember late in the game as I was walking off the field from the third base coaching box towards our dugout on the first base side their Head Coach said to me “where are you guys from?”……

He didn’t ask that question to me trying to find out where we were from geographically…..he KNEW where we came from.  He wasn’t expecting the kind of dogfight we put him through that day.  The way he asked me was almost in disbelief……maybe he thought we were something “otherwordly”…or “from hell”…….I don’t know what he was thinking.  I just kept on walking.  I didn’t answer him.  I just kept walking towards the dugout.  Cold-eyed stare.  Never even LOOKED at him.  That was kind of my way of saying to him “No matter how hard you hit us….we’re gonna keep getting up….and when the dust settles….we’re gonna be the ones standing.”

And sure enough, that’s exactly what happened.  We trailed 9-8 going into the bottom of the seventh.  Sammy Vaquera had a clutch base hit to tie it 9-9.  Damon Martin came up with two out.  And promptly BOMBED a two-run shot to left.  As soon as Damon hit that thing I was barking at it to “GET OUTTA HERE!!”  I left the third base box and was on the outfield grass talking to that thing when it finally cleared the fence.  Fuck I was FIRED UP!!!

They took a 12-11 lead into the bottom of the ninth.  Vic Ramirez walked and stole second.  Again, Martin came up and delivered a CLUTCH base-hit to bring in Vic.  That tied it up and sent the game into extra innings.

Canale went out to the mound and threw one of the most impressive innings he had thrown all season.  And they had their 2-3-4 holes in their lineup coming up.  It was exactly the type of thing I knew he was capable of.  He struck out their leadoff hitter on three pitches.  He snapped off the nastiest curveball I may have ever seen for strike one…..threw him a fork-pitch that dropped about a foot and a half for a called strike two…….and then just flat out threw it right by the guy for the called third strike.  He walked the next guy on four pitches….retired their clean-up hitter on a 4-3 groundout…and blew a fastball for strike three to another one of their big guns to end the top of the tenth. 

Chili Rivera led off the bottom of the tenth for us with a hard hit double up the gap in left center.  It was Chili’s fourth hit of the game.  John Rogers came up and blasted a 2-1 fastball over their right fielders head and we were dogpiling again!!!  It was Rogers’ third double of the game.  I remember lumbering down the third base line following Chili towards home plate.  Chili ran out to congratulate Rogers with everyone else.  I just kept going towards our dugout.  I tried to do one of those “forward-roll” front flips and ate shit.  But it didn’t matter.  I lied there on the ground on my back…..looking up into the smoke-filled sky…..two arms extended up towards that sky with clenched fists and thinking to myself “this is gonna be a fun ride home!”

As the game had gone on we realized which one of the Quartz Hill guys had yelled at Canale to “Leave it alone!!” when Josh was trying to fix that rubber lid before the game.  In 1990 he was still “Canale”…he didn’t become “BullOxen” until 1991.  Well, it was number 23 who had said it.  He was one of the two guys Canale mowed down on strikes in the tenth inning.  Canale…being Canale….couldn’t resist saying to the guy “Hey 2-3 your BARN’S ON FIRE” when that fire broke out in the middle of the game.

It was time to drive back down the hill.  We left a trail of carnage that day and it was only fitting that as we drove home….and looked back…the skies of Antelope Valley were blackened with smoke.

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”……………

“Now That’s What I’m Talkin’ About!!!”

Posted: February 26, 2011 in Rags/Trash Talk, Thunder
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I know…I know.  I said I needed a breather.  Well…I lied, I guess.  The bottom line is this…I’m ADDICTED to this Blog!!!!  Ahh!!!!  Every time I want to take a rest from it….. yet another great story comes to mind and I know if I don’t write it down I will forget it.   Now, we all know how much we loved getting in everyone’s head.  Well, General and I had a cool thing going that we would pull out of the hat every once in a while to get in the other COACHES heads.  It’s called “Now That’s What I’m Talking About!!!”

What we would do is wait.  And wait.  And wait.  And finally it would happen.  A play would happen on the field that there is no way in hell we EVER talked about to you guys.  I’m talking about a play that would happen once every five years or something like that.  Preferably some kind of play that no one had EVER seen.  A spectacular play where there is no way our player EVER could have received ANY instructions from us.  This is when we would bark out….”Now That’s What I’m Talkin’ Bout!!!!!”….making it APPEAR as though we had PLANNED what had just happened on the field, or that we had been working on it. 

