FRIDAY MORNING ON 5TH AVENUE

Tags

Apartment, Basketball, Black Belt, Bookie, Coffee, Cube Steak, Dee-Dee, Father, Gambling, Georgia Tech, Girlfriend, Karate, Marquette, Money, Mother, Ninth Avenue, Ninth street, Thanksgiving, Windsor Place, YMCA

Day After Thanksgiving…

“Can I have ten dollars?” I ask my mother as she sits on the couch watching television, sipping a cup of black coffee.

Without looking at me, she asks, “For what?”

Every time I ask her for money, she always questions me.

“There’s a basketball clinic tonight at the YMCA,” I replied.

“No, I don’t have it.” She barked as her eyes never left the screen.

I don’t even know why I ask anymore? Just once I want to hear, “Sure, here you go sweetie. Have a good time.”

I mumble something under my breath as I walk away.

Mom ignored me.

Usually after I mumble something she’ll say, “WHAT DID YOU SAY MISTER?”

As I walk out of our apartment she shouts, “GO DOWN TO TIMBOO’S AND ASK YOUR FATHER!”

My father?

I haven’t seen that prick in weeks.

He doesn’t give a shit about me but it’s a worth a try.

I remember he used to come by on Saturday mornings to get me. We’d head down to Timboo’s and I would spend the whole afternoon there.  But before we got to Timboo’s we’d stop off at the Cube Steak on ninth street for breakfast.

Walking out of our apartment, I hang a left on Windsor Place, down the block, past my girl’s house and across seventh avenue.

For late November, it’s actually a nice day. The sun is out and it has to be at least fifty degrees.

It didn’t cross my mind to ask my girlfriend to walk down to Timboo’s with me.  All I thought about was getting the money from my father for the clinic. Besides, I was just with her last night until midnight. She’s probably still sleeping.

When I get to 11th street I make a left and head towards fifth avenue.

Outside Timboo’s there’s a few guys standing on the corner shooting the breeze.

Red D. has a cup of coffee in his right hand. Roger C. is leaning against the lamp post reading the New York Post and Dee-Dee is checking out a hot girl across the avenue.

“Wow, look at that honey over there,” Dee-Dee muttered.

We all look over at her. Even Roger interrupts his reading to take a peek.

“She’s young enough to be your daughter,” Red implied.

“Shit, if there’s grass on the field, let’s play ball!” Dee-Dee insisted.

All three guys laugh. Even I had to smile. And Dee-Dee was right, he was fine.

There’s always hot babes on fifth avenue.

I turn around and look through the front window of Timboo’s to see if my father is in there. He’s always in the same spot at the bar. If he’s not in his spot, he’s on the pay phone by the window.

There’s three guys in there, including the bartender.

Dad’s not there.

“Stevie, what’s up kid?” Red D. asks as he looks over at me.

“Hey Red, you see my father?”

“He’s not here yet, should be here soon though. I’m waiting for him too, he owes me some money.”

Roger picks his head up from the paper. Red smiles at him.

“That was some bet last night,” Roger noted.

“I knew Georgia Tech wouldn’t cover,” Red bragged.

That was some game. I watched the whole thing.

Dee-Dee walks over to me and puts both fists up like a boxer and gets down in a stance.

“Come on Stevie, put ’em up baby!”

I stand there and watch him bob and weave.

Dee-Dee is a black belt and is always looking to get me to learn Karate. Every time I see him, he wants to spar.

He scares me. Not in a bad way but now he starts jumping around and kicking into the air like Bruce Lee.

What the fuck?

I think to myself.

He’ll kill me if one of those kicks land at my head.

Dee-Dee taps me on the head with an open palm and walks into the bar.

I could never learn Karate, I’d get my ass kicked but it would be cool to be able to karate chop someone and peg someone with a flying drop kick.

Plus, no one would fuck with me if I knew Karate.

“Hey kid,” Roger says as he walks past me, stuffing his newspaper in the back of his pants.

“Who you like today?” he adds.

Before I could answer, he’s inside the bar.

Roger is always asking me who I like?

He doesn’t mean which girls I like either. He wants to know which teams I like to win or which ones will cover the spread?

Red’s alone on the corner now, sipping at his coffee as he continues to look around the empty streets.

I’m sure he’s keeping an eye out for my father. Red’s head is on a swivel. Looking left, then right.

My father’s a bookie.

Red bet Marquette last night, he was getting five points. They won the game outright by two.

I have given serious thoughts to placing bets on basketball games. I read the betting lines every morning. I circle who I think will cover. I usually get a lot of games right when I check the scores the following day.

