Honestly, I've never been to Staten Island. Everywhere in Manhattan is full of flyers that say if you've never seen Staten Island've never really seen New York, but I myself have always cheated. It is clear that if I go there I go turistone, but I'm going to play. I do explain to a friend in Brooklyn who has lived in Staten Island which is the best place to play in the New York borough, and he explained to me word for word what I do and the route to follow. A few days after birth relatively early in the morning from home, I take the green line 6 from 77th Street, change at Grand Central Station, take the shuttle to Times Square, and from there take the Red Line 9, which leads directly to the South Ferry, the port is Staten Island. It is a beautiful sunny day, and the view from the NY Waterway ferry is really beautiful. We pass in front of Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, cross the bay with a magnificent view. Arriving at the ferry terminal on Staten Island, St. George, the most populated island, I see the diamond of the Staten Island Yankees, a Single A baseball team the Yankees organization, the star of fiery derby with its neighbors and enemies the Brooklyn Cyclones in Coney Island, Mets organization and divided only by the Verrazano Bridge. The year saw the first derby between the Coney Island Cyclones and the Yankees (won by Cyclones), and was one of the most exciting matches and feel to which I have ever attend. At the St. George Terminal I take the bus to Oakwood Beach, with the possibility of reaching in Stapleton, a few miles further south and take the subway Tottenville (what, a London derby? Former Stapleton -striker, Tottenville might be the second home of Tottenham Hotspur, away from White Hart Lane). There comes a bus packed, I let him go. Same thing for the next, and that after yet. In the fourth bus I take my courage in both hands and climb in the midst of wild and hysterical ladies students who complain too much mess boys. The trip was incredible, like being on a bus in supporters from the station takes you to the stadium, missing only the iron gratings at the windows instead of glass, and rabbits, which pull the rocks from side streets and then run away. Finally arriving at Stapleton, III & IV district of restaurants and fast food Italian (cliché on cliché, in all New York Italian mafia film on meetings and meeting with "business" were growing in an Italian restaurant in Staten Island). I must say that Staten Island does not make me a great impression, chaotic, dirty and messy as any of the other New York boroughs. After about half an hour of waiting at the subway Stapleton, finally comes the train to Tottenville. Another fifteen minute drive along the coast, with beautiful views of the Verrazano Bridge, where part of the Marathon every year, without a doubt the most beautiful bridge in New York. My stop is Dongan Hills, about half of the island, get out, and here the landscape is finally what I expected, and as everyone had described it to me. Villettine well maintained, perfectly manicured lawns and small swimming pools in every back-house, garages and unfailing well-painted American flag in order, those who have it is in, who did not have is out. I'm on Avenue N, I make a coil between the houses in the south, are almost certain to be on the right track, but for security prompt to a stereotypical man, white, overweight, with a mustache, and that is watering the lawn . While giving me the information involved, not requested, a neighbor from the veranda of the house next door, to point out the claim. This new character is just like the other man, only more bald, more or less confirms what I said the first, more or less the same words. The two smile at the fact but made it clear that you hate, is perhaps one of Michigan State and Maryland and one of the wives, attached to the formalities of a good neighbor, trying to negotiate with their husbands, organizing dinners that end up in heated discussions on time sports between the two men. Immersed in this fun and exhilarating thoughts more than ever, I realize you have arrived on Jefferson Street, Show me that my friend from the crime scene as a basketball. I run almost immediately in the Douglas MacArthur Park, a beautiful park with two baseball fields and two basketball courts, in a truly wonderful, in the countryside and surrounded by clean and tidy. The playground is very well kept, four baskets and blue area on concrete shell, and some boys playing. Everything seems different here, the air (and this is sure), the game, the attitude, everything is different. After a few shots on a yellow field goal with two other boys waiting to play, before playing a three against three in the court procedure, and those closest to the baseball field. You play well, quietly, perhaps too easily, something is not right. Something is missing, I realize after a few possess. Lack the will to win, they lack the eyes of the tiger. Here nobody played to death like all the other playgrounds of New York, mistakes and laugh, unmarked hard your opponent, you care, do not really want to win, and everything is ugly. There are a couple of young African-Americans looking to make some show, are very gifted athletically, jump like a dream, we are constantly looking for the alley-hoop was missing, he is one out of fifteen, and certainly does not change the substance of the chemistry of the game. A Staten Island is another game after a game I have deliberately removed from competition, I could not enjoy myself. I also played well, but I did not like the quiet environment. I watch others play, I notice that someone puts their feet when the ground after a jump shot or a defender challenged by the entry slightly, it lays out the shirt, and check if minuzionsamente tore something.
Daniele Vecchi, Playground in New York
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