Category Archives: Stoopball

We played curb-ball in suburban…

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We played curb-ball in suburban NJ. It was also called off the curb. The neighborhoods had sidewalks on both sides of the street. In between the sidewalks and the street was a strip of grass about the same width as the sidewalk. When you were up, you threw the ball against the curb, and it rebounded toward your opponent on the other side of the street. If he fielded it cleanly (either in the air or a grounder) you were out. If it made it pass him, or he bobbled it, you got a single. If it landed on the strip of grass (after flying across the street), it was a double. The sidewalk was a triple, and the front yard a home run. If the ball went the other direction, it was foul. The game was the greatest way to improve eye hand coordination and fielding. I miss it.

Our playing field was sandwiched…

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Our playing field was sandwiched between a five-story Catholic school and a six-story tenement. At the base of the tenement building our concrete stoop was located, protruding about four inches from the sidewalk and about three inches back toward the building; it was no more than a foot in length. Practice and precision were the key elements. Hitting the point of the stoop with that gum-colored spaldeen produced nasty line drives that were extremely difficult for the infielder to handle. However, not ever hitter found the point that easily; one had to master the stoop to constantly catch the point–striking the point with the ball was an art in itself. The field was cobblestone blocks (the old city streets before the tar paving), and the grounders were tricky. Infielders developed good hands and good instincts staying with those hard grounders that could shoot upwards toward your face anytime, scooping those grounds off the cobblestone was another skill in itself. The Catholic school was across the street from the stoop and hitter. When we would play with only one or two guys on a team (Not running bases), we’d use these rules: a line drive to the first floor of the school was a double; a drive to the second floor a triple; and, a shot to the third floor a home run. However, if the fielder caught the ball as it ricoceted off the school BEFORE it touched the ground, the hitter was out. But, when we had enough guys to play running bases (usually about five players on a team), we had to resort to the regular rules of baseball. The most beautiful thing about our stoop, though, was that it was next to the corner candy store. A spaldeen, a few kids around, fifteen cents in your pocket, a Saturday–you couldn’t ask for anything better.

I grew up in Brooklyn on…

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I grew up in Brooklyn on Atlantic Ave., near Saratoga, (Bed Sty). I went to PS 87. I don’t remember a “Pinky” we all had Spaldeens. I remember the smell of a new one, just thinking about those games; stick ball, stoop ball, punch ball, box ball and hit the penny brings back fond memories. when we moved to Brownsville, all the kids there had Spaldeen’s too.

Does anyone remember playing…

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Does anyone remember playing Giant Steps? And I had great fun playing punchball, red light green light, red rover, potsy, stoop ball, I declare war on …., hit the penny, hot potato and other city kid games. We really used our imaginations, got lots of exercise, and learned how to get along with others and organize ourselves. I feel sorry for the kids today. They are so programmed by adults.

My name is Don Whelan I…

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My name is Don Whelan I lived at 1419 New York Ave until 1969 when I was 13 years old. I also attended St. Jeromes up until the sixth grade in 1969. I was younger then Bobby Lacourte and Charlie Ambruso but I use to tag along with them and play sports with them. They nicknamed me Quack because Donald Duck had the same first name as me and that’s the noise he makes. We use to play the following sports in the center court of Vanderveer slap and punch ball, hockey, softball. We also use to play stoop ball, scully, johnny on the pony, ring a leaveo, put a coin on the ground and try and hit the coin with a spalding ball and get points. We use to create All Star Baseball leagues from a board game that had a spinner on it. You would place the baseball players round card on the spinner and spin it, I remember a 1 was a home run. I remember during the summer nights our parents sitting in lawn chairs all over the Vanderveer. I remember making go carts out of baby carriage wheels or roller skate wheels and wooden milk cartons. I remember seeing the biggest water bugs walking thru the basements of Vanderveer. Finally when the neighborhood was going bad I remember the cops walking around with german shepards and driving around in scooters. I am now living in N.J. since 1969. These are great memories and a great website. Don Whelan