But my father would probably never let me gamble.

Wonder how much Red had on the game?

I hope my father can give me the ten dollars for the clinic.

Hoops135@hotmail.com

NO MEANS NO…

Tags

Basketball, Holy Name, Red's Shoe Store, Windsor Place, Windsor Terrace, YBA, YMCA

During the winter of 1976 the YMCA down on ninth street between fifth and sixth avenues conducted a youth basketball clinic.

“Red, you signing up for the YBA tonight?” Jimmy Cullen asked me, as we sat on his stoop at 175 Windsor Place.

“Yeah, what time you going?”

“I’ll meet you on the corner at six,” he answered.

The corner was Windsor and Ninth, right outside Red’s Shoe store. It was our usual meeting spot.

We had been talking about the YBA for a few days.  They even had a commercial about it.  When I asked my mother if I could go she said no.

“How much does it cost?” was her first question.

“Ten dollars.”

“No, you can’t go,” she replied.

I was crushed.

For the next couple of nights I actually got down on my knees in front of my bed and prayed. I even thought of going to the church and lighting a candle.  When I passed the Jesus Christ statue on the cross outside the church, I stopped, blessed myself and whispered to Jesus.

“Please, tell my mother to let me go to the YBA.  I will be good, I Swear to God.”

Uh-Oh!

Why did I say, “Swear?”

Now I was doomed! I had no shot…

After dinner, right at six o’clock I peeked out my bedroom window facing the avenue and saw Jimmy standing on the corner with a couple of other kids from the neighborhood.  They were waiting on me I’m sure.

I sat on my bed, dying inside.

Mom was in the kitchen washing dishes, I asked her again.  No make that, I pleaded with her. I felt like getting down on my hands and knees and begging.

“Can I please go to the Y?” I asked one final time.

“No, and that’s the last time I tell you, so stop asking me.”

Tears dripped out of my eyes as I turned and walked out of the kitchen, through our railroad apartment and back into my bedroom.  The tears rolled down my cheeks and my eye lashes were soaked.

At 6:10 I looked out the window again, this time my friends were gone.

When you and your friends set a time to meet, you usually waited five or ten minutes for someone and if they didn’t show, you left.

Grabbing my basketball, I left the apartment crying and walked to the boys schoolyard on Howard Place.

Instead of playing ball with my friends at the YMCA that night, I spent the next couple of hours alone, in the schoolyard shooting hundreds of shots.

Respectfully,

Red

Hoops135@hotmail.com

NO ONE LEFT BEHIND

Tags

Basketball, Clinic, Schoolyard, YMCA

Back in 1976 when I was 12 years old, there was a youth basketball clinic at the YMCA on 9th street between 5th and 6th avenues.

A few of my friends attended.

I, on the other hand did not.

How can I not attend a basketball function? I loved the game. The game was all I cared about.

The problem – My mother couldn’t afford the $10 fee.

It amazed me that the ‘Y’ could charge such a high price at the time.

I was sad but eventually got over it because we had the schoolyard!

As my friends went to the ‘Y’, I walked around the corner to Howard Place. The place was empty. It was the middle of December, right around supper time. Temps in the low 20’s.  I had the place to myself.

Within minutes a few kids showed up and we chose up sides for a game of 3-on-3 half-court.

We eventually played Around the World, ’21’ and H-O-R-S-E.

Wednesday morning I conducted a basketball clinic for 4th, 5th and 6th graders at our high school.

It was FREE!

No charge!

Everyone invited…

Respectfully,

Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

SPORT PROSPECT

Tags

Baseball, Basketball, Brooklyn Dodgers, Carl Manco, Colin Quinn, Dan Myers, David Quinn, Frankie Cullen, Jimmy Cullen, Paragon, Park Slope Patch, Sport Prospect, St. Saviour's High School, YMCA

One of my favorite pit stops whenever I get back home is to the best Sporting Goods store in all of Brooklyn, Sport Prospect, located at 362 7th avenue (between 10th and 11th street.)

I first met Carl Manco, owner of Sport Prospect back in the late 1970’s.  At the time I was in the 6th grade at Holy Name and Carl was running a basketball league down at St. Saviour’s high school.  My two good friends growing up, Frankie and Jimmy Cullen played in the league, so I’d go down with them whenever they had a game. I sat courtside, alone on a folding chair, filled with envy wishing I could play.

