Entering the Pirates Den 1988 - 1990

a rag tag crew on a rudderless ship.


Pirate (Privateer) - Definitionany player, or coach affiliated with Peninsula football teams that pillaged and plundered through MDFL league schedules from 1988 through the 1990 seasons. One who robs or commits illegal violence on the gridiron, at sea or on the shores of the sea. Pirate priorities: "booty, grog, mayhem, saucy wenches," etc..
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August 1988 - A year removed from college I became restless. The monotony of the day to day gave me the urge to do something more; my long running iron addiction had begun to lack the ingredient of purpose. A hobby wouldn't have sufficed; I needed a more fulfilling cause.
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I overheard some of my weight training buddies talking about a new football team supposedly starting nearby. I recall wondering, if there was a new football team who'd they play against? If it wasn't the NFL, or the NCAA, what was it? Was it Pop Warner for grown men? 
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Continued...
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The Virginia Peninsula
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Newport News, VA - There I was, standing in a dusty field behind Huntington Middle School. Rumor had it this is where the new football team was supposed to meet; a kind of tryout, slash, combine. I'd never heard of a start-up football team so I didn't know what to expect. There appeared to be the makings of a team out there since thirty-five or so guys were present but with no uniforms it seemed like a rag-tag bunch. One fellow seemed as if he was stumping for a leadership role just by talking loud.
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Huntington High School (circa 1946) Newport News, VA
a high school from 1927 to 1971 before becoming a middle school; it is now closed
The original practice site of the Peninsula Pirates (1988-1990)


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Huntington Field - Newport News, VA 
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The Virginia Peninsula isn't very big so everybody knows everybody, at least in the football world. There were groups of guys standing around chatting as if they'd known each other for years; I even saw a couple of guys from my gym. Even the "try out brothers" were there; the try out brothers were a couple of former college guys who'd entered each and every pro football combine held in the mid-Atlantic region the past few years. 
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Many of the athletes present had played in one of the college programs in the mid-Atlantic region; a handful of them were right out of high school. Standing around waiting for one figurehead to show up reminded me of the days of yore Pop Warner teams when the athletes were plentiful and the coaches were few. So far, everything seemed unorganized so it was hard to imagine where this was headed. 
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.Peninsula Football History...
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Huntington High School (circa late 1950's early 1960's)
It was one of four Peninsula area schools that competed
in the segregated Virginia Interscholastic Association.




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Don't let the old black and white photos fool you
Athleticism was the same those days.
Trucking a defender was just as much fun then as it is now.




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 Article: Huntington High School Mirror Vol 20, No. 2 (Feb - March 1960)

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Huntington H.S. majorettes (circa 1958 - 1960)
My mother (Rosetta C. Brown) is second from the right.

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Entering the Pirates Den (continued)...


After an hour of waiting the fellow supposedly running the show still hadn't shown up. Bored from standing around, a group of guys challenged another group in man to man; boasts were made, lies were told, a quarterback stepped forward, and it was game on. I hadn't played ball in four years but I jumped right in with the defensive backs. I was rusty but after the physical stuff started I was good to go.
Later, we formed two teams so we could show what we could do playing as a unit. Nobody had any pads or equipment so we agreed to "two hand touch" to stop ball carriers. After a few plays heated trash talking and one-upmanship ensued. Soon the game had become full contact; it was a symphony of pride induced violence and I was right in the thick of everything. My day ended after I levelled a ball carrier and got into a shouting match. Then I stalked off the field; from what I'd seen there'd be no football team.
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No equipment? No problem.

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Beverage of champions
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Unbeknownst to me, many of those guys on the field that day would go on to form the core of the Peninsula Pirates. Led by the late Frank J., that group would blow through the 1988 MDFL league schedule with an 11 - 0 win loss record to become MDFL Champions; the team's first year voyage would end in a post championship loss to the Scranton (PA) Eagles played up at their place.
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Apparently, my hunch about the team's need for a unifying figure was correct; it takes a certain kind of swashbuckler to command the respect of ruffians. Some say, it takes a pirate to lead one. 

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The Peninsula Pirates roamed the MDFL from 1988 to 1990
and had three different Head Coaches "captains,"
Frank J. (1988-89), Nelson H. (1990), and Dr. Michael Edwards (1990)
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Back story...

