verdugo288

“It was me….”

Posted: February 16, 2011 in 1993, BullOxen, Games, General, Hank, Rags/Trash Talk, Weapon

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!!!!!!!!!!!!

From $1000.00 to a TEAM BUS?

Posted: February 14, 2011 in Behind the Scenes

I’ll never forget the first year I went into the Legion Post in La Crescenta in late 1989 and asked them for money to sponsor our team. At the time there was a “La Crescenta” Legion team, but it didn’t have anything to do with Post 288. In fact, when I made the initial contact with a guy named Dave Haskell…I was told they had NOT sponsored a team in almost 30 years. That was really not so encouraging to find out. However, I had a good feeling about Haskell from our first phone call. He, at the time, was The Commander of Post 288 and had a lot of pull there and said he would at least give me a chance to make my pitch to the rest of the members of The Post. However, he made it VERY CLEAR to me that this was not going to be HIS decision and that if I wanted any help putting this thing together that I was going to have to convince ALL of the members of Post 288.

I went to the meeting and was introduced to about 30 people and just started walking towards the podium. They all said “STOP!” I learned that it was a Legion tradition that when you were to speak at one of these events you had to be officially “escorted” to the podium by two members. So I walked up to the podium with one old veteran holding my right arm and another veteran holding my left arm. On top of that, they all clapped in unison to the beat of our footsteps as we approached the podium. Needless to say, by the time I made it up there, I was crapping my pants.

I nervously made it through my speech. These were SERIOUS guys. And they listened to every single word I said. You could see the painful expressions on their face as they began to realize that I wasn’t coming in here asking for 50 bucks. Most of them objected to getting involved. They felt that they would help us out and not get any recognition or appreciation. It was NOT looking good. After about 10 minutes of going through rebuttals with Dave Haskell moderating, a really cool thing happened that kind of swung things in our favor. Haskell, a former football player from USC back in the 1940’s said to the men in the room “Since you wimps in attendance tonight are being so protective of The Post’s money…I got 100 bucks here out of my own pocket to somehow help these kids…. now, will any of you ladies be willing to match it?” He then slammed down a $100.00 bill on the podium.

There was this one big chubby guy who hadn’t said a word the whole night. He looked PISSED. And I was thinking I was the guy he was pissed at. I was wondering what this guy was gonna say when he finally spoke. He had a beard and he was a pretty mean-looking dude. After Haskell’s challenge, his face turned beet red. He walked straight for the podium (nobody escorted THIS DUDE up there). He reaches into his pocket…and slams down $200.00!!!!!!!!!! I found out later that his name was Ken Zuetell. Zuetell’s move kind of swung things in our favor. To this day there is only one word I can use to describe Zuetell’s move……..CLUTCH. Then a guy named Jess Rogers verbally committed to $100.00.

At this point the room was filled with about 30 old guys that were arguing with each other and it was getting LOUD and some of the comments they were making to one another were getting PERSONAL. Ever the diplomat, Dave Haskell decided to excuse me from the war I had started and to leave them alone while they slugged it out. He winked at me when I left and I realized that he had kind of taken a liking to me and my idea of having a team. And I could sense that he wanted to be a part of it behind the scenes. He said he would call me later that night and let me know how things had turned out. As I was leaving, I could hear Haskell saying to the group “Gentlemen, I think it’s time for us to put our money where our mouth is.”

Sure enough about 9:30 PM the phone rang. Haskell had pulled it off ! And he congratulated me as the new coach of Verdugo Hills Post 288. He said they could commit to “about 1000 dollars”………………I was elated.

Dave Haskell worked behind the scenes with me and taught me how to go in and visit The Post every once in a while…even during the off-season, and (as he said) “work the crowd.” He said “I can teach you how to get even more money out of these guys next year”………..and I listened to and followed through with all of his instruction. And you know what? He was right. Everything he told me to do WORKED.

The next season, they gave us $1500.00 . The next season…..$2000.00. The final season (1993) they basically gave us a blank check. I never abused it. I think the last season we spent about $3000.00 of the Post’s money. They basically told me before the last season…”get the kids whatever they need.” And the way I see it, none of it ever would have happened without Haskell, Zuetell, and Rogers slamming down their hard-earned money on that podium that night. They understood that you guys really wanted to play at that level, and I wanted to prove I could coach at that level, and win at that level. It was beautiful.