What was so cool about the league besides the outstanding play was Carl had the standings and scoring leaders up on a board high on the wall for everyone to see. The leading scorer of the league, David Quinn, was one of the best players around. (Yes, David is the younger brother of comedian Colin Quinn)

Carl also coached baseball at Saviour’s. He had the world’s tallest shortstop, Chris Logan (A.K.A., Tiffer)

In my early 20’s while looking for a job, which was often, Carl hired me at Paragon Sporting Goods. I didn’t have a very good work ethic at the time, nor was I fully committed to the philosophy of making a living. My tenure at 18th street and Broadway didn’t last long; I quit after a week. That decision is one of many in my early days that I wish I could get a do over on; little did I realize at the time Carl had put his reputation on the line by bringing me in. I felt that I had let him down.

I’d play pick up ball down at the ninth street Y; we had some great battles with guys from that area. Whenever I’d walk down to 6th avenue I’d always make it a point to stop in Sport Prospect to talk sports with Carl. He’s one guy who has a tight grip on all sports, not just basketball.

Since 1988 Carl has been running a great business. He found his niche, followed his passion and has been a success…in his own neighborhood!

Not only is Carl a great businessman, he’s a great friend.

Matter of fact, while I compose this blog entry, I’m wearing a Brooklyn Dodgers t-shirt from Sport Prospect. And I never had an interest in the Dodgers!

If you’re ever in the neighborhood, stop in and tell him ‘Red sent ya’!

Here’s an outstanding piece on Carl and Sport Prospect written by Danny Myers of Park Slope Patch.

“I see guys walking around with ‘Aeropostale’ in big letters on their shirt” he said. “Why be a walking billboard for Aeropostale when you could be a walking billboard for Brooklyn?”

-Steve

hoops135@hotmail.com

HOW SOON IS NOW

Tags

Basketball, Container Diaries, Facebook, Flag Football, Friendship, Holy Name, Life During Wartime, Nostalgic, Park Slope, Schoolyard, The Talking Heads, YMCA

I don’t know about you, but I get all ‘nostalgic’ deep inside when I hear from someone I grew up with from the neighborhood.  I guess that’s why I started this blog a little over two years ago; I missed my friends and the memories.  (I relocated to East Lansing, Michigan in 1996. Despite what people may say, I’m not in the Witness Protection Program) As I climb the ladder of life (45 years young), I often think back to the experiences that helped shape who I am today.

Whether it’s a surprising e-mail from an old friend, a person asking me to accept a friend request on Facebook, or if someone happens to stumble upon the Container Diaries blog; and leaves a comment, it always brings a smile to my face, not to mention a warm feeling. (Yeah, that’s right, I said a warm feeling).

Catching up with friends I grew up with in the neighborhood is such a wonderful feeling; especially when it’s been over 30 years since I last spoke to that person. Hearing about how they are doing, how many kids they have, and of course their marital status. (Whoever thought they were going to get married while we were hanging out on 9th avenue or in the schoolyard?) Plus, how come no one ever told us how life was going to be in our 30’s, 40’s and 50’s? Shit, come to think of it, I’m still trying to figure out this game they call ‘life’.

It’s an amazing experience hearing from people who I made my first communion with in the 2nd grade at Holy Name.  Hearing from people I argued with while playing slapball in Holy Name schoolyard and of course, people I spent a lot of time with in my teens and early 20’s.  Three different stages of my life; people I lost touch with, but never forgot about them.

Brother Luck was on my side over those years to be able to share good and bad times on a daily basis with great people.  Whether it was hanging out in Candy World on 9th avenue, playing basketball in the Boys schoolyard, flag football in Prospect Park on Sunday mornings, sitting in the back of Joe’s Pizza nursing a slice and a coke or playing basketball down East 5th street.

For all that know me, I was very passionate about sports.  Basketball was my favorite activity. I wasn’t good enough to make it to the NBA (my dream), and my playing career didn’t last very long in high school (7 games at John Jay). But I played all the time.  I went to so many places to play with different kids all over the city.  I took the train to Manhattan, the Bronx, Queens and even drove over the Bridge to Staten Island to play at Cromwell on Saturday mornings.  I played ball down at the 9th street YMCA with guys from 5th and 7th avenue.  I played in 51’s schoolyard on 5th avenue with guys from Park Slope and I also played in 230 park with some Mexican kids who befriended me as soon as they saw how much I loved to play.