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PENINSULA PIRATES OFFER 2ND CHANCE

By SKIP MILLER Daily Press Columnist

August 24, 1989

Welcome to the football world of the Peninsula Pirates. There are no paychecks in this world. No bonuses, no front-page headlines, no marching bands, and no luxury accommodations. There are the blistering heat of an early-evening practice, the boring bus rides, and the broiling sun of the Saturday afternoon games. Mostly, there's fun for the players who’ve found a second chance.

Maybe they played on one of Hampton High School's state championship teams. After high school, they took work instead of college. For them, football was over at age 19 or 20, just as they were entering prime playing years. Maybe they played some college ball and they were good enough to attract attention from the National Football League scouts. They still believe they still can play in the NFL.

Dreams befitting Don Quixote? Jousting with windmills? Sure, there's some of that. There's some of that in every man's endeavors. But a group of young men putting the blitz on a dream seldom accomplish what the Pirates have done. The Pirates, in their second year of existence, have never lost a game. Last year, their 12-0 record made them champions of the Mason-Dixon Football League. Last week, they opened the 1989 season with a 40-6 thumping of the Carolina Redbirds.

Saturday, at Newport News' Todd Stadium, they'll take on the Tidewater Sharks, an off-spring of the old Norfolk Neptunes. Kickoff is 1:30 p.m. The demise of the Neptunes, two years ago, is how it all began for the Peninsula Pirates. A group that had played for the Neptunes approached Frank Johnson, a former assistant coach at Hampton High School, with this: They wanted to keep playing and wanted to know if there was a way to get a semi-pro football team on the Peninsula.

Johnson and Nelson Holden, Sr., kicked the idea around and concluded there wasn’t a good reason the Peninsula shouldn’t have a football team. They lined up financial backers and then sought entry to the Mason-Dixon. "That's where some big hassles started," Johnson said Wednesday. "We needed $1,500 for a membership fee. Insurance and some other stuff cost us $3,500.

"We came up with the money by sacrifice. I remember the Daily Press covered our first game in early September last year. The headline was, "Rusty Pirates defeat Richmond. You don't know how right that headline was. We didn't get our uniforms and equipment until two days before the game. The game was the first hitting we’d done."

What followed outstripped everybody's visions. An undefeated record for a team organized on a shoestring budget and playing its first season in one of the better semi-pro leagues in the country? "As a co-founder of the team, I felt we proved what can be done if you're willing to make some sacrifices," Johnson said. "As a coach, I felt we’d really accomplished something.

"We proved that, on the Peninsula, we have athletes as good as any in the country. One magazine ranked us third in the nation. Of all the semi-pro teams, we were ranked third. That made me feel good for these young men." Unfortunately, success has not eased the financial strain. Last week's trip to Durham, N.C., put a $1,200 dent in the budget - $600 for the bus and another $600 for meals. "At this point, we're as far into the red as we can get," Johnson said. "Nobody has ever gotten a dime.

"I'm a football coach and an educator. I don't know anything about business. I'm doing this because I really believe in the players we've got." Players like quarterback Scott Woodlief. He played high school ball at Hampton and Kecoughtan. Then some college ball at Ferrum. In last week's opener, he passed for three touchdowns and ran for another. Late in the game, one of the Redbirds slugged him in the mouth and busted his lip. After the game, Johnson took him to a Durham hospital to have his lip repaired.

Woodlief was back at work Monday and back at practice Tuesday. It's players like Woodlief who give Johnson a gnawing hope for Saturday's game against the Sharks. "We're hoping we can showcase these young men and somebody in the community takes notice," he said. "Maybe someone would become a corporate sponsor and help us out financially."

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Mason-Dixon Football League
Past Champions 1978 - 2015

..1978 - Franklin County (PA) Minutemen 
1979 - Fredericksburg (VA) Rebels
1980 - Virginia (Manassas, VA) Chargers
1981 - Richmond (VA) Bruins
1982 - Richmond (VA) Bruins
1983 - Arbutus (MD) Big Red
1984 - Arbutus (MD) Big Red
1985 - Chesapeake Bay (Norfolk, VA) Neptunes
1986 - Triangle (Durham, NC) Cardinals
1987 - Baltimore (MD) Bears
1988 - Peninsula Pirates (Hampton/Newport News VA)
1989 - Washington (DC) Stonewalls*
1990 - Tidewater (Norfolk, VA) Sharks
1991 - Baltimore (MD) Bears**
1992 - Peninsula Poseidons (Hampton/Newport News, VA)
1993 - Metro Washington (DC) Bulls**
1994 - Charlotte (NC) Blast
1995 - Fredericksburg (VA) Generals
1996 - Fredericksburg (VA) Generals
1997 - Richmond (VA) Ravens
1998 - Arbutus (MD) Big Red
1999 - West Deptford (NJ) Broncos
2000 - West Deptford (NJ) Broncos
2001 - Prince William (VA) Monarchs
2002 - Virginia Mutiny
2003 - New Jersey Broncos
2004 - Richmond (VA) Ravens
2005 - Richmond (VA) Ravens
2006 - Prince William (VA) Monarchs
2007 - Richmond (VA) Ravens
2008 - Virginia (Hampton, VA) Crusaders
2009 - Arbutus (MD) Big Red
2010 - Virginia (Hampton, VA) Crusaders
2011 - Northern Neck (VA) Rivermen
2012 - Virginia (Hampton, VA) Crusaders
2013 - Virginia (Hampton, VA) Crusaders
2014 - Virginia (Hampton, VA) Crusaders
2015 - D.M.V Elite
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*Peninsula Pirates lost in Championship final
**Peninsula Poseidons lost in playoffs




