I love New York. And I love Coney Island. What is not to like; Nathan's, the boardwalk and much more. My first stop (after visiting my 105 yr old grandmother and my wonderful Aunt Frannie and equally wonderful Uncle Frank) was Coney Island. And what a day. Sunny, sixty-five degrees. I stopped at Nathan's and had two dogs (Peggy is in Seattle!) and walked the boardwalk and saw the sites. I love Coney Island, it is one of my happy places, perhaps my favorite. Yeah, it is run down, scary and has seen better days; but I love being there, people watching (no better place in the world) and just hanging out.
And EVERYTIME I go there I always walk down far enough to see the outside handball courts that are on the non seas-side of the boardwalk and I watch the men play handball. And do they ever play hard. There is a crowd playing every time I go there, no matter the weather. They are not great athletes, they will never be on TV but they play a silly game so hard, like their life was on the line. It is real to them. They play for pride and for something we all need to reach down and get in touch with....they play to compete. They want to feel like winners.
Lets face it, if you can hang out at 2:30 and lay it all out on the handball courts of Coney Island on a Wednesday, you probably do not have that much going on in your life. Most likely not much else in their lives make them feel so good. But there they are every time. Someday I want to dare to go down and play.
Watching them today it made me think about my need to compete. Where did it come from, where does it come from? It made me think of playing ball in the street, it made me think of playing all sports all the time against my brother and whatever boys were in what ever neighborhood I was in. It made me reflect on what drove me, how did it make me feel and why was I doing it? Some day I want to dare to find out the answers to those scary questions.
I love New York. And I love Coney Island.
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