After the 1993 season, I was already planning for 1994. And I had every intention of making ’94 another great season for us. I think I stopped by in October of ’93 or something and pitched them on the idea that it might be a pretty cool thing for Verdugo Hills Post 288 to have a TEAM BUS. General had volunteered to do the repairs if needed, and I told the Legionnaires that they might be able to put it to use year-round just kind of making sure the Members of The Post had rides to meetings, etc. General figured we could pick up a used bus for 12-15k and being the brilliant mechanic General was (and still is) he would have fixed it up with all the bells and whistles. The guys at The Post loved the winning and the tradition we had created, and they LOVED the idea of having a BUS!!! I will never forget laughing to myself when I left that meeting….thinking to myself….”these wonderful old guys are gonna buy us a frickin’ BUS!!!!!!!!!!” And you know what? They WOULD have done it………..

The problem was………..1994 never happened. I gave up The Team.

Can you imagine the uproar we would have caused around the league pulling up to games in a frickin’ TEAM BUS???????????

Yes-sir-ree…………from $1000.00 to a TEAM BUS………not bad, huh?

The Question I Could Never Answer………

Posted: February 14, 2011 in Behind the Scenes

One of the great things about managing this team for all of those years was the media attention we got. I guess there just wasn’t a whole hell of a lot going on sports-wise during the summer months so we got coverage from The Los Angeles Times, The Daily News, and The Foothill Leader. Every time I turned around there was someone calling me, or asking me questions before a game, after a game, and sometimes even DURING games. It was great to get the exposure for the players. Legion was a pretty big deal about 20 years ago, yet now if you look in the L.A. Times during the summertime the coverage is literally non-existent.

We had some great quotations that the newpapers actually printed. I said some pretty crazy stuff. Some of you may remember them but if you don’t, I have recently hooked up my scanner here in my office and will be attempting to scan the headlines or quotes or whatever and get them on this blog. I have told a number of people through the years about some of the stuff I said but I doubt anyone believed me. Well, ‘Ol Gee just found all of the scorebooks of every game I EVER managed PLUS a huge box of newspaper clippings. At least I was bright enough to keep all of that stuff. Now if I can just find that damn video Yves’ mother gave me of miscellaneous highlights of the ENTIRE ’92 season I can embed some cool video footage on this blog as well. So keep your fingers crossed that I can find it……….

The question I could never answer to the reporters was always asked to me BEFORE the game started. All of our players would line up in a circle either in left field or right field, depending on which dugout we had that day. Before they even stretched or played catch they went through this ritual before every game starting in ’92. While our opponent was on the other side of the field stretching or playing catch….and some dumb-ass coach micro-managing them….our guys were playing this game they invented called “FLIP.” If a reporter got to the game early, they would always come up to me before the game and chat a little. This was when I was invariably asked the question “What are they doing out there?”…….

I never really knew what the hell they were doing or what the rules of “FLIP” were. I was busy going through my OWN pre-game ritual. So when asked the question “what are they doing out there?” I would usually answer with “bonding, I guess”……..

I would then tell the reporter that this was indeed a REAL game they were playing with REAL rules and that there was only one winner and everybody else lost. We would watch the circle of players. Some guys had their hats on bill in front. Some guys had the bill turned sideways, some guys were wearing their bills backwards……..and they kept moving their hats into different positions as the game went on. I didn’t know what the hell the rules were but it was fascinating to watch. It was also funny to watch who was “eliminated” from the game as it went on…and how they would bitch about being “ganged up on” or someone or a group of guys “cheating” as they dejectedly returned to our dugout. It seemed that if anyone got “eliminated” from “FLIP”…it was ALWAYS someone’s fault other than their own…….

I never could explain to any reporter what in the hell “FLIP” was. All I know it that it was a beautiful pre-game ritual. I could get the field ready and post the lineup and get a lotta stuff done while “FLIP” was happening. Then the players would magically on their own start playing a little catch and/or stretching as needed. The guys prepared themselved for our pregame all on their own. And they were ALWAYS ready to give a great pregame show when it was our turn to take the field. You know why this happened game after game? Because there were no egos on this team. Hell, sometimes you can WIN the game before it even starts with a sharp, crisp pre-game. I will go on record right here and say ‘FLIP” was the reason there was always a great pre-game and the reason that there was always a certain confidence and calmness about our players that kept them from ever getting too anxious about ANY game or situation. “FLIP” was a HUGE part of the success of our team(s)……

The problem is……….I still don’t know what the hell “FLIP” is……………..so could someone please explain to me what the hell it is/was in case I am ever asked again?

Bull Oxen Gets Branded

Posted: February 12, 2011 in 1991, BullOxen, Hank

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.”

“Short-Hop Him!!!!!!!”

Posted: February 12, 2011 in No Way!

I always enjoyed watching our new recruits in their first season. They weren’t really aware of “how we do it” at Verdugo. Sure, they had the uniform and everything else, but they didn’t really know “How we roll” at Verdugo. It was fun watching their faces during the first few games of each season. The smile they’d get on their faces when they’d hear one of our veteran players say something to another player or coach that just totally crossed the line. They were like “wowwwwwwwwww”…you can say that here?” So it was a great dynamic….the veteran players who had already spent a summer or two at Verdugo showing the ropes to the rookies.