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Entering the Pirates Den (continued)...
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Fast forward (August 1989) - It's the summer of 1989 and the one man show who is the Pirate's mercurial coach and owner, the late Frank J., (aka the captain) decides the time is right to leverage the 1988 Pirates team's success by cashing in his chips; but I digress. 
I'd recently heard about the Pirates winning record from an old college teammate ("Sammy") who played on the team. I was stunned. I couldn't wrap my mind around how my instincts could have been so far off. I'd totally forgotten about the team since I hadn't heard anything about them in the local media. How did they ever get that outfit off the ground? Perhaps, I should have waited until they got into pads. That's what happens when you're impatient; you miss out on things. Bored with training with no purpose, I showed up at the field again. ...That's how it all started.
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The Mason-Dixon Football League
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John B. Todd Stadium - Newport News, VA
Original home of the Pirates.
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Vanishing treasure (1990)
advanced high seas accounting
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1990 - At the conclusion of the 1989 season the one man show coach, the late Frank J., moved on. The 1990 season is when Frank's former sidekick, Nelson "sticky fingers" H., stepped in and began pursuing his own visions of football grandeur. Somehow, I ended up handling the team's fundraising and some other management details; I was also the team captain and a starter at cornerback.
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Initially, all was good in the new regime with the team getting new maroon jerseys along with a new helmet logo. Our roster had swollen to seventy or so players and we'd begun to attract more pedigreed athletes as well. To generate funds for operational expenses I put together a team program with assorted sponsorship packages; I also agreed to be one of two parties with the ability to move money in or out of the team's bank account.
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"Operational" expenses
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The 1990 Pirates...
maroon jerseys and a new captain


SEMI-PRO FOOTBALL TEAM DEFENDS DIVISION TITLE

By TONY ANTHONY Staff Writer

August 8, 1990

 

The Peninsula Pirates, a semi-pro football team in the Class AAA Mason-Dixon Football League, will hold a public awareness day Saturday beginning at 11 a.m. at the Huntington Middle School field in Newport News.

The Pirates will open their 1990 season Aug. 25 at the Washington (D.C.) Stonewalls. The Pirates will play their home games at Todd Stadium in Newport News. The Pirates' first home game is against the Richmond Ravens on September 8 at 2 p.m.

In all, the Pirates will play five home games. In addition to the Richmond game, the Pirates will face Durham on Sept. 22, Tidewater on Sept. 29, the Metro Bulls of Washington D.C., on October 20 and the Virginia Invaders on Oct. 27.

The Mason-Dixon Football League has been in operation since 1978, with the 10 teams representing four states and the District of Columbia. The York (Pa.) Lions, the oldest team in the league, enter their 13th season. The Pirates were 9-2 last year, and were Southern District champions.

The Pirates won the league title in 1988 (11-1). In 1989, they lost out to the Washington Stonewalls for the title. Other members of the league include: Arbutus AAAs of Baltimore, Triangle Cardinals of Durham, N.C., and the Baltimore Bears. Some of the top players on the Pirates' roster include wide receiver Joe McGlone of Hampton, quarterback Scott Woodlief of Hampton, quarterback Wayne Johnson of Williamsburg, linebacker Greg Cary of Williamsburg, running back Sammy Johnson and placekicker Carl Bryant of Newport News.


