WHAT’S THIS-AGAIN!

Yes, to test you youngsters out there.

I’ll give you a hint. It comes from my buddy Jim Pantelano, and was used often by yours truly in Brooklyn.

Here’s another hint; it is a ball.

Give up?

It replaced the roller skate when I had friends to play with, and when I didn’t! This multi-task object was also an object of great affection, and need. You could play ‘stoop’ ball, ‘hand’ ball, ‘punch’ ball and ‘slap’ ball, not to mention the king of them all; ‘stick ball’!

The Spaldeen was THE ball of preference. You never said ball, you always said: “Ya got a “spaldeeeeeen?” Many times when a Spaldeen was hit so hard it split, we would climb a roof, and look for a ball that was hit out of play and onto that roof a game before. With an old sawed off broom handle that older Sis wasn’t flying on anymore, or Mom wasn’t using to sweep with. Often the newly found ball was an old weather beaten ball that had lost its softness. Hard as a rock, the ball still had life!

In on one bounce it came, off on the fly it went, deep, deep, deep, it flew over to the next street. Two sewers acted as home plate and second base, while a curb or parked car were first and third base. A car moved, no problem, the curb was the new base.

You lined up defensively in a row for the most part.

Stoopball was for two things: self-amusement I, and self-amusement II. Self-amusement I was to spend time by yourself or with an opponent, and generally went five points on a bounce when you threw it against the steps, and one hundred points if it hit the edge of the stoop and flew back to you. You miss the catch, your opponent went to try and beat your score. On the fly was often greeted with: “Ooh, ooh, ooh! You faded back, hands cupped like you were catching rainwater, eyes skyward!

Self-amusement II was where you play the game, not to win, but to rile the person living in the building with the constant pounding of the ball against the stoop. This was often earning the tormenter threats of hot water, death or worst: I’ll tell your parents!”

If you were a girl, you bounced the ball with a little rhyme. As you bounced, you crossed one leg over the bouncing ball without hitting it.

So far, all I recall of being bored was when I got older, and we moved away from Brooklyn. Hull Street was a wonderful paradise for a kid to grow up on.

Please remember my buddies Joan and Anita.
Thanks