I particularly liked it when a stray foul ball came over towards our dugout and the new recruit would pick up the ball and make a perfect toss to the umpire or opposing player or coach. Most of the players by then had realized that not too many things bothered me and I didn’t get too pissed off (at least at OUR players) and that I ran a pretty loose ship. However, when one of the new recruits grabbed a foul ball and made a perfect throw to an ump or opposing player or coach I would always say “What are you doing?” I made it look like I was upset….and General would be sitting in the dugout with me just shaking his head like he was all pissed off.

“No, no, no” we would say. “Don’t EVER do that again!”

The player would be looking at us like “what did I do wrong?”

And so would begin our first “teachable moment” with our new player.

We would then pull him aside and say………..”dude……this is Verdugo here”………….”you can’t make a good throw to that guy, he’s the enemy!”

“So what should I have done?”………..the new player would ask.

“You gotta short-hop him!” we would say.

The new player would then get this evil little grin on his face and realize that every time a foul ball came over he could short-hop either an ump or member of the opposition. You could just see the guys wheels turning………it was always hilarious.

Invariably, the new recruit was ready to go get just about every foul ball he could his hands on to give that nice “tweener” hop and leave a little bruise mark on someone’s shins, ankles, wrists, forearms, whatever. However, there was still one part of the equation that they never had right until we further instructed them. We would let them unload the first time just to get the feel of dishing out a nice “short-hop.” At this point they were pretty proud of themselves…until I said “what are you doing?”

And so began the second “teachable moment” with the new player.

We would then instruct the player on how to “make a sale” to the person he had just injured. Dishing out a great short-hop is easy……..it’s making the opposition BELIEVE that it was an accident that is the key to effectively “short-hopping” someone.

We would then have several veterans in the dugout teaching the new player how to “make that sale”………

Some guys would instruct about the correct facial expression to make…..or how to have “understanding eyes”……..or how to say “my bad blue”……..a quick wave…….maybe bring the ump a glass of water in between innings just to let him know how sorry you really are. Tell the guy on the other team something like “damn that one just kinda got away from me, sorry man.” But they key thing to do (at least until you turn your back and whoever you short-hopped cannot see your face) is to NEVER SMILE. In fact………how long can you go without smiling? In fact……how long can the whole dugout go without smiling? It became kind of a game-within-the-game. Incidentally, by now you should know who started all of this shit with the short-hopping during our first season in 1990………..yes, it was HANK. And nobody could short-hop someone better than Hank.

It was priceless…….by mid-season everybody had it down. And I would just sit there quietly when a foul ball would roll over towards our dugout. And as one of our guys was picking it up…several other guys in the dugout would cover their mouths and pretend like they were coughing or some bullshit and say “Short-hop him!!!” at a volume that no one could hear except us. Then the player who picked up the ball (while keeping a straight face) would deliver a brilliant short-hop and inflict a little pain on either our opponent or an ump. Then, after the short-hop was completed…the player who threw it (and several other members in the dugout) would apologize and show looks of concern about the well-being of the oblivious recipient. Some guys would even take a few steps out of the dugout to make it look really good…as if they were available to help assist with medical attention if needed. Some guys would even pretend they were mad at the guy who threw it. And we’d all start laughing about it 5 or ten minutes later. And usually laughing HARD about it.

You know, you’re never TOO OLD to short-hop someone. I do it all the time on the golf course…….what can I say? I just can’t help it………….I’ll be 51 here in just a few weeks and I still can’t stop short-hopping people. And they say Golf is a “Gentleman’s Game.”……………..

“I Didn’t Hear Anything”……..

Posted: February 11, 2011 in Behind the Scenes

You know we developed quite a reputation around the league as the greatest raggers to ever play the game. We would literally say anything to anyone and were quite unapologetic about it all. Many people have questioned me about it through the years. People would ask me why I let the guys say all the shit we said. Well, I always would tell them “I didn’t hear anything……….what did they say?”

It could have been an ump, an opposing coach, it didn’t matter. That was always my answer. “I didn’t hear anything….what did they say?”

“What do you mean you didn’t hear what they said?” they would ask…moving in closer to me, always a little righteously indignant about it all.

“I have a hearing problem” I would then explain…………”You know, just a few years ago I was in a METAL BAND.”

“You were?”

“Oh yeah”………I would say……….”I suffer from this degenerative hearing condition called CHS”………

“Really?” they would ask “What is it?”

“Can’t Hear Shit”………..I would tell them.