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The 1990 Peninsula Pirates @ Todd Stadium
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 The great "Piggy bank" scandal...
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Hampton, VA (October 1990) - It was mid-October and we had a few games under our belt. The team was in good spirits because it was game day and we were waiting for the charter bus that would ferry us to Richmond to face our old nemesis the Virginia Ravens. The guys lived for that game day experience.
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The Virginia Ravens (circa mid 90's)
Coached and run by longtime owners Hal and Mary Lockhart the Ravens are one of the more storied football clubs in the Mid-Atlantic region.
Hal Lockhart is in front on the left.

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The routine for away games was for players, coaches, and staff to meet at, then called, Coliseum Mall parking lot for a charter bus. As always, our crew had come from near and far with the expectation of going to battle. Travel arrangements were handled by our dear leader, Nelson H..
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The agreed upon high noon departure time sailed right on past us with no sight of the charter bus, or Nelson; however, nobody was concerned because it was a beautiful day and it was unimaginable to consider anything would keep us from something we'd all so looked forward to. Another thirty minutes passed and a few of the team's jokesters began to openly speculate various scenarios involving our missing leader and local strip bars.
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The 1990 Pirates coaching staff
(left) Nelson H., (front) Coach Taliaferro, (rear) Mike Swain, (right) Dr. Michael Edwards




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It wouldn't be a football tale without strippers



At one hour past the scheduled departure time we knew something was wrong and our giddy excitement was supplanted by a mix of anger and disappointment. Realizing there'd be no bus the players wanted answers; I assured them that I'd figure everything out as they, grudgingly, dispersed. Next, I notified our Richmond opponents of the situation; then I called the MDFL commissioner. Afterwards, I checked the team's bank account. 
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Our treasure had vanished. We'd gone from league contenders to forty knuckleheads with matching jerseys within the flash of a clandestine withdrawal.
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All hands on deck...


The forfeit had a traumatic effect on the players; for many of us, the time spent working towards a common goal was a powerful draw; guys commuted extreme distances and had made major adjustments in their lives to be a part of that experience. Some players had multiple jobs and a family; others had multiple families and no job. We were true pirates in every sense.
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With our ship under fire from all directions it was either fight or swim. With the next game looming in a week we had to right the ship and plug all the leaks; the season had to go on. Backs to the proverbial wall, our crew grabbed buckets and started bailing. What had started out as a structured, forward thinking, fundraising campaign devolved into something different. Our dilemma had forced us to develop a new synergy; as if written into a script, new financial support materialized, seemingly, out of thin air. Some pirates solicited their employers for contributions; one of whom, would go on to become one of the team's future owners. You can't make this stuff up.
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The lone positive of our team's bare financial cupboard was finding out who possessed the, oft overlooked, ingredient of character. As we all know, before a ship sinks the rats disembark. Tellingly, Dr. Mike Edwards hung around and was, thus, retained as head coach and figurehead; we appreciated his guts for showing up every day, even when we had multiple addresses. As a team, somehow we managed to orchestrate a "roving band of pirates" type of organization that limped from week to week through the remainder of the 1990 MDFL schedule. Apparently, the last incarnation of the Peninsula Pirates had evolved into more than just Xs and Os.

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The MDFL Commissioner, Victor Lent, and Tidewater Sharks General Manager Tom Overstreet, were a big help with all their assorted advice; I talked with them often through the remainder of the 1990 season. As a result of the infamous "piggy bank" scandal a secret compartment inside my car's console became the Peninsula Pirate's new safety deposit box for post-game beer money..
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There were additional repercussions from the "piggy bank" affair; apparently, our wayward captain had been writing rubber checks and hadn't actually paid anyone. Consequently, our financial bridges were so thoroughly scorched that our team insurance policy was cancelled so we were unable to use Todd Stadium any longer for home games, which was fine because it was much too expensive anyway. Officially, we pirates weren't supposed to be using any of the City of Newport News' parks or other facilities for practice either.
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Undeterred, we solved our problems with simple solutions. Our remedy for the ban from city property was to stay a step ahead of city officials by rotating our future practices among local parks and schools. No lights? No problem, just fire up the headlights. Our lack of insurance didn't faze us in the least. We all agreed not to get injured; we'd become true pirates through and through.
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For future home games two local military bases allowed us to use their football fields and facilities; both Fort Monroe and Fort Eustis were nice enough to oblige us. As luck would have it, both base commanders were football fans and had been following some of our players since high school. All we had to do in return for the favor was admit military personnel to home games free of charge.

