Prison Softball Games Hit Home : Lakewood Legend Lures Signal Hill Team,Gives Players Lesson on Life Decisions

On a hot and dry Sunday morning, a three-car caravan of players from Curley’s Bar and Grill slow-pitch softball team of Signal Hill pulled up to the Federal Prison Camp on old U.S. Highway 395 in Boron, 30 miles west of Barstow.

Nearby, across a stretch of barren Mojave Desert landscape, was a dusty, wind-swept diamond called Veterans Field.

Thirteen men, all but three natives of the Southeast and Long Beach areas, were about to play a double-header against a pair of all-star teams chosen from more than 520 inmates.

Most of the Curley’s players did not know what to expect on that recent day. But they were familiar with one inmate, Bill Simpson. Simpson attended Lakewood High, where he was an all-Southern Section outfielder on the Lancers’ 1976 CIF championship team. A former No. 1 draft pick of the Texas Rangers, he has served nearly four years of a 10-year sentence for conspiracy to distribute cocaine.

Simpson was the subject of a Times story in April that told of his frustration at never making it to the major leagues and how he became a drug courier for a major cocaine cartel. The inmate softball league was mentioned in the story.

Scott Denhartog, a Curley’s player and a 1986 Lakewood High graduate, suggested that a game be arranged with the inmates. He pointed out that more than half a dozen of Curley’s players had attended Lakewood and several more had gone to nearby Millikan High.

“I’d like to meet Simpson,” he said. “Everyone from Lakewood knows about him.”

Denhartog’s teammate, Toby Sherman, had been a classmate and neighbor of Simpson. Last March, when Sherman and a Times reporter visited Simpson, a prison guard encouraged them to play the inmates in a softball game.

“We get teams in here from time to time,” the guard had said. “We have some good players in here. You would have a tough time.”

The prison--a camp carved out of an old military base--has no towers or gun-toting guards. Its inmates are small-time drug offenders, white-collar criminals and first-time offenders. Former state Sen. Joseph B. Montoya of Whittier, convicted of extortion and racketeering, has become the camp’s most famous ward.

Inmates work during the day and pass the rest of the time playing softball or lifting weights.

In August, Denhartog’s suggestion was put to a vote of the team, which has players from age 22 to 36. The vote was unanimous to make the visit.

“Sounds like a party,” said shortstop Tim Callahan, a new member of the team from Missouri.

It took two months to arrange the games. Charlie Honeycutt, the manager and pitcher and a 1979 Lakewood High graduate, was required to send the prison each player’s birth date, driver’s license, Social Security and home telephone numbers. The prison did background checks on everyone.

Right fielder Mike (Chip) Anderson almost did not make the trip. The background check kicked out four Mike Andersons with the same birthday, three of whom had felony convictions. The Curley’s player turned out to be the clean one, but he took a lot of ribbing, anyway.

The team, which had lost the city of Signal Hill championship several days before, met at Honeycutt’s Lakewood home at 8 a.m. and arrived at the prison at 10:45. The games were scheduled for noon and 2 p.m.

Paul Mohr, a prison recreation supervisor, met the team in the parking lot. The adjacent visiting room was bustling, as it always does on Sundays, and the players were escorted past the visitors’ child-care playground to the Control (headquarters) Building. They had to show driver’s licenses and sign a waiver declaring they were not in possession of controlled substances, cameras or other prohibited items on a long list.

Several rules had been established. The players could wear only what they were going to play in. In the heat, several men donned tank tops. Each player was allowed to bring one bat, one glove and one ball onto the field. No photos were allowed.

Anderson, third baseman Tim Landry and outfielder John Arnold were allowed to keep bags of sunflower seeds. Ron Hall brought in a can of snuff. Several players kept cigarettes.

But Mohr told the players: “If the inmates ask you if they can have sunflower seeds, tell them they have to ask us first.”

Mohr and the inmates made a big deal about the games.

“We’ve been looking forward to this day for some time,” he said, explaining that Curley’s was the first team to visit in the four months he had been there. “Some time ago, I understand, a couple of Marine teams came in here and really beat the inmate teams badly.”

Simpson, wearing a black tank top and sweat pants torn at the knees, appeared at home plate prior to the start of the games.

“I want you guys to know that we appreciate what you are doing for us,” he said.

The visiting players stood along the first base line of the all-dirt field for the national anthem, sung by two inmates. Inmates lined the field from home plate to beyond the left-field fence. Three sections of bleachers in center field were almost full. Inmates manned the wood scoreboard.

Mohr explained that he publishes a list of statistics for each player in the prison’s nine-team league, and that the two all-star teams are composed of the top 24 players on that list.

Warden Larry Taylor threw out the first ball. Simpson, standing on the pitcher’s mound, received the toss with a gigantic papier-mache glove made by an inmate. Popcorn and cola were served.

A portable generator supplied power for a public address system. A pair of announcers wisecracked for three hours until the generator gave out halfway through the second game.

“We’ll be selecting the most valuable player from Curley’s after the first game,” one of the announcers said, “and he will win an all-expenses-paid trip, courtesy of the Federal Department of Corrections, for four months here in beautiful Boron.”

This trip really was not about the games, it was about people. The Curley’s players were edgy about being in a prison camp, but the inmate team seemed nervous, too.

A few inmate spectators gravitated slowly to the Curley’s bench on the first base side. They said little. Then, as Curley’s jumped out to a 10-1 lead in the third inning of the first game, they loosened up.

“Base hits. Base hits. That’s all these guys do,” said a bearded man, referring to Curley’s. Later he confided: “I got three more seasons left in this place.”

Inmates with names like “Doc” or “Billy” stepped to the plate. A giant named Andre celebrated his 26th birthday by putting almost every ball he hit over the 218-foot fence in left field.

Simpson patrolled left-center field in both games and exhibited the range and throwing arm he was so well known for at Lakewood. “Everyone knows Bill Simpson is a good player,” said the announcer. “Just ask Bill.”

After Curley’s won the first game, 14-12, Honeycutt told Simpson, “There’s a spot on our team for you when you get out.” Simpson, who meets with the parole board later this month, thanked him.

Outfielder Eric Arnold was approached by an inmate.

“Hey, man, don’t you recognize me?” the inmate said to Arnold, who grew up in Compton and attended Cerritos High. Later, Arnold explained: “That guy used to date my sister.”

After only one game on Veterans Field, many of the Curley’s players said they felt like they had been through a war because of playing on the soft dirt field. Honeycutt had sore hamstrings from running the base paths.

The inmates won the second game, 15-12. Simpson’s third-inning home run had put them ahead for good.

After the teams shook hands, the inmates returned to their dorm rooms to make one of the three required daily body counts. As he walked off the field, the bearded inmate “with three more seasons” stuck his hands in his jeans and said, “See ya.”

Simpson walked back toward Control, escorted by Mohr and two officers. As he stood in the shade of one of the few trees on the compound, he thanked the Curley’s players for coming.

“I’m glad to see that you guys are out there and not in here with me,” he said. “You made your choices, the right ones, and I made mine. I’m paying for my choice now.”