Let’s say Fielder is catching and the batter hits a weak foul ball over by the first base dugout…just high enough for Fielder to sprint for and make a sliding catch to avoid crashing into the fence.  You know, one of those sliding catches a catcher makes right in front of the other coaches near their dugout opening.  “Now that’s what I’m Talkin’ Bout!!!!” we would roar out loud enough for the opposing coaches to hear.  Almost making it appear as though we had actually spent time with Fielder WORKING on that play!!  God that would piss the other coaches off!!!  They would just look at us like “Fuck you”………

Or how about a hooking line drive towards the left field corner that our left fielder get horizontal to the ground diving for and he comes up with the ball and a mouthful of grass…and then he shows the ball to the umps to let them know it was a clean play.  “Now That’s What I’m Talkin’ About!” we would yell….more stares from the opposing coaches. 

Or how about when we run a squeeze play and our batter doesn’t get the sign and takes a swing at it…misses the pitch…the guy on third gets in a rundown and somehow SCORES!!!  “Now That’s What I’m Talkin’ Bout!!”

The crazier the play, the louder we would yell it.  It just gave fits to the other guys.  But you know, General and I were always just kind of looking to get our fair advantage against the other coaches.  And Speaking of Fielder……How about when (like a fool) I sent him home on an overthrow?  The Crespi third baseman picked it up and had Fielder thrown out by about 15 feet…yet Fielder stops, waits for the catcher to leap forward to tag him…..and then Fielder simply leaps over the catcher who is now lying face down in the dirt for the walk-off, winning run!!  “Now That’s What I’m Talkin’ About!!!!”  Of course you guys know we spent HOURS working on that play, right??? 

I really didn’t care how we got things done on the field.  As long as we did it….pretty or ugly…..there’s really only one thing to say…….”NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ BOUT!!!!!!”  It always used to amuse me with these other coaches around the league who had to win pretty, and make everything look all pretty to give the impression that they had something to do with whatever success their team was having.  Me?  Winning ugly is fine.  I never tried to take myself too seriously out there.  I took the job seriously, but I didn’t take myself too seriously.  I made all kinds of mistakes.  You guys made the plays…I was just along for the ride.  Really, the more I got out of the way of our Team the better we played.  Go figure.  All I know is this:  Our players played the game harder and with more fire than anyone else in the league……and THAT is ALL I’m talkin’ bout!!!  That’s part of the reason we would bark that shit out like that.  Because you guys were out their busting your asses and running through brick walls for us and it got General and myself TOTALLY fired up!!!!!!

Winning ugly?  I have no problem with that.  As long as we won, I really didn’t care what it looked like.  And it never mattered when we lost, because you guys ALWAYS played hard.  All I know is this…if a crazy play happened, and the result was in OUR favor, there’s only ONE thing you’re gonna hear from me and General:  “Now That’s What I’m Talkin’ Bout!!!!!!”

“QUICK!!!!!….PANTHERLIKE!!!!!”

Posted: February 21, 2011 in 1992, 1993, No Way!, Rags/Trash Talk
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 I don’t even know how this shit started……but it’s something we started doing in ’92.  All I know is that it REALLY pissed off the other team.  And here at Verdugo…when we sense you don’t like something…we take that as a DIRECT CUE to just keep on doing it!  I will let you former players out there explain to our viewing audience what all this “Quick!!!………Pantherlike” shit was all about.  Please remember guys that when explaining it…there was a TIMING element that came into play.  We would say “Quick” after one event…and “Pantherlike” after another event.  I must say…..when you’re managing a team and you hear guys on the field and on the bench saying this shit…you just KNOW everything is going to be okay!!!  Then our guys started changing it up a little bit depending on the situation.  They’d maybe say……”SLOW!!!…SLOTHLIKE!!!”…whatever we could do to get in someone’s head(s).  I must say I am laughing as I write this……….in fact, I’m going into the backyard right now and say “Quick!!!!!!………Pantherlike!!!!”  And after our guys explain to you what this great shit is….I’m sure you will too!!!!!!!!!!

“Get Outta My Dugout!!!!!!!!!”