I grew up in the Alfred…

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I grew up in the Alfred E. Smith Projects (Catherine and Madison Street intersection) across from P.S. 1. Lived there from 1953-1967 when my family moved to Brooklyn. I remember the Essex Street Markets as well as the “pickle man” on Essex Street. If none of you have not seen it, I highly recommend you watching “Crossing Delancey” starring Amy Irving. It was filmed on location! Shows the handball courts on Essex Street and centers around Amy’s character and the pickle man! Used to go with my mom to the Fulton Fish Market (still remember seeing the dead fish staring at me on the ice there! Later on, we bought fish at a market on Monroe Street. The only supermarket in the area was an A&P that was on Market Street and almost directly under the Manhattan Bridge. I played little league ball at Coleman’s Oval near the Manhattan Bridge (off Cherry Street). Played a lot of stickball at Cherry Street Park, across the street from the then Journal American building on one side and Knickerbocker Village on the other. The Journal American building is now the home to the NY Post. Remember the original hand warmers in the winter time? Right. A 15 cent knish off the knish cart! There was so much to do back there: San Gennaro festival on Mulberry Street, Chinese New Year on Mott Street, the Jewish Deli’s (Katz’s and Issac Gellis were my faves). I went to St. James School on St. James Place. That is the same school that Alfred E. Smith went to. It is also the parish that lays claim to the first American order of the Ancient Order of Hibernians. Played lots of chinese handball on St. James Place, on the outside wall of Vanella Funeral Home of all places! Played stickball, slap ball, punchball, stoop ball, all with the Spaldeen. Much prefered that over the Pensie Pinky. I can still hear the echoes of “chips on the ball, 25 cents” before playing a game of ball. Anyone here remember making the chalk socks? You take about 5 big sidewalk chalks put them inside a sock, smash them a bit, tie the sock up and then sneak up on someone and bop them with the sock! It didn’t really hurt but was kind of funny to see the shocked face and the chalk smoke linger a moment in the air over the unsuspecting victim! In my neighborhood we called them Mama Lucci’s. Maybe it was called that because I lived so close to Little Italy. Anyone here remember “salugee”? This was a spontaneous devilish game where you would take a personal item from someone and then keep it from them as you threw it to your friends (keep away). After a while some wise guy would start daring you to “roof it” and you would throw the object towards the roof of the many cold water flats of the area. What rotten kids! I have been contemplating writing a book about growing up in NYC in that time period, illustrating the various street games, rituals, etc. that made that little part of NY so special. If anyone would like to contact me. Bill