Basketball connected me with a lot of people; it was a sturdy bridge that I built over time. The orange roundball helped me form numerous friendships.  This mis-guided, insecure, angry, and envious teen was going with the flow for so many years; no direction, no goals, probably many thought, no chance. All I had was friends and basketball. Little did anyone know that things would turn out o.k. later on in life when I finally “got it.” (Thank you Mary Hogan, the most inspirational human being I ever came in contact with)

Facebook has brought me so much joy (as has this blog). I find myself checking them often (maybe too often). All the people who I have reconnected with through these two outlets have helped me look back at life and try to get a better understanding of who I was, where I’ve been and where I’m headed.  I’ve connected with guys and girls I haven’t spoken to in many years. I’ve connected with guys and gals who I knew from saying hello around the neighborhood but never really had any kind of relationship with and of course there are the people who I always wanted to become friends with but just didn’t know how to.  (Chalk that up to immaturity)

Big shout out to technology for helping me connect with the following: Alex McNeil, Teesha, Doris Bullock, Karen Artz, Liz Peterson from Prospect Avenue, Mary Kawas, Corrado, Paulie Ramos, Richie Ferraiolo, Frankie Lakat, Jerry Cole, Jimmy Vackner, Jimmy Cullen, (A.K.A., Spoony J), Rosemarie Taliercio, Fiore Tierno, Kevin Mahoney, Chris Johnson and many more.

Some of you know that I am currently writing a book (Miss Monzillo is probably so proud of me, I know I was one of her favorites). It’s a novel based on my life as a teenager. Some of the stories and characters will be familiar and some will not. I spent a lot of time with many different people; I guess chalk that one up to my ability to make new friends.

I’ve been fortunate over the years to have a couple of close friends who I keep in touch with on a daily basis like Glen Thomas of Sherman Street. It’s a great feeling knowing that all those years we spent together that to this day I can still pick the phone up and give him a call. (Not to mention a chat on FB) Ask yourself “how many people do you still talk with that you grew up with”?  I think it’s important to reach out to that certain someone you spent a lot of time with; it brings back so many fabulous memories. Plus, maybe someone is going through a crisis and hearing from you may lift them up or even bring a much needed smile to their face.

Facebook and Container Diaries are two great avenues to get in touch with a friend from the past.  Sign up now and search for someone’s name. (be careful what you tell that certain someone who you had a crush on at 12 years old) Check out the comments section after each blog entry here at Container Diaries and if you recognize someone posting a comment, reach out to that person. Why just the other day Sister Barbara formerly of H.N.S. left a comment on the blog; you remember Sister Barbara, dont you? She was the ‘friendly’ nun who DIDN”T wear Rosary beads around her neck.

Catch up with someone from back in the day, it’ll do wonders for you…

“This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no foolin’ around.  This ain’t the Mud Club, or CBGB’s, I ain’t got time for that now…”

-The Talking Heads, Life During Wartime

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

Catch me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter @CoachFinamore

5TH AVENUE FREEZE-OUT

Tags

20th street, 5 and 10, 5th avenue, 7th avenue, 8th street, 9th street, Army-Navy store, Avon, B75, B77, Blimpie, Burger King, Bus Stop, Cadillac, Chinese Restaurant, Daily News, Denis Hamill, Downtown Brooklyn, Felix's Restaurant, Grilled Cheese, ham and eggs, Holy Name, Jerry's Junk-Shop, Jimmy the Cook, Lenny's Pizza, Leopoldi's Hardware Store, McDonald's, Neergards Drugstore, Newsstand, OTB, Pizza, Record shop, Savings bank, St. Francis College, Stavenhagne, Tugboat, YMCA

Do people from the neighborhood still shop down on 5th avenue?

Do you remember how alive it was down there? It was like a different world!

On Saturday’s it was the place to be!

You would either walk down or hop on the B75.

The donut shop on 9th street; I was always good for a dozen! The newsstand on both corners. Forte Bellino always made it a point to stop at the newsstand on the way home from a St. Francis College basketball game. Who remembers the Chinese restaurant across the street from the YMCA? And of course who could forget the ‘Y’.

The small record shop next to the pizza place off of 9th street where I would pop in while waiting for the bus to take me back home. Speaking of waiting for the bus, do you recall the kids who would fish for coins at the subway gratings at the bus stop? These guys would put peanut butter on something and tie a long white string to it and drop it down. We’d be standing there watching these guys fish for what, a nickel, dime, or even a quarter? They’d be there for like 20 minutes trying to pull a coin up!

One Saturday night I was waiting for the 75 which happened to be running behind schedule. With a white box of donuts in my hands I noticed a sweet red Cadillac pull up. I looked a bit closer and the driver turned out to be a familiar face – it was my main man Corrado! He gave me a lift up to the avenue…

If you ventured over to 8th street you usually went to the Army-Navy store or across the street you picked up a Blimpie sandwich. What was the name of the bar where you had to be 75 years or older to enter? I believe it stood between 8th and 9th street. Was it Smith’s?