Posted: February 20, 2011 in Rags/Trash Talk
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Imagine you are the coach for the other team.  You’re up against Verdugo Hills.  You probably are under the assumption that it’s just going to be another day at the ballpark.  You are in your spot in the third base coaching box.  You kind of take a look around the field, check out how many people are in the stands, maybe you look up in the sky and just kind of realize what a great day it is for a ballgame.  You watch the Verdugo pitcher taking his warm-up tosses before the game starts.  Then you make a huge mistake.  You look over into the Verdugo dugout.  At first you see several players and coaches who are seated.  But the moment you looked in….one of those guys in the dugout stands up, takes a few steps towards you, looks you straight in the eye and says in a loud, gravelly voice “GET OUTTA MY DUGOUT!!!!!!!!!”  And he keeps staring at you until you look away………..

The rest of the players and coaches in that Verdugo dugout are now RIGHT ON YOU…staring you down.  You look away saying to yourself  “Oh shit………..”

You can’t even believe what had just happened.  But boy can you now “feel” the pressure.  You might even hear a few comments about YOU as the game goes on.  But you dare not make that mistake again.  You have learned a lesson by now.  And the lesson is that you will never, ever look into that dugout the rest of the game.  Even though you don’t look in there again….you KNOW  “they” are watching you.  You are kind of in disbelief.  You can’t believe that this is happening.  You go over to your dugout after the inning is over and tell someone on your team about what happened.  No one believes you.  Then they try to look into the Verdugo dugout to prove you wrong.  And then another Verdugo guy will hop up from his seated position, take a few steps towards that guy…point…stare him down and bark out “GET OUTTA MY DUGOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!”  And stare that guy down until he looks away………….

It just kind of set the tone for the game.  We had a unique way of letting the enemy know who the dominant alpha males were going to be for the remainder of the day.  And we had you backpeddling from the onset of the game.  You know it’s amazing how many times we did this to unsuspecting members of the opposition.  Word got around the league…don’t even LOOK in their dugout.  We didn’t care who it was.  Coach, player, ump, parent, league official….it was real simple.  Someone was ready to bark out “GET OUTTA MY DUGOUT!!!!!!!!!” at all times. 

General started this back in 1990.  There was this John Candy look-alike coaching the Lancaster team and he was just walking over to our dugout between innings like it was a frickin’ social event and all we wanted to do was get that loudmouth Del Griffith clone to shut his pie hole.  For some reason…we never told him to “GET OUTTA MY DUGOUT!!!!!!!!!”  Thanks to that dork and his fat mouth…General and I decided to never let anyone in our dugout again.  And the players took quite a liking to it.  What was funny was when we played the Lancaster team in 1992 and when he tried doing that shit again….we were all over him.  We silenced him and kicked their asses on the field.  He was in a daze the whole game.  Instead of sitting there and listening to his drivel….we were calling him “Dewey Oxenberg” (John Candy’s role in the movie “Stripes”).  After one look in our dugout…he, and the rest of the boys from Lancaster were done.  He never even looked into our dugout again…………

You know…to this day I still find myself in situations where the words “GET OUTTA MY DUGOUT!!!!!!!” still apply.  How about you?

“FENCE!!!!!!!!!!!”

Posted: February 18, 2011 in 1992, Hack, Rags/Trash Talk, Turner
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I had mentioned in an earlier post about the notorious left field fence at Saugus High.  That fence they had that was colored blue and was made of solid wood.  On this day in Verdugo History….We were playing Newhall-Saugus…again.  This was NOT the day of the infamous “Saugus 500.”  No, this was another game.  In fact, this was the final regular-season game of the ’92 season and we were going to start the playoffs in a couple of days against…you guessed it….Newhall-Saugus.  There wasn’t much at stake this game as both teams had already clinched playoff spots.  And what happened on this day may have been one of the top-five laughers of all-time Verdugo lore.

Workman came up and hit an absolute SHOT up the left-center gap.  Their left and center-fielders were sprinting towards the ball.  I mean these guys were running  FULL BORE.  It looked like the left fielder might have had a chance to make a play on it.  One problem.  His teammate, the centerfielder forgot to tell him he was running out of real estate.  No warning.  The left fielder sprinted straight into that solid wood fence.  Unfortunately, there isn’t a word that can describe the sound of when he crushed into it…all I can say is that it was really, really LOUD.

