My first friends in Queens were from South America. They knew soccer and introduced me to the game. We played in a small grassy area behind one of the apartment towers where we lived. These were impromptu games, "unorganized activities" in bureaucratic jargon, and they were certainly not as serious as the basketball games in the public school playground a block away from our soccer patch. I didn't think any of us had any talent for the sport, but Harvard offered one of my South American friends a soccer scholarship.
The basketball players were obviously talented, and came from all over the city to play on Sunday mornings. They played hard and without mercy. At least two players who eventually made NBA teams were among the playground athletes I saw my first autumn in New York. Harvard never approached any of them; Tobacco Road schools were more like it.
I stopped playing ball in high school, opting instead to throw shot put. That sport and I were definitely mismatched. One day I ceased throwing a lead ball into the dirt, and took up golf. I played with a cross-eyed guy who could drive a ball straight down the fairway, something I rarely did.
After a summer assault on New York City's various public courses, I concluded that round ball sports were not for me, at least as a participant. That left water sports and ice skating. I stunk at both of them. My last stand was whiffle ball. I was pretty good at that, but that fling lasted a summer in Wisconsin. After that, I returned to New York, and I never attempted to play a round ball sport in the city.
PS. The photo shows the apartment complex where I lived in Forest Hills during my pre-teen and teen years. The grassy area was behind the building on the right; the city playground was also in that direction.
 |
No comments:
Post a Comment