My cousins, the Leopoldi’s own their hardware store between 7th and 8th streets. Click here for a great story on the family written by Denis Hamill of the Daily News.

The Savings Bank, Burger King, McDonald’s, the Avon movie house, (do you recall the place where they made keys next door?) the huge apartment building on 10th street. The 5 and 10 was on the corner, right where the B77 made it’s first stop before heading downtown Brooklyn. I use to love the Grilled Cheese sandwiches in that joint!

How about Timbo’s, the record shop next door, Sepe’s toy store, Neergards and of course OTB. I’ll never forget making my first wager at the window. I lost $2.

There was an ice cream parlor between 10th and 11th street that made killer shakes!

Lenny’s Pizza on Prospect avenue, 5th avenue Diner with Jimmy the Cook holding it down. I recall sitting at the counter ordering ham and eggs.

The Tugboat, Stavenhagen’s and of course Jerry’s Junk-shop. My mom would score some great bargains.

And if you were down with the 8th grade graduation tradition at Holy Name, you went to Felix’s Italian restaurant on 20th street!

I miss the days of hangin’ on 5th avenue.

CROSSING THE BORDER

Tags

21 st street, 5th avenue, F-Train, IHM, Michigan, St. Saviour, Windsor Terrace, YMCA

(On the neighborhood tour, I left you, the reader, off at Howard Place. For a quick second though I want to take a detour from our scheduled tour)

We can all agree (most of us anyway) that growing up in Windsor Terrace was special. As a youngster the friendships formed, our time with legit cousins, family gatherings a few blocks away (my cousins lived on Fuller Place), the rivals, the fights, arguments, sports played together and of course the all-important love interest.

This morning I asked a friend from out here (Michigan) if he knew another guy from a different area, located about 10 miles away.

“Nah, I don’t deal with those people from (name of area left blank)…

I found it very hard to believe him.

Also, last night one of my players told me they were driving up to where I live to play some other guys. They wanted to see what the ‘comp’ was like and how they stacked up.

Then there’s this policy of living in a certain zone to be able to attend a certain school, or I think they put it another way, ‘Schools of Choice’.

It got be thinking about kids from other neighborhoods.

I’m not sure where the cut-off was/is for Windsor Terrace but areas like 5th avenue, 21 street, St. Saviour and IHM parish were locations I met a lot of outstanding people during my upbringing.

Maybe you met someone in high school, or even later in life when you went out into the workfield, you saddled up next to a co-worker and found out they got off the ‘F’ train at 7th avenue or even Ft. Hamilton Parkway. And of course someone blurted out, “Small world huh?”

I hate that term.

What about when you were a youngster, say ages 13-18? Did you meet anyone from outside of Windsor Terrace?

But before you ventured out, did you have a preconceived notion about that neighborhood? The kids living there? Did you think they were richer, smarter, or tougher?

Was it always on your mind to see what kind of people they were?

Throughout the years I was able to meet guys like Jackie and Billy Ryan, Turk, Ron Hardy, Chris Ryan and Danny Leary; just a few guys from I.H.M. I had the pleasure of hooking up with down at East 5th street park while going out to explore other basketball courts and match up with different competition.

Terry Green, Al, Chris Johnson, Carl Manco, and even Chris Logan; all guys from St. Saviour who I also played ball with down at the 9th street YMCA or even 51’s schoolyard. Carl ran a pretty good basketball league in St. Saviour gym and I think I played in one game total. All I recall is watching David Quinn, Colin’s brother go off every time I made the trek with the Cullen’s to watch them play.

The guys from 21st street, who everyone thought were these rough and tough mafia-type kids with leather jackets and ‘ba-ba’ shoes. They drove around in Monte Carlo’s with music blasting. They hung out on the corners sipping beer and at times would come up to the schoolyard and play us in basketball. It was funny watching them run up and down the court in tight Jordache jeans, wife-beater t-shirt with countless tattoos, numerous gold chains dangling from their beefed-up necks and ‘ba-ba’ shoes without socks.

What’s so special about these ‘neighborhood border-crossing’ relationships is that I still keep in contact with many of them. You know what, after all these years, these guys were no different from we were.

No matter where or when it was, we were always able to branch out and meet other kids from different areas. We hopped on our bikes, snuck on the train, took the bus and sometimes we walked…

I wonder if kids do that today.