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Many people wouldn’t advise a scrawny white boy to play street ball in the Bedstuy neighborhood of Brooklyn, NY – But if you listen to the stereotype, a scrawny white boy might miss out on one of the greatest experiences of playing ball in Bedstuy…
I went out and bought a new leather bound Spaulding, strapped on my Kobe Bryants and all black gear to match. I show up at the park on one of the sunniest weekend days New York’s seen in a long while. The play ground was surprisingly empty except for a group of kids shooting around. I started warming up and It wasn’t a minute before a couple guys walking by shout “Yo, can we run with you?”, “Yeah, jump in” I said. The little kids stopped to watch there brothers, and dads play – hoping to join in some day soon. The neighborhood pimp, slangers, young chillers, and modest crackheads all showed up to watch, just people walking by looking for a scene or something to do. The crowd talked shit and cheered us on – There was the “Back in my day” guy, the “Don’t make me come out of retirement” guy, and the “My grand kids would run circles around your ass” guy. A couple young kids on the court next to us broke out into a fist fight at some point. Instead of intervening, we told them what to do “Stop kicking him!”, the smaller of the two kids won by default…he bit down on his hand Tyson style, they went right back to playing basketball five minutes later. It’s the type of thing that I remembered as a little kid around here – builds for strong kids with character. Someone soon pulled up blasting Notorious BIG from his blacked out Lex with the chromed out dubs and booming sub. The ice cream man pulls up after seeing the crowd. We played an aggressive, solid game without any whining – penetrating, blocking, chasing down the ball every time. I got up in my defenders face every time, never making it easy or painless to get by. He pushed me, and I always returned the favor. It was a good show, but our team lost by one shot, 20-21. We all gave props to each other in the end for playing an intense game.
I have trouble figuring out why stereotypes linger for someone like me to be afraid to show up to the park in this area alone. People don’t just randomly get beat up or shot at around here…Well, for the most part – but what’s life without even a little sense of danger? Show up to a park out here no matter who you are with a ball and your game, and watch things happen just they way they do. It’s one of the true Brooklyn experiences you can’t get anywhere else.