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Aside from travel, beer, and the occasional posting of bail, monopolistic officiating crews were our biggest expense; dealing with them was like dealing with the mob. The head referee from Norfolk would call me like clockwork, usually, late in the evening on the Wednesday before a home game. "Are we on for Saturday?" He knew I was in a pinch.
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Everyone sought a payday



His asking price? A cool hundred bucks a piece for six guys for two hours of work; what a racket. Eventually, one of our opponents introduced me to another officiating crew out of Richmond who did the honors for half of what the Norfolk mob was asking. It wouldn't be the last of my dealings with that head referee; he'd exact his revenge a year later when he threw, not one but, three flags against me during a critical game (Poseidons vs Tidewater Sharks 1992 @ Foreman Field). After he threw the first flag he wouldn't look me in the eye; I hadn't had an illegal contact call made against me playing cornerback prior or since. During the game, when I got to the sideline after the third flag, I didn't tell anybody because it was so unbelievable. My coaches pulled me in and out of that game like a yo yo. You can't make this stuff up.
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Late in the 1990 season the Pirates roster thinned a bit as a result of the instability. With the team's priorities having shifted from winning to survival a new dynamic emerged where some of the lesser talented players brought in "donations" from their employers and leveraged a "pay for play" scenario. Desperate times call for desperate measures so we obliged; although, I can remember a situation when one of the younger guys on the team complained that a hundred bucks was a little high for one half of playing time. 
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Post piggy bank scandal the Pirates didn't travel well often causing manpower shortages for away games; it seems the further the distance the game was, the fewer guys traveled. Once, we drove seven hours all the way to Raleigh, North Carolina with only fourteen players; that day, the "pay for play" guys got more than they bargained for. I recall the same kid who complained about donating a hundred bucks for one half of playing time begging to come out of the game in Raleigh. My words of motivation to him: "Shut the f**# up and get back there at safety."

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Fort Monroe VA 
Site of the final football game played between the Peninsula Pirates and the Northern 
Virginia Invaders at the conclusion of the 1990 season.
Fort Monroe was at one time the southernmost outpost of the Union Army 
during the American Civil War (1861-1865)

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The Peninsula Pirates 1990 season culminated in a dramatic come from behind victory over the Northern Virginia Invaders played at historic Fort Monroe. Quarterback (#5) Wayne Johnson tossed the game winning pass to all-purpose (#12) Robert Barnes just as time expired. We celebrated by tossing Coach Mike Edwards into Tide Mill Creek adjacent to Fort Monroe field. With that plunge into the creek the final incarnation of the Peninsula Pirates ceased to exist.

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The three year voyage of the Peninsula Pirates had come to an end

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And the moral of this story?  
Pirates don't make good bookkeepers.
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1990 MDFL
All League Team - Offense 




1990 MDFL
All League Team - Defense

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All natural protein...

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LB (#40) Greg "Bull" Cary (Pirates & Poseidons)

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Greg "Bull" Cary, the de facto leader of the "Williamsburg crew," would roll up to practice each day in his old red pick-up laden with burly linemen. Whenever his truck broke down the five strong Williamsburg crew were a no-show at practice.
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One afternoon before practice I noticed Bull eating what appeared to be miniature chicken drumsticks out of a container. He offered me some and I accepted; as I was eating them he asked me how they were. I told him they weren't bad but they were some of the smallest chicken drumsticks I'd ever seen. Bull's response "those are squirrel legs."
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Inland Piracy...
a tale of one fine evening on a pirate ship



Seated by the window, with the mini dreadlocks, is defensive back (#35) Tim J., AKA “Slice.” I got to know Slice during my playing days with the Peninsula Pirates. Back then (pre-piggy bank scandal), the Pirates practiced at Huntington Middle School. Slice was an athlete with an edge who, by many, was misunderstood; although, over time, I began to see the method to his madness.
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I think some of the pirates players were a little intimidated by Slice because of his outwardly hard demeanor. He was known for yelling profanities for, what appeared to be, no reason. This often took place during warm-ups before practice. A typical episode would begin with Slice yelling “Get off me!!” as the team was stretching; the thing was, nobody was within five yards of him. My teammates and I would always look around at each other baffled.
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During pre-game the Peninsula Pirates would always listen to the hardest, most non-conformist, music we could find to set our mood. Naturally, the music selection was Slice’s territory. A man keenly in tune to outwardly rebellious forms of self-expression Slice would, without fail, choose Public Enemy’s Fight the Power to “get our minds right.” Then, he'd then select the audio cassette from my car's console with the seriousness of a bomb disposal expert. 
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*Disclaimer*
"Dead men don't tell tales"