That would usually get a smile and get me off the hook. But the truth of the matter was…………I heard EVERYTHING. You see, when you play in a band the P.A. System is in FRONT of the band. The musicians on stage only can hear their normal practice volume. All of the painful volume is specially reserved for the audience. So, no…I never suffered from CHS………….and thankfully I didn’t. Because I had a front-row seat to listen to (in stereo I might add) the greatest rags ever heard in the history of baseball. But for those of you who may not believe ‘Ol Gee played in a Band……check out the following video footage we just put up on youtube. Yes-sir-ree that’s ‘ol Gee up there on the left side of the screen with my old band Warrior/Cold Fire. Enjoy!!!!!!!

The Drummer in this lineup we had here (Nick Menza) went on to join the band MEGADETH after we disbanded and played with them for 10 years. As some of you know, I’m now a Golf Pro. People ask me if I’m a “scratch” golfer all the time. “Yes, I tell them……..and I’m also a scratch bass player, too!!!”

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

Posted: February 10, 2011 in "B", 1992, BullOxen, Haggs, Rags/Trash Talk, Yves

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.

Harry Leroy (Insert My Last Name Here)

Posted: February 9, 2011 in Behind the Scenes

Yep………that was his name ……Harry Leroy Magee. My Grandfather. I had to write this story. He’s the guy. Blame it on him. He’s the guy that gave to me the love of the Game of Baseball. Sure, we all know how great The Game is. We all love to play it. But there was no better time when I was a kid and listening to the magical Baseball stories told by my Grandfather (or…..”Grand-Dad” as we called him) Harry Leroy Magee. After you listened to him tell Baseball story after Baseball story….you realized that Baseball was more than a game. Just through his simple words, he brought to life the sights, the sounds, and yes…..even the smells of this Great Game. And to this day, every time I tell a baseball story, I want to tell ’em just like Harry Leroy Magee told them to me when I was just picking up a baseball for the first time back in the 1960’s.

He was (according to his words) a banjo-hitting, slick-fielding middle infielder who was a switch-hitter and took pride in being able to hit the ball the opposite way from either side of the plate. You know, one of those “scrappy” players. He played semi-pro ball. He played hard-nosed defense. He went in spikes up to break up double-plays. He taught me everything about the game he knew. He gave me every tip in his book to give me the edge on my opponent. He was the reason I played my whole career as a switch-hitter. Why? Because I wanted to be just like Harry Leroy Magee. He taught me that no matter how hard you get hit by a pitch, you NEVER let the pitcher know it hurt you.

He tried to push his love for the game on my Dad when my father was growing up. My Dad just wasn’t really into it. So they didn’t have that “Father-Son-Baseball” thing going on when my Dad grew up. I think it created a bit of a rift between them. Then I was born. And all I wanted to do was eat, live and breathe baseball. I think my love for the game actually pulled the two of them closer together. My dad actually became quite a student of the game, and was probably the best hitting coach I ever had. The three of us would sit and talk baseball for hours. And I think that’s what made Harry Leroy Magee so happy late in his life. He just wanted to enjoy “The Ballgame” with his son. Just about every summer he would drive out to California from his home in Tulsa, Oklahoma with his wife of over 50 years to visit our family and watch me play baseball. From the field I could see Grand-dad, My grandmother (who we nicknamed “Ning-Ning”…), and my Dad having a great time taking it all in………..

I found this great picture of the three of us and just wanted to share it with you guys. Three generations all in one shot! My Dad never really liked to pose for pictures. He was always the guy TAKING the pictues. And with his expensive Hasselblad cameras…..he didn’t trust anyone touching them. So the picture here is indeed some rare footage. I look at it often. And when I look at this picture, I cannot help but think of The Game of Baseball. And I cannot help but think of the great stories told by Harry Leroy Magee. And I also look at this picture and realize how at the time of that picture…who would have known that the little kid in the stroller was one day going to coach the Greatest Team, with the Greatest Players, who Played in the Greatest Games ever played? And live to tell the stories RIGHT HERE on this blog?

I may never tell the stories quite as well as Harry Leroy Magee……and I’m not sure ANYONE could. But I’m gonna do my best to try!!!!

We all have stories to tell here. Please share your memories here. We’ve all gone our different paths in life. But we will always have a bond that is held together by the Game of Baseball, the memories, and Verdugo Hills!!!!!!!!!! I encourage you all to speak out……….Thanks to Hagge, Workman, and Canale for breaking the ice and making some comments here. Now………..let’s have some fun with this blog, and tell some stories, Harry Leroy Magee style!!! I’m sure that SOMEWHERE out there ‘Ol Grand-Dad is reading every word………..and smiling!!!!!!!!

“The Saugus 500″………part two

Posted: December 31, 2010 in 1990, Games, Hank

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!

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