When I lived on Broome and Eldridge my Sunday morning routine was completely destroyed when squads of unruly bike polo’er’s would show up to SDR Park to bully 12 year old neighborhood kids trying to play stickball, and 5 year olds trying to learn how to ride bikes off their tarmac.
(imagine this: some guy with a cardboard disc wheel with a skull magic markered on it getting all aggravated- liberalish, faux-messenger, white dude style. “Hey kids listen OK? Like we have a permit to play here man, and if you don’t get out man I’m going to have to get the Park Ranger. I don’t want to, I’m cool you know, but I will get him and send you to jail and call your moms or grandmas or whoever takes care of you.” By this time the 11 year old stickball posse is going from defiant to teary. Next they had to clear out the Mom’s pushing their kids along for the first time with out training wheels-I swear. Even worse, usually a Bike Poloer/Chinese Language gap would make that tough. Awful stuff. A lot of times groups of people on bikes act shitty, but I thought all that stuff was the shittiest group supported behavior I’d seen.)
I used to be able to sit and read the paper and listen to birds and bums fighting in peace-then it all ended because some losers felt the need to impose their dumb ass team vs team jock point mentality on bikes.
(Hey man awesome shot! Totaallly cool brahhhh.)
I get it, you couldn’t make it on the high school football team and you feel the need to compensate-maybe call your mom, tell her you scored the match point in the big, really important E Williamsburg Buttflaps vs the Industrial Park Disc Wheelers bike polo grudge match.
Well fuck man, can’t you join the water polo league at the Y or something.