It was probably the summer…

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It was probably the summer of ’70, a very hot and humid Saturday afternoon. I had just finished smoking a joint and was walking up Mott Street toward Houston Street, where I intended to walk straight down to Greenwich Village and sit in Washington Square Park for a few hours. Before I reached Houston, a car loaded with a bunch of guys slowed down and one of the guys, Mike Fink, a good friend of mine, called out to me and asked me if I wanted to go up to the Bronx to play stickball. Right behind the car was another one filled with a few more stickball players. The team from Mott Street were desperate; they were short a player, and Mike, who I had known since we were kids, was almost pleading with me to jump in and go with them. Mike Fink was an outstanding stickball player and he knew that I had a little game in me because when we were kids we would always be playing in the streets of Little Italy together. Stoopball, punchball, kick-the-can, stickball–seems we were always rounding the bases. But, that was then, and now I was about twenty and hadn’t picked up a stick in years–smoking pot and listening to the Beatles and Stones had replaced the childhood games. The truth of the matter was, Mike had invited me because absolutely no one else was around the neighborhood that Saturday afternoon. I jumped into the car and the next thing that I know is that I am in the South Bronx on Fox Street. When we had gotten out of our cars, the Puerto Rican players greeted us with handshakes and smiles. I was surprised how well players from both teams knew each other. They were even calling each other by first names. Simply put, it amazed me. The Puerto Rican team was truly happy to see us and get the afternoon rolling with some exciting stickball. Mike, our captain, knew I had always had a problem seeing and catching fly balls, so he stuck me on first base. I played a decent game, hitting the ball hard all four times and collecting two singles, but we got trounced 8-3. Early in the game a funny thing happened to me. A left-handed hitter sent a sizzling line drive off of my forehead. Man, the ball streamed at me so quickly that I don’t even remember moving my hands an inch. The ball stung me with the force of a powerful overhand punch just above my right eye. After ricochetting off my forehead, the balled ended up near home plate. I quickly chased and retrieved it and the batter wound up on second with an easy double. When I walked back to first with the ball in my hand, our second and third basemen came over to me to see if I was okay. With an angry glare, I sent both of them back to their bases before they even got close to me. Their were hundreds of fans lining up both sides of the streets, standing on fire-escapes, and looking out of windows. And, everyone of them knew I must have been aching from the shot I took, but I did not even go as far as touching or rubbing my forehead. I went back to first and waited for the next batter to hit as though nothing had happened. By now, it was very humid and hot, so I took off my t-shirt and tied a red bandana around my forehead to keep the sweat from dripping into my eyes. Then, after the inning was over, and I came up to bat, so many spectators watching the game began chanting at me: “Com’on Samson, let’s see if you could hit.” I lined a wicked singled past first base, and for the remainder of the day, each time I stepped to the plate to bat, everyone watching the game would chant at me: “Samson, Samson, Com’on, Samson hit the ball.” (I had shoulder length hair at the time) In the second game, we were leading 3-0 in the eight inning when an argument broke out and the Puerto Rican team quit. Our guys must have lost about $400 the first game and we scrapped up about $350 for the second. When the game broke up, we split up our money. I was happy to get my $10 back. That second game, I went 2 for 3 with a single and a double. My 2-game totals were 4 for 7 (3 singles and a double), hitting the ball hard six times and dribbling out once. As we rode back to Manhattan, I learned that the Saturday before on Mulberry Street, the Italians home field, the Italian squad quit on the Puerto Rican team, which was way ahead in that contest late in the game. So, that is why the Puerto Rican team quit on us; they got even. It turned out to be tragic because never again would these two teams play each other. True, all of these guys were stickball players, some were great ones, but even more than just ballplayers, these guys were diplomats. Those days–the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s–weren’t the best times for Puerto Ricans and Italians. But, by going into each other’s neighborhoods, which were considered hostile back then, these guys did their best to smooth the relationship between both etchnic groups. They were more than just stickball players–they were diplomats. And, it was a shame that the rivalry between some mighty big men ended on such a sour note. Anyhow, I tip my cap to you athletes and peace-makers from both neighborhoods. You truly deserve it! God bless!!

I know this is weak compared…

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I know this is weak compared to real stickball (beyond weak), but I moved to the Jersey suburbs before developing the eye-hand coordination required to hit a pitched Spaldeen. We used the same standard equipment but the population density didn’t compare to the project and you could rarely get more than 4 guys to play. We hit the ball out of our hand either directly as in “flies up” or throwing it up and letting it bounce a couple of times before getting a “running” start and unwinding on it. We played in the street with home being online with a telephone pole. Everything was automatic (as in our form of stoop ball). Over the wires that crossed the street at the next telephone pole was a homer. Anything on the ground past the infielder was a single as was a liner past the outfielder (one that landed in front of him). Over the outfielder was a double and reaching the next pole but not over the wires was a triple. Great fun it was when most families had one car (if that) and traffic was rare. Jim Mason

As a former brooklynite…

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As a former brooklynite I remember many days playing skelly in the Marlboro housing projects in Gravesend. It’s kinda sad that kids today don’t play the games we used to play and and I’m 30 years old . I mean games like tag , off the wall, stoop ball, asses up, manhunt etc. They mostly are locked in front of the TV . I would like to know the size of the skelly board. I can’t remember and besides every building had a skelly board spray painted nearby , thanks to the ” big kids “. I don’t recall ” out of town “in skelly. What is it ?

Thanks for the rules and…

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Thanks for the rules and pictures. I am 36, female, originally from the Bronx. Just recently I have been thinking alot about the games I used to play in the streets. I lived on Decatur and 211th. We played stoopball, stickball, skullies climbed the cemetary walls, made motion potions.. whatever we could do. Kids now a days, I dunno, too many toys, no imagination. We live in the country now, I just purchased a nok hockey game, like I used to play at The Oval Park. A simple game and my 5 year old daughter loves playing. I would like to teach someone to play skullies with me, I miss that stuff. It was nice finding this website.