Essay 101 - My childhood

• German Rivera

  Jun 13, 2015

  German Rivera English 101 Professor McBride My Childhood Monday June 13, 2015                                                                                 47 Brighton Terrace My life of physical activity and knowledge of the four major sports was initiated in a small suburban town of Irvington, New Jersey.  Irvington was a blue collar town with sprinkles of white-collar families.  Close knit neighborhoods along with lifelong friends were considered traditional. My family's house on 47 Brighton Terrace was a gray, skinny duplex with a large living room window facing the street.  We lived in the first floor. There was a two car garage seemingly too small even for a compact car.  It had a finished basement with a full kitchen and bathroom and this room saw many a night of playing board games or just hanging out.  The lot had a sloping side and back yard  and during winter with two feet of snow, would provide a great sled track.  This non-descript house in a row of houses was important for its location.  Because of the abounding amount of kids that lived on the block, all would usually congregate in front of my house before embarking on our sports adventures. Playing sports of any kind was the glue that held our neighborhood  together.  There was camradeship and sticking up for  your friends.  Each neighborhood fielded a team and we were very competitive and sometimes fights would erupt because of pride and youthful  bravado.  But for the most part, we hung around within our own block most of the time contemplating how to score a goal, to pass the touchdown, to make that soft jumper or to hit that homerun. As summer rolled around, the sport was baseball.  School was out, which in itself was sheer joy, the sun was beading down relentlessly, days were humid, sweltering and sticky, but you couldn't find a kid inside.  Since all the kids were out there as an overabundance of players but we didn't care.  Sometimes we would play 20 fielders to a team. Girls in short shorts would ask to play and our adolescent machismo would kick in and halfheartedly agree, yet it was feast for our male prepubescent minds.  We would play as many games as we could, get dirty, grimy with cuts and bruises on all our extremities but having the time of our lives. As the weather turn cooler and the vibrant fall colors emerged, we put our mitts and bats away and brought out the basketball and football.  Basketball was our least favorite but we had tons of fun emulating our favorite stars like Pete Maravich, Walt Frasier and Julius Erving.  Throwing behind the back passes, shooting from all angles and trying to drive around three defenders was performed daily in our pick-up games.  However, basketball was just a place holder for the two sports to follow. Football is inherently a dangerous sport where immovable objects  collide and bodies get battered and pain was a foregone conclusion.  But the way we played it growing up was downright deadly.  Tackle football on concrete was the norm.  Torn pants and ripped shirts kept moms busy at their sewing machines.  Though football was wonderful , street hockey,  was our favorite. What made street hockey personally special was the fact that it was the first organized sport I participated in.  I use the term organized loosely .  How organized can a group of 14 years old be?  We were organized in terms of time and location, other than that it was free-wheeling.   Each kid had a passion to play and be the best at their positions.  I was the goalie and the most important defensive player on the team.  While others prided themselves on scoring, I thrived on stopping the balls from going into the net.  Yes, hockey along with the three other sports was the interweaving fabric that ran through my childhood.  I came to this country when I was nine years old from the balmy seas of the Philippines.  Almost immediately, I was cast as an outsider and realized that I had to adapt rapidly. The quickest way was playing with the other kids, in any sport.  As I worked and played harder, I started getting a few friends and after awhile I was accepted and treated as one of the gang. That was over 50 years ago.  I think I can still play each sport in mind but physically, probably not.  Last year, my company had a picnic and a bunch of guys were playing basketball.  I joined them and played well enough to compete  and all my coworkers were amazed that an overweight, white haired software engineer was so quick and nimble.  But my glory only lasted only a few minutes as I was red-faced, bent over and felt like I was breathing through a straw.  In those few moments, though,  in those few glorious moments, I was transported back to the basketball hoop at 47 Brighton Terrace shooting soft jumpers and making behind the back passes to my guys.  

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  German Rivera
  English 101
  Professor McBride
  My Childhood
  Monday June 13, 2015
                                                                                  47 Brighton Terrace
  My life of physical activity and knowledge of the four major sports was initiated in a small suburban town of Irvington, New Jersey.  Irvington was a blue collar town with sprinkles of white-collar families.  Close knit neighborhoods along with lifelong friends were considered traditional.
  My family's house on 47 Brighton Terrace was a gray, skinny duplex with a large living room window facing the street.  We lived in the first floor. There was a two car garage seemingly too small even for a compact car.  It had a finished basement with a full kitchen and bathroom and this room saw many a night of playing board games or just hanging out.  The lot had a sloping side and back yard  and during winter with two feet of snow, would provide a great sled track.  This non-descript house in a row of houses was important for its location.  Because of the abounding amount of kids that lived on the block, all would usually congregate in front of my house before embarking on our sports adventures.
  Playing sports of any kind was the glue that held our neighborhood  together.  There was camradeship and sticking up for  your friends.  Each neighborhood fielded a team and we were very competitive and sometimes fights would erupt because of pride and youthful  bravado.  But for the most part, we hung around within our own block most of the time contemplating how to score a goal, to pass the touchdown, to make that soft jumper or to hit that homerun.
  As summer rolled around, the sport was baseball.  School was out, which in itself was sheer joy, the sun was beading down relentlessly, days were humid, sweltering and sticky, but you couldn't find a kid inside.  Since all the kids were out there as an overabundance of players but we didn't care.  Sometimes we would play 20 fielders to a team. Girls in short shorts would ask to play and our adolescent machismo would kick in and halfheartedly agree, yet it was feast for our male prepubescent minds.  We would play as many games as we could, get dirty, grimy with cuts and bruises on all our extremities but having the time of our lives.
  As the weather turn cooler and the vibrant fall colors emerged, we put our mitts and bats away and brought out the basketball and football.  Basketball was our least favorite but we had tons of fun emulating our favorite stars like Pete Maravich, Walt Frasier and Julius Erving.  Throwing behind the back passes, shooting from all angles and trying to drive around three defenders was performed daily in our pick-up games.  However, basketball was just a place holder for the two sports to follow.
  Football is inherently a dangerous sport where immovable objects  collide and bodies get battered and pain was a foregone conclusion.  But the way we played it growing up was downright deadly.  Tackle football on concrete was the norm.  Torn pants and ripped shirts kept moms busy at their sewing machines.  Though football was wonderful , street hockey,  was our favorite.
  What made street hockey personally special was the fact that it was the first organized sport I participated in.  I use the term organized loosely .  How organized can a group of 14 years old be?  We were organized in terms of time and location, other than that it was free-wheeling.   Each kid had a passion to play and be the best at their positions.  I was the goalie and the most important defensive player on the team.  While others prided themselves on scoring, I thrived on stopping the balls from going into the net.  Yes, hockey along with the three other sports was the interweaving fabric that ran through my childhood.
   I came to this country when I was nine years old from the balmy seas of the Philippines.  Almost immediately, I was cast as an outsider and realized that I had to adapt rapidly. The quickest way was playing with the other kids, in any sport.  As I worked and played harder, I started getting a few friends and after awhile I was accepted and treated as one of the gang.
  That was over 50 years ago.  I think I can still play each sport in mind but physically, probably not.  Last year, my company had a picnic and a bunch of guys were playing basketball.  I joined them and played well enough to compete  and all my coworkers were amazed that an overweight, white haired software engineer was so quick and nimble.  But my glory only lasted only a few minutes as I was red-faced, bent over and felt like I was breathing through a straw.  In those few moments, though,  in those few glorious moments, I was transported back to the basketball hoop at 47 Brighton Terrace shooting soft jumpers and making behind the back passes to my guys.