Bones Brigade Experience
Built to last
McGill nicknamed me Vallel in 1986, he’s always called me Vallel—he’s the only person who calls me Vallel.
The phone rings:
Vallel, you coming to New York City?
Yes!
Annie and I fly to New York. We check into The Standard, High Line. We take the subway to Brooklyn and spend the evening with Lucy and Hayden. We enjoy dinner, a walk along the East River, and ice cream at the very spot George Washington retreated from Brooklyn.
Somewhere between sleep and wake I read the symbolism of a dream. My eyes open to possibility.
Manhattan skyline and coffee—I look down Washington Street from the fourteenth floor and over to New Jersey. Lady Liberty’s torch is illuminated by the rising morning light in the harbor.
I see Lance first—of course I see him first, it’s always as it should be. We hug. He asks about Lucy—yes, she’ll be joining us later today. He gives me a fist bump for family, for friendship, for skateboarding.
At the breakfast table we greet George and Ari, Lance stops by to say hello to Annie. It’s already been a day for the books, and I haven’t even finished my omelet.
Annie and I walk along The High Line, then over to the event at City Winery. Lucy meets us there.
The handshakes, hugs, and stories begin immediately. There is no pretense—I’m a fan as much or more as the next person and grateful to be in the conversation.
Grant Brittain kicks off the proceedings with a slideshow. Caballero, Hawk, Mountain, Mullen, McGill, Guerrero. He shows pictures of Tommy from Huntington Beach that I’ve never seen before. The pictures have a raw intensity—an energy that makes me want to break out in a street session right then and there. And If I’d never known about skateboarding until this very moment, these photos would inspire me to start—the spirit is captured and alive.
The Brigade gets on stage for a panel discussion led by Stacy. Caballero says it was at the Chin Ramp when the group collectively realized Hawk was soaring above and beyond the rest. Stacy says he purposely always filmed Mullen in gritty environments to contrast Rodney’s technical precision and to present freestyle as more relatable—as an answer.
We sit and listen, captivated—we want to hear more of this and less about Lance sneaking in the backdoor. Maybe it’s a narrative dragged forward from a documentary, or perhaps it is what the people in the know really know. But ask us, the fans, the people who really matter, and we’ll tell you that Lance personifies the very best of professional skateboarding and that there is no Bones Brigade without him—there is no asterisk.
Stacy calls out to me sitting in the back:
Mike, what did the Bones Brigade mean to you as a kid?
Everything.
When I saw Bones Brigade Video Show it was like coming off life support—I took my own first breaths and began to live MY life.
Lunch is served. I talk to Glen E. Friedman—he shares a story about Mr. G (Tom Groholski’s dad) that tracks—makes me smile. My roots shine as bright as this moment in this room shines—a continuum.
People share stories of their beginnings—our common ground. This is the bonding agent, from Hawk to Mullen, to me, to you. There’s always a parent, grandparent, an older brother, a friend. Someone who bought that first skateboard for you—shared that first magazine, that first record. None of us are islands. We are in this room because of unforgettable Christmas mornings, birthdays, and summers.
The day ends with a group photo—I can’t pass up the opportunity. I sit down with my heroes, my mentors, and friends. With each I have a history, a present, a future.
As the room empties, I sit and talk with Stacy. I share a few stories I haven’t had the chance to tell him previously. George, Ari, and Michael Furukawa join us. Stacy opens to me, and we can feel each other on a level that time and circumstances have not offered before. Not only did he start my career, but he also unknowingly unlocked the whole span of it. The laughter we share now fuels its future.
I’m gifted one of the event boards signed by the group. I float out of the venue, back to the hotel, and off to dinner with Annie, Lucy, and Hayden.
Sunday morning in New York City. Annie and I walk to Trinity Church and stand before Alexander and Eliza Hamilton’s graves. Then we walk over to the Brooklyn Bridge where a mooring stands in the very spot of the first-ever presidential mansion, where George Washington lived from April 25, 1789—February 25, 1790.
We walk up to the upper banks—open to the public again for the first time since when, I can’t remember. Rendered unskatable, we sit on a bench on an overcast, mild spring day—the perfect temperature and light for skateboarding at the perfect place. I skate it in my mind.
Back in the subway, we head over to Times Square where Lucy is teaching a dance class. We are living in a dream inside a dream.
We walk with Lucy in the rain to Sugarfish for lunch—then take another train to Brooklyn to get coffee and meet up with Hayden.
Later, back in Manhattan, Annie and I go book shopping, eat Indian food, and walk the rain-soaked streets.
In the morning, gray skies envelop the city. We miss our dogs, our bird feeders, the woods. I write a poem:
Bones Brigade (2025)
Stacy and George
George and Stacy
and Caballero
McGill, Mountain, Hawk
Mullen, and Guerrero
Video Show, Future Primitive,
Animal Chin
Good morning,
Mr. Mountain
How They Fly
Between two junkyards
Built to last
Nothing like it before
Nothing like it since
From Kenter Canyon to New York City
Around the world and back again
The old testament
and the new
George and Stacy
Stacy and George
and Caballero
McGill, Mountain, Hawk
Mullen, and Guerrero
I see McGill in the lobby—I thank him for a great event, for having me. Lucy meets us for coffee and croissants before we head out to the airport.
Urethane, urethane baby.
Thanks for reading!
Listen to the Audio Companion to this post here!
Great read and great group picture!
This really makes me happy!