The left fielder went down in a heap.  The ball caromed off the wall and our guys were now hustling around the basepaths.  Their center fielder was now chasing a ball that was rolling back towards the infield.  The guy that ran into the fence was still on the ground and looked like he was dead……….

As our guys were rounding the basepaths and I was “windmilling” guys home from the third base coaching box I heard Robb Turner yell out the word “FENCE!!!!!!!!!!”

I started laughing so hard I fell down………………

That blue fence they had also had that really cool yellow line painted at the top of it.  If a ball hit the yellow line and still stayed in the park, it’s a home run.  Hack’s shot probably hit the yellow line.  It could have gone either way.  I wanted to argue about it with the umpire but how could I have put together a convincing case when I couldn’t stop laughing?

Fielder’s Dad and the “Can of Corn”

Posted: February 17, 2011 in Rags/Trash Talk, Thunder
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The same game that all five coaches got kicked out for NOT chewing tobacco………there was yet more drama. 

Garrett Lee, who had given up that first inning home run had settled into quite a groove.  He retired 17 of the next 20 hitters he faced.   Birmingham had one player who was a pretty big boy, but none of it was muscle if you know what I mean.  He came up around the middle of the game and hit a high towering fly ball to center.  It was in the air like….forever.  As it was coming down someone on our bench yelled “can of corn” to our center fielder.  Easy catch………easy play.

Have you heard that before?  I have.  I remember the phrase “can of corn” since …like…Little League. 

All of a sudden the big overweight player gets all pissed that we said “can of corn” like it was a reference to his heft or something.  Then his mom in the stands started bitching about it.  She was like severely obese.  We just kind of chuckled in the dugout amongst ourselves…in disbelief that these two people thought the phrase “can of corn” had some kind of hidden meaning.  This lady just wouldn’t let it go.  She was carrying on about it and wouldn’t shut up.

Finally ‘Ol Gee had to say something.  Here is what was said:

Gee to Severely Obese Mother:  “Hey why don’t you save all of that for a REAL crisis?”

Severely Obese Mother to Gee:  “Crisis?  You’re the crisis!”

Fielder’s Dad to Severely Obese Mother:  “What are you stupid haven’t you ever heard of the phrase ‘can of corn?'”

Man in stands to Fielder’s Dad:  “Hey don’t talk to my wife like that.” 

Fielder’s Dad to Husband of Severely Obese Mother:  “That’s your wife?”

Husband of Severely Obese Mother to Fielder’s Dad: “Yeah!”

Fielder’s Dad to Husband of Severely Obese Mother:  “My condolences”…………………..

End of conversation.

“It was me….”

Posted: February 16, 2011 in 1993, BullOxen, Games, General, Hank, Rags/Trash Talk, Weapon
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It was no secret that I liked to run kind of a “loose ship” at Verdugo.  I was smoking cigarettes in the dugout.  We always had our official Gatorade cooler filled with some nice cold water.  Oranges were always in the dugout.   I allowed Jess Rogers to set up shop IN our dugout making snowcones for everyone.   Even though the league had very tough rules on tobacco use on the field and in the dugout, I never got caught by the umpires smoking.  The rule was simple if you were caught…immediate ejection from the game.

I even let our players chew tobacco.  Some of the guys had that thing going on where you get a chaw going and then wrap it in bubblegum.  I used to chew, but by the time I was managing our team my chewing days were long gone.  It had been at least 10 years since I had chewed.

In ’93 we were playing a game on a Saturday at Birmingham High.  Birmingham always had a weak team, but this season they were winning a few games here and there and were starting to get a little “uppity.”  Anyways, one of their guys came up in the first inning and bombed a home run off Garrett Lee, giving them  2-0 lead.  It was the bottom of the first inning and they were celebrating like they had just won the World Series.  We just kind of laughed at them and by the eighth inning we had opened up an 11-2 lead…and I had knocked their pitcher out of the game.  Wait a minute you say?  I knocked him out of the game?  Yes I did. 

