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Baseball, Baseball field, Brave New World, Chain-link fencing, Field of Dreams, Little League Baseball, Los Angeles, Phil Alden Robinson
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With the opening of Little League season I suppose the Baseball Association in my neighborhood is quite proud of “their” new field. It is glistening with fresh grass, bright green, with perfect blades all in a row. Of course if it is not open, you have to look at it through a chain link fence; a chain link fence that looks like it should protect a penitentiary but goes swimmingly with the hideous “new” gym, and unused skateboard ramps (honestly someone should steal those). I know the supposed reasons for the fence (dogs disguised as teenagers), and the amount of money put into the field. The irony is that I’m told (by a former professional baseball player) that baseball players do the most damage to a field.
I recognize the change in this old Los Angeles neighborhood with great sadness. Having been born and raised here I’ve seen it go from a true village to a place filled with the new breed of entitled rich. How is it possible to live in a town filled with families whose children play baseball, but also families that own dogs…with nowhere to let them run around and play? If you know from where I speak, please do no rebut with “there is the front of the park”, that is just insulting.
Where is the sign that says “BASEBALL ONLY”?
Last Sunday I walked a dog along the outside of the field and came across a man and his son playing catch OUTSIDE the field because the gates were locked. What a depressing sight. To add to my dismay, this morning I watched a boy run up to the field with his glider in hand only to find a locked gate. These kinds of sights would be poetic if they were fictional, but they are not.
If you watch the news and see what is going on in the rest of the world, and recognize how fortunate some of us are to live in this town it is truly disgusting to see how people use their money (because they have it) to decide where and when people can walk their dogs or play on a baseball field that was once, for over 60 years OPEN to the public.
By the way, you will never keep teenagers off of a field, and putting up a fence only makes it a better challenge…but oh dear, how will you keep the squirrels out?
I certainly give credit to the diehard locals who go to the field with bolt cutters in hand. If (and when) camera’s are installed I might even provide them with a presidential mask or two.
Shame on you (whoever you are), and shame on the psycho who put the rat poison in the (once public) lower park; and welcome to the Brave New World!
PS. I wonder if it is true that the baseball field (arrogantly dubbed “Field Of Dreams”) will be closed on Thanksgiving Day? Does this mean it will be closed on major holidays? I think I will ask Phil Alden Robinson what he thinks of our baseball field.
Build it and they can’t come because there is a fence!
as i always say, thank god for the 70’s, a cherished time for us and our little town. well done, walter.
It is shocking and disturbing. Yes we were very fortunate to have grown up here when we did. Although it is still a beautiful place, it is nothing like it was, and the people are deplorable. The charm and trust gone.
“Mr. Gorbachev, Tear Down This Wall!” I hope your masterful piece gets through the chain link.
It will fall on deaf ears my dear. This is a neighborhood of “hope and change”. The change indicating hopelessness for those with less money, and those with less money have lived here far longer. They give up, sell their modest homes, move to another state, and an enormous mansion erases any trace of their 50 year existence. The only time capsule remains scrawled in the cement on the sidewalk saying “Lisa 1975!” or “Craig 1972!”…
I’ve got the bolt cutters, you’ve got the brains… Let’s make lots of money.
If you’ve got the inclination I’ve got the time…money, money…
Well Walter, i’m not sure were this baseball field is? i think it may be by the high school? I remember that as a wild untouched canyon that tunneled out to the ocean. I could just sit and contemplate the irregular V shape that the mouth of the canyon made with it’s vertical band of blue grey that looked half full of water and the rest sky. I did this from a natural saddle shaped crook in the top of my favorite avocado tree that peeked up out of our sizable orchard that ended at the Conway Ranch fence. There i roamed as a kid in idilic fashion with my fine collie dog, Major, at my side. Just for a little adventure we would sneak up on the Conway’s bull who would be unconsciously grazing beyond the fence. Just a little toss of an innocent rock would bring him steaming like a freight train to get us as we fled away fast. “Those were the days my friend”. I sold the avocados door to door with my Radio Flyer and we never thought of dangerous neighbors, always greeted with big smiles and orders for more. Guacamole was a big sensation when, i’m guessing, in 1946 the “Good Housekeeping” magazine came out with a recipe for this dip that was served on toast? like mayonnaise for pastrami huh? anyway, the real battle cry has to be “We had the best of it suckers!!!” or something like that. love your blog Walter.
I never thought I’d be one of those people saying “remember when” but the day has arrived… Progress isn’t always a good thing. But hey, one good earthquake will send them running!
@Sherry,
The “Field of Dreams” is the ———Park… what was once home to laughing kids and parents has been taken over by a strong thug union of nannies, illegals, and short obligatory single parent visits. You MUST have a cell phone on at least one ear, and master the yell to the kid you don’t want to see that “daddy” is very busy and has to go soon.
Don’t try to crack a smile there or bring your own kids, you will be cast out… shunned and driven from the new designer toys by an army of nannies that check union cards at the parking lot.
I can’t tell you how much I wanted to be an astronaut when climbing the great rocket; a two story place to dream!
Now, you can drive an eco-friendly fire truck and ring a bell. But don’t tell your parents that you aspire to be a working man… For this park to be real, they ought to line up desks in the sand and let the snotty little kids aspire to be white collar criminals.
No debtors jail here, other than the grass as Walter so keenly points out!
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