In a land not so far away, there began a tradition of aimless socializing, mindless imbibing and pointless banter at the beach, while running around in the sand chasing a black and white ball (actually, I couldn’t tell you the color of the ball used in that era so I’m guessing on that last bit.)

The Patriarch, Mr. Joe Finley, created the event with a desire to gather some decent VB players where he would show off his perfected backhand spike and, more importantly, hide from the dreaded corporate accounting practices.
If you’ve ever wondered why it is called “Bonedigger,” ancient folklore suggests we listen to Paul Simon’s You Can Call Me Al.

In Chicago’s early beginnings, you would have experienced growth from 16 to well over 150. It was an event that rivaled no other with long-time Grand Maestro of colorful hair and rap-tastic bullhorn announcements, Marc Kaplanes, at the helm. I was fortunate enough to attend 2 years in a row.

Over the years clans from greater distances joined, moved away, shaped, molded and forged the event till it became the highly sophisticated ritual it is today.

About 22 years ago, the Denver Digger expansion event was born. Chicago Exiles – Cordle, Brandies, Myrna James, and Wooga – banded together to send off the summer in style with volleyball shenanigans in the grass just before (or sometimes when) the snow began to fly.

Never shy about their desire to grow from the few to the many, they discovered virgins were plentiful, allowing the ‘highly sophisticated ritual’ to continue in this new land.

Leadership, once again, changed hands some 12 years ago with Jenn Abbenhaus and myself (long-time Denverite, Ray J) stepping in.
Over the years, a mid-day grudge match was held, pitting the veteran elite Chicagoans against those Exiled to Denver, along with a few hand-selected newbies to complete their teams. The Grudge-Match remained until the veteran Chicagoans became extinct. While the trophy was elusive and bounced between the two cities, I have it on good authority that the last victory belongs to Denver.

It’s an ever-evolving event that has seen the ebb and flow of pig roast after parties, pub crawls, nights at the Dive Inn and tournament-eve house parties. Game day pairings can now be bought or won by gambling in a high-stakes game of Plinko. The finals were originally fought in one game, turned to match play when we found ourselves with plenty of daylight and far too much entertainment to let it end. It was a clutch decision that almost led to Jenn being fired as host. And then there was the year, we played well into the dark, having to utilize modern vehicular machinery to light the court. Every year, there are many stories to tell and new friendships forged.

The Bonedigger and its volleyball community are a catalyst for friendships that span decades. It is the tie that binds us through all the play, extracurricular outings, cocktails, weddings, funerals, birthdays, newborns, baptisms, and BBQ’s. We have created an interconnectedness that has far surpassed the simple intention of the first Bonedigger. That’s because when an idea survives the test of time, it is meaningful: Bringing people together with similar interest(s) and sharing a healthy intention to be receptive and friendly.

It has found a way to perpetuate itself, despite changes in leadership, personnel and the negative influence of the environment. Ultimately, the collective’s genetic code will re-program itself based on the founding principles: aimless socializing, mindless drinking and pointless banter.

From the beaches of Chicago to the grasslands of Denver, we know not what will it become or where will it go next…just that we’ll be there and we’d love for you to join us! Whether you want to spectate, heckle or play, there’s an option for everyone. Click Here to Register Now!