We all know about the importance of “the short hop” but from the third base coaching box you can’t be short-hopping EVERYONE.  You gotta kind of pick your spots.  If I couldn’t do a blatant SHORT HOP at someone…I would usually toss back to the pitcher what I called my “Tough Knuckler.”   Well, a foul ball came over my way around the 5th inning after we had been knocking their starter around and I decided to fire that “Tough Knuckler” at the pitcher.  It was the mother of all knucklers.  I had screwed around with knucklers my whole life and this may have been the ONLY one that actually “knuckled.”  Well, it knuckled so well that he couldn’t catch it…it hit him in his right kneecap…and he had to come out of the game.  I really don’t think the knuckler hurt him as bad as the battering our hitters were giving this guy.  Let’s face it..he WANTED out of the game.  But put it down in the books…..I was the guy who delivered the official knockout punch. 

The boys at Birmingham were getting a little upset.  They had to find SOME WAY to win this game, and it wasn’t going to happen on the field.  So one of their coaches goes to the ump and tells him that we had guys chewing tobacco in the dugout.  Sure enough, the umpire comes over to our dugout to see if there was any “evidence” of chaw.  The whole dugout was filled with spit all over the ground.  Forensic tests were not needed on this one…we were BUSTED.  The ump said “who’s been chewing?”

“It was me”……….I said.

“You did all of this?” he asked.  “You could have been sitting here for two days and not spit that many times.”

“Well, I was doing it, too” ……….announced General.

Then Hank pipes up “Yeah, so did I.”

Weapon followed up with “Okay, you got me….I was doing it, too.”

BullOxen said…….”Yeah, it was me.”

The funny thing that was happening here was that NONE of the coaches had chewed.  Well, except for maybe BullOxen.  But we all stepped up to account for the mess in the dugout and to protect any players from getting tossed out of the game.  Totally unorchestrated, every coach instinctively took the bullet for the other guys.  Anyways, the ump BELIEVED our story and threw all five coaches out of the game.  Automatic forfeiture of the game.  No coaches left.  This set off an immediate dogpiling from the Birmingham team.  They had defeated us and now they were rubbing it in……

But wait a minute!!!!!!!  There JUST HAPPENED to be a couple of old codgers there from Post 288 who were there watching our team play that day.  In fact…ONE OF THEM was actually listed on the official paperwork of our team (that I just so happened to have with me that day) as the DE FACTO Manager of our team!!!  That’s right…’Ol Dave Haskell was there and had to come on the field for the final few innings to guide the team to victory.  The umps were really disappointed that Haskell was there.  And the boys from Birmingham had to break up their little dogpile and get back on the field and finish off the whoopin’ we were giving them.  And all five coaches who were thrown out of the game got to sit in the stands and take it all in.  The boys at Birmingham were now STARING DOWN Haskell.  They were not happy.  Hank said something to the Birmingham dugout like “we’ve got some bad news………HE DOESN’T CHEW!!!” 

Haskell knew nothing about baseball, and was the first to admit it.  This made it even more hilarious.  He was hamming it up down in the third base box…giving signs to our players that had no meaning.  Haskell, probably about 75 years old at the time, was rubbing it right back in Birmingham’s collective faces……and he was loving every minute of it.

Haskell was a drill sergeant in the Army.  After the game he went into full drill-sarge mode….which scared the hell out of a few of our players.  “Pay attention now I’m talking to you!!” he barked at the team.  I’ll never forget the look on Cowsill’s face!!  It was like…holy shit!!! 

“Now!!” Haskell said “I want you all to say right now WE’RE THE BEST!!!”

A few guys said “We’re the best”

It wasn’t loud enough for Haskell…….”I said I want to hear you say WE’RE THE BEST!!!”  He looked like a real drill sarge.  Scary…mouth open…sizing people up….daring someone to challenge his authority.  Moving in close on people acting like he was about to grab them and kick their ass if they didn’t do it.  Everyone got the message.

“WE’RE THE BEST!!!!!!!!”

“Say it again” he barked.

“WE’RE THE BEST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Haskell had everyone…including me, all jacked-up and screaming “WE’RE THE BEST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

It was so loud the Birmingham players and coaches were really starting to get pissed about it.

