Roberto Clemente Baseball

I live in between Ukranian village and Humbolt park.

I was returning from a long walk on a drizzly Spring morning and I passed Robert Clemente High School: a sky skraper on Division and Western, close to the giant metal Puerto Rican flags that arc over the street.

Baseball had begun, and Roberto Clemente has an excellent team, as you would expect of the school named after my favorite athlete, and what you would expect from a neighborhood where kids play baseball and stickball in the streets with impunity.

There was a gigantic crowd and everyone there knew each other. Conversations were 3/4 in English and the remaining part were jokes and swear words in Spanish. The people there are old school, in flannel coats and hats with printing on them that show that they are thirty years old or older. Papas and Abuelos sitting by each other watching the grandkid play. Three large gang bangers shouting advice and encouragement.

It is also very exciting because western ave runs parallel to the left field line; foul ball drop all the time, narrowly missing cars or smashing windshields and causing accidents. The crowd watches in suspense and is entertained either way. The parked cars that get hit by balls receive a round of applause, and the person whose car it is stands up and takes a bow.

A very old fashioned and nostalgic part of me always makes me proud to be an American watching Roberto Clemente play baseball.