by Rafael Figueroa
I grew up in time to see all the great players playing in their prime. My heroes were Jamaal Wilkes, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Julius Erving, George Gervin and Kareem Abdul Jabbar. I grew up in an era where strangers in the parks steered you away from drugs and taught you the fundamentals of basketball instead of trying to sell you drugs. The only drugs available that they had were a mean jump shot, a nasty cross dribble, a hard pass on target. Those fundamentals were addictive to us and we practiced every day until we were able to play with our neighborhood heroes on the same court. I was addicted since 6th grade and all I wanted to do was make a name for me in the streets as one of the top players on any court in any place at that time. I grew up in the suburbs of Boston, Mass.; a small town called Framingham, Mass. to be exact and from the very minute we got out of school in our minds there were just 3 things. One, finish our home work; two do our chores, and three run like heck to the courts. For those who were fortunate enough to have a bike they would ride like the wind to get a good court side seat at Arlington Park main basketball court.
We would get there and there would be a boom box with music blaring with the funky sounds of Earth, Wind and Fire (Boogie Wonderland). The sun would be beaming and all were gathered to see the best street players from our small town replicate moves that we just saw last night done by Magic Johnson or Larry Bird. I remember going on a high school field trip to Cambridge Latin High School to watch the high school phenomenon Patrick Ewing play. We were awe struck watching him score 58 points and 27 blocked shots on the opponents but we had our own hometown heroes as well that could hold it down with the best of them.We had several town heroes that had a brush with bad luck and didn’t make it to the show (NBA).We had some that could have gone to college but were financially challenged at the time to pursue a partial scholarship. We had Rufus Harris drafted out of Maine University by the Celtics in 1980 and only played a partial season before he got cut. We had Bo Hinton one of the top recruits in High School along with his brother Al Hinton, Hector Sanchez and Herminio (Ice) Rodriguez from Keefe Technical High school, top scorers in their division being recruited by Georgia Tech, North Carolina State, Louisville and Kentucky. I could go on and on with the numerous amounts of talents and heart breaking stories of not finishing or making it. We all have a friend or two that should have been in the NBA or top College but for one reason or another it didn’t happen.
These men helped me become a better person, a better player, a gym rat and a fierce competitor. When I say we used to get out of school to play ball, I meant we used to watch for hours because our skills weren’t honed enough to be out there playing at their level. They played ball from 2pm to 5pm and all the 13 year olds through 16 year olds watched or played on the side courts if there were any available. We watched them and then we would mimic their moves and practice any particular shot that we saw one of them do that made you say LOUDLY with out you meaning to, OHHHHHHHHHH!!
We finally got on the court after they left, we would play until sundown. People would walk by and would hear our sneakers squeaking in the darkness, our courts had no lights. You might catch a glimpse of the opponent when a car drove by but we mainly played by listening to our voices because it was so dark. We all knew each other; we all played hard and furious for those several hours until we each heard our mothers call for us from the apartments across the streets. One by one we would leave but the game would not stop. It would be a 4 0n 4, 0r a 3 on 3 or a 2 on 2, until it was just a one on one. We would get to our houses tired, no shirts on; sweaty, we had torn up canvas sneakers that our mothers bought by the pound at a store called Bradlees, they used to call them (skipies).My mother would by a bag of 8 pairs have us pick a size that fit us and then pass them on to the neighbors so that her kids can have some sneakers as well. In those days your neighbors were more like your aunts, cousins and uncles and we all took care of ourselves and helped each other out. Some were lucky enough to have sneakers made by Converse some of you call them Chuck Taylor’s. But that’s how we lived and what we longed for was playing basketball, anytime, any where, any place chump! We shoveled snow just to clear the court to play in the winter time, we played through rainstorms and thunder as furious as if it were sunny.
I remember on weekends we used to travel to Boston or any suburban town with in a 100 mile radius. We were looking for ball players in any park that were rumored to have game just to bust their behinds playing ball and have bragging rights over them. We came across a few that were worthy competition of course and there was nothing like the feeling of going into somebody else’s hood and breaking them down in basketball and then earning their respect afterwards. Those were the day’s brother, young and invincible, that’s how we felt. We protected our home court with every ball player and talent we had when rivals used to come and challenge us in our own park. When you’re a baller word gets around where you play at and people come looking for you from miles away, street legends. It’s up to you to defend your street rep for your hood, your boys and your park, there was never such a thing as backing down no matter how much better they looked or were. We played hard from start to finish.
We love this game, we have all grown up and we still love this game as much. Now our bodies don’t allow us to perform the way we used to at one time, being past 40 is a challenge weather you’re in shape or not. We have to sit on the side line like we used to when we were young, just to play a half hour pick up game. We are the last to be picked for a team, we still show a burst of our glorious days when we hit a 3 pointer. Then it all fades away when we take our second jump shot and it lands in the rafters realizing our prime time is gone. This is the game that I love and I dedicate this article to the Arlington Park Crew, to my child hood friends Hector ( Bird ) Sanchez, Papo ( Iceman ) Rodriguez and Julio ( Dr.J ) Resto. Keep Ballin !!!