God that was a great day…………

Verdugo ALWAYS gets in the last word……….AND the last laugh!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fat Bitch Gets His Bra Knocked Off…Twice!! (Part One)

Posted: February 10, 2011 in "B", 1992, BullOxen, Haggs, Rags/Trash Talk, Yves
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I never liked this kid the moment I first saw his fat lazy ass.  Of course I dislike anyone wearing a different uniform than ours, but there was a special annoyance I had with this overweight slob.  I REALLY became annoyed with him when he beat us in 1990 with a 75 mile an hour fastball.  In fact, ALL HE HAD was a “fastball.”   I couldn’t believe he beat us, and our guys couldn’t believe it either.  All I know is we wanted another shot at him.  We had to wait two long summers before we faced him again, but it was well worth the wait, and not only did we get another shot at him…we got TWO!!!

You guys on the 1990 Team know who I’m talking about.  The fat slob from the Sun Valley team with the crewcut.  If you would have put a set of white and red checkered overalls on this guy…the Bob’s Big Boy mascot would have been out of a job.  What a sweathog!!  This may be the first guy I’ve seen who sweated from his eyes and ears and fingernails!! (maybe even his teeth, too).   And to top it all off…he actually thought he was good.  I don’t know how the hell this slovenly mongrel beat us that year in 1990…but he did.  I’m still fucking pissed that cheesedick beat us………

The problem was when we faced him two seasons later he had gained about 60 more pounds.  And he was throwing about 94 mph.  He now actually had a “fastball.”  And he had just finished a season of Junior College ball where he actually did pretty well.  I mean this Fat Bitch was bringing’ it.  I saw him in the bullpen throwing peas….he was all geared up.  I didn’t care how fucking hard he was throwing…I knew we were ready for whatever he came at us with.  I mean, this guy had like TWO pitches he threw…hard and HARDER.  Looking back, I thank God they didn’t sell Red Bull back in 1992, cause this guy was ready to blow a frickin’ head gasket.   And since he beat us in 1990…he figured this game was going to be just a walk in the park.   

This was a big game.  The playoff picture was starting to emerge and we were right in the thick of it.  We came into that game 12-2 and had just SWEPT the Glendale team on 4th of July, effectively knocking them out of the playoff picture.  So it was basically down to us and Sun Valley for a playoff spot.  Some of the other coaches around the league (including Fat Jody) had come to watch the game that Sunday night.   When Sun Valley opened up a 5-0 lead…I guess all of the coaches had seen enough.  They all went home.  It was the top of the second inning and once again….everybody wrote us off.  I guess they thought that all this early-season hype about that team from Verdugo Hills was just a bunch of B.S………well, I would have PAID good money to see the look on the faces of all of those bitches when they opened up the L.A  Times Sports section Monday morning and learned we had come back to win 11-10.  Not only did we win…but ANOTHER rivalry had started.  

Fat Bitch was bringin’ it pretty good that night.  But BullOxen hit a seed in the bottom of the first that the left fielder somehow grabbed to end the inning.  Fat Bitch did a little double-take after that bullet…and I heard one of the guys in our dugout say something like “there’s gonna be plenty of that tonight fat ass” as he was walking back to his dugout.  We rolled a five on him the next inning.  Now guys in our dugout were starting to say to him stuff like “nice tits.”   Hagee hit a frickin’ seed that whistled past his little crew-cut.  Then he DOSED Yves with a pitch…trying to instill a little fear in us.  It didn’t matter….we hit bullets off of him all night.  He was getting a whiplashed out there.  Finally someone said…”pick up your bra, bitch.”……..we were calling him “Chuck and duck”……….it was brutal the shit we said.  And we were lovin’ every minute of it…..

Cowsill lead off the seventh with another shot up the left-center gap…and Hagee knocked ‘ol fat-ass out of the game with another screaming whistler right past his fat noggin.  As their manager went out to pull his beat-like-a-dog-ass out of the game we were all (except me of course) just jawing at their coach who looked like a fat walrus himself.  He was so pissed that right there in front of about 300 people he looks into our dugout from the mound and acts like he’s holding it and jacking-off as if to say to us…”fuck you.”

Wiley Jackson was quick to say to him after his little gesture……….”Hey two-five need some soap?”

That comment brought the house down. They were done. We were totally in all of their heads.  Fat Bitch had to make the walk of shame into right field after we had totally lit him up and walrus had pulled him from the game.  He had to walk right past Hagee who was standing on first.  And Hagge was jawing at him all the way.  The ump had to intervene.  That may have been the hardest that fat-bitch had been hit his whole life…………at least until about 10 days later, when we hit him even HARDER and knocked him out again.

