Street Courts
Many of the men I met at the match that day said handball saved their lives. It got them off the streets. Kept them off the streets. These casual yet impassioned statements, voiced by men who would hardly be associated with what most consider a schoolyard pastime, give cause to consider the impact of neighborhood recreational spaces.
Drake Park, which has a double-sided handball court tucked away in the corner, is one of a few parks in Long Beach with a designated public handball space.
Manny told me he used to live across the street from the Drake Park handball court. Growing up, he spent his days waiting around until he heard the hollow sound of a handball being hit against the concrete to run out and join whoever was playing. As he said this, that same sound echoed in the background and sweat dripped off his forehead left over from his winning match.
The Drake Park native has become somewhat of a local handball celebrity. He attracts crowds from all over Southern California to watch him play and bet on his skill. His arms are decorated with tattoos of homage to the very handball courts and the iconic Drake Park sign that are inseparable from his identity. As are the scars on his body.
“See that corner,” he pointed behind me. “I got shot on that corner”. My partner asked if he meant to get shot. Manny gave a little nod and replied with, “oh yea, I was out here”.
The park, for people like Manny, is a safe haven from the streets beyond. It is a place that is a piece of the mosaic of identity that makes up a person, that makes up a place.
“I’ve been playing handball for decades. These courts kept us off the streets. Handball saved my life, man.”
Shot on Kodak T-Max 400 35mm film.