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Forgive me for the following digression, but my next tale revolves around the bus. I apologize if I get some of the names of those present wrong; after all, this happened many years ago. For the Peninsula Pirates a charter bus doubled as transportation to and from games and a mobile bar, the latter mode, often, on the homeward journey. 
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One particularly memorable trip occurred my first year, 1989, while my teammates and I were returning from a night game played in the western suburbs of Richmond (VA). For visual reference try to imagine combining the original Star Wars bar scene with that of Animal House, and Cheech & Chong's car all stuffed into a bus. Among those present that evening was All MDFL offensive tackle Anpho J. (#78) who ruled the roost from the back of the bus. He's difficult to see through all the smoke hanging in the dim light, but you can easily hear him; his proclamations boom above all else.
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Anpho's court consisted of the bulk of the Pirates' offensive and defensive lines, guys like OG (#74) James S., OT (#63) James F., C (#50) Tracey W., OT (#77) Lavone “Bonnie” T., and NG (#64) Mac P.. Admittance to the back of the bus club was based on a variety of distinguishing criteria, the first being you had to weigh over two fifty; the second criteria was more nebulous and probably had something to do with the dark violent world in which men in the trenches thrive. 
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I can't remember which of the numerous Peninsula football clans (the McGlones, the Woodliefs, the Howells, or Holdens) were present on the bus that night, but there were other culprits. It was no coincidence that the smaller skill position guys were huddled together at the front of that pirate ship on wheels; I always sat close to the exit myself.


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One fine evening on the seas of Southeastern Virginia
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Everything necessary for a mobile red light district was present on the bus that fine evening; the requisite grog (alcohol), forty or so pirates, strange tobacco, and Chuck Brown thumping on the sound system. Somebody had even smuggled in a couple of wenches. All of these ingredients combined in a small enclosed area and marinated in cheap malt liquor; truly, a slice of Americana. The game, a loss, was all but forgotten. It was party time so you name it and it was happening on that bus; although, I have no recollection of what actually went down because I'd had a few myself.


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Someone had stuffed wide receiver (#82) Joseph "Monk" B. into an overhead storage bin; judging from his laughter he liked it up there. For some odd reason, on the homeward route, the bus driver decided to take rural back roads through Dinwiddie County that night.
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The beer supply was running low decreed Anpho from his throne in the back of the bus. Shortly afterwards, the bus dropped anchor at a small mom and pop grocer where thirty or so drunken pirates disembarked. What ensued was right out of the plunder 101 textbook. The libation starved pirates set about cleaning out the store's stock of alcohol via cash and five finger discount. I remember wondering to myself if that was really how the pirates of yore had lived.
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After relieving the grocer of his entire inventory of spirits the giddy pirates re-boarded the bus laden with their ill-gotten gains. Moments later, with the wind at our backs, our debauchery re-gained momentum. Within minutes a scuffle broke out but no pistols were drawn; however, the ruckus had begun to grate on the old bus driver’s nerves. Without looking back, the bus driver pulled a pistol out and placed it on the dashboard. Nobody seemed to notice but me.
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Shortly thereafter, a scuffle broke out over a wench. Annoyed, the bus driver pulled off the highway into the parking lot of a rural market; then he stood in the aisle with his pistol pointed downward and warned us if we didn't STFU somebody was gonna walk the plank. At that very moment, one of Mayberry’s finest, a Dinwiddie County patrol car pulled up red lights a twirling. I knew, if that police officer got even a whiff of our bus, with all the strange tobacco hanging in the air, the open alcohol, and at least one firearm onboard, it wouldn’t be a good situation.


Officer Fife sensed something fishy going on

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Immediately, I dashed off the bus followed by one of my teammates and we strolled over to the police cruiser. "Evening officer"..."We were just...blah, blah, blah"... Officer Fife just sat in his cruiser, looking straight ahead; he seemed more satisfied with our cordial interaction than interested in the bus. Luckily, the bus was downwind. Having never left the comfort of his cruiser, and content with his acknowledged authority, the officer tipped his hat and bade us a safe trip. Soon afterwards, the anchor was raised, the music volume was restored, and the Pirates sailed on into the night.
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…A night on the seas of Southeastern Virginia.
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Established 1978

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Historic significance 



The Mason-Dixon Line 

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The Mason-Dixon Line and other territories - Late 19th century
The Mason-Dixon Line, at various times, served as a boundary between colonies, a border between a slave state (Maryland) and a free state (Pennsylvania), and a geopolitical line separating the Union North from the Confederate South.


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The present day Mason-Dixon Line
 at the Pennsylvania Maryland border

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