They kept trying to come at us but ran themselves out of both the eight and ninth innings….and we held on to win.  All in all….we torched him for 10 runs in six innings.  And he only struck out one guy.  But the damage was done when we kept hitting shot after shot RIGHT AT one of their guys on defense……..that was what had really demoralized him.  Of course…….after the game he was already saying shit like “we’ll see you in 10 days.”  And sure enough……..he did.  This was only the first time he got his bra knocked off………….I can’t wait to tell you about the SECOND time we did it to him.

Father’s Day with Ron Cey

Posted: December 23, 2010 in Behind the Scenes, No Way!, Rags/Trash Talk
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by Gee

1992 was the season we broke through.  We had certainly “served notice” to the rest of the league in ’90 and ’91, but ’92 was the year.  We just flat out pounded the shit out of the ball.  This was a big game for us.  Going in we were charging hard and carving out our name around the league as the new bully in the block.  Here we were on Father’s Day playing against a team that had won the Legion World Series three years earlier.  And I must admit we all took personal pleasure in ruining Ron Cey’s Father’s Day.  Kind of has a nice ring to it, huh?

We were at the field early, guys were getting ready to go through their pre-game “flip” ritual.  The other team arrived and upon their arrival Ron Cey kind of took it upon himself to hop right down onto our field and start distracting my players.  Cey’s son was playing for the other team that day.  We all knew who he was.  But I’m thinking “what’s this guy doing?”  Isn’t he getting enough attention on those 1-800-THE-LAW-2 commercials?  I’m thinking “whatever dude.”  But we DO have a rule at Verdugo.  It’s called “get out of my dugout,”  and Ron Cey is no exception.  And he handed it to me on a silver platter.  I broke the silence by saying “Hey look everybody Steve Garvey’s here!”

Yeah, he didn’t like that.  I knew I had taken the upper hand when he corrected me and told me who he really was.  As if we didn’t know.   I wanted to abruptly tell him to “get outta my dugout” but decided to use a little finesse on this one.  Have a little fun with it.  He started out by telling us about how he had hit home runs against Nolan Ryan.  He said they had “figured out” Ryan.  He said they always knew when Ryan was going to throw a curveball because every time he threw it he would “look down” at the ground when starting his windup.  Sounded like Rocket Science to me.  So I asked him “and I suppose you had all of this inside information on Ryan the time he threw the no-hitter against you boys on Monday Night Baseball?”

Yeah he didn’t like that comment either.  Our guys were no longer in awe of him.  So I continued to interview him about “the big contracts”…and the “bad attitudes of the (then) modern-day players”…and other questions.  I really wasn’t interested in his answers, I was more interested in cutting him off in the middle of his long-winded pontifications and firing another question at him that would always finish with the words “what do you think of that?”

His frustration was growing.  He probably hadn’t been treated that way since being in the Minor Leagues.  I don’t know what the final question was that I asked him (that ended in “what do you think of that?”) but the last answer he gave to me was “I think you’re full of shit!” and he walked away……pissed!  Mission accomplished!  He had officially “gotten out of my dugout” and our players were laughing about it.  Ron Cey and his son were the least of our worries.  We went out on the field and punished them 8-3.  The score was not really indicative of the beating they took.  BullOxen threw a gem even though he was stung by a bee while on the mound.

The other team was grumbling that the playing field was not really level that day because they all had been at the prom last night.  Funny, I was thinking.  You poor babies did a little partying last night?  Well, you just ran up against a team that parties EVERY night…so quit crying about it.   Hell, our guys probably spilled more alcohol last night than you wimps drank.  Once again I was thinking “whatever dude.”

Cey’s kid had an 0-fer (three?) at the plate.  In the fifth or sixth inning we hit another bullet up the middle that Cey tried to dive at.  The ball went through (again) and Cey didn’t get up.  He just lied there on the field face down.  They stopped the game.  Onto the field (again) jumps Ron Cey himself to go check on his kid and make sure he’s okay.  It didn’t take long for a few of our players to yell out “CALL 1-800-THE-LAW-2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I had a hard time keeping a straight face on that one, but I did.  And Cey and his kid didn’t stick around for the outcome of the game.  They went home early.  They probably had some things planned for Father’s Day.  I’m sure he had a great Father’s day.  But I’ll bet you it was a Father’s Day He’ll NEVER forget.