Wednesday, December 23, 2009

The Boys of least what's left anyway.

This is part of what will be a continuing effort to bring you the glorious baseball past of Brooklyn and greater NYC.  Climb aboard the BrooklynTrolley on my trips to explore baseball archeology.

This mural can be found on the side of a building where Ocean Avenue, Flatbush Avenue and Empire Boulevard converge.  It's painted only 3 blocks from where home plate at Ebbets Field once was, at the corner of McKeever Place and Sullivan Place.  The wall with the Ebbets Field lettering is located in the parking lot of the Ebbets Field Apartment complex.  Intended or not, the wall symbolizes where the right field wall once ran parallel along Bedford Avenue.

I'm out to find whatever I can.  It's easy to understand how whole civilizations get lost.  In any era, it's not the erosion, weathering, destruction incurred my man or nature, or neglect , abandonment or even apathy that affects us and our institutions most.  You, me and all things are powerless against it.  That "it" is very simply,  TIME.  For every wound Time heals, another is opened.  I'm one of those Brooklynites, upset Brooklyn lost their beloved BUMS, to L.A. no less.  I still have neighbors and know folks in the neighborhood, who still wax poetic about their Dodgers No-More.  They moved a profitable team.  Sure Robert Moses was unmoving in negotiations for a new park location within the borough.  I hold him largely responsible also.  But it was still Mr. O'Malley's decision to move a very profitable team and take it away from a fan base that loved, supported, cherished, suffered and literally lived and died with them.  O'Malley took them away from fans who looked out after the players if they lived on your street.  The block's kids all played together.  Trust me, nothing was gonna happen to a Brooklyn Dodger if he lived on your block.  And as fact, leaving on their way to the park, several Dodgers took the train to the field and everyone made sure they got to Ebbets safe.  Don't take my word for it, this is what the people who were there tell me.

As a kid I hated the Dodgers.  I still do.  But back then I had no idea why, I just did.  I remember a game at Shea in 1976 I went to.  It was a June night game, Mets vs. Dodgers with my POP, his cousin and my friend.
When my friend and I finished our soda, we poked out the bottom of the wax paper cup and used it as a megaphone.  I couldn't stomach Steve Garvey.  Every time he'd get up I'd announce through my cup, "Now batting #6  Steve GARBAGE! -  Garbage,  #6."  When you're a kid it makes for a hysterical night.  I don't remember who won.  I think I was too busy being nine years old.
I guess hating the Dodgers is just in the Brooklynite's blood.  I didn't know and didn't care then why I hated them.  There is no doubt why I can't stand them today.

..but isn't Hate just a fuzzy baseball term us fans use?

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