I have been searching thru my memory for the details of this same game! I remember using a golf ball, and bouncing it in each square as we named things to match these catagories – but I’m lost for the actual format and basic rules. Anyone else out there remember? I grew up playing this in upstate New York.
I grew up on Linden Avenue in Belleville, NJ. My neighborhood friends and I all played punchball with the Pensy Pinkie. They were the best!! Back then it was almost a right of passage as each new generation of street urchin claimed rights to the open spaces between parked cars. As others have said the Spaldeen is harder than the Pensy, so better for stick ball. We used wiffle balls for stickball. We had houses with windows on both sides of the street and parents to answer to when we broke those windows. ( It seems like that happened at least once a year.) The Pensy was a great ball just to practice eye/ hand coordination by yourself. Throw it up as high as you could than catch it. Bounce it while you walked. Bounce it against a wall as you walk and than catch it. Bounce it between yourself and a friend and play catch walking down the street to get a Coke at the corner store. Pop it out in front of you with as much backspin as you could and make it come back to you. See who could bounce it the highest. And don’t forget “Keep Away” when you just had to pester one of your friends who just got a new Pensy. I am now 49 and living in North Carolina. I recently picked up the Pink Ball Book that has a Spaldeen in it. ( The first pink ball I’ve seen in 30 years.) I’ve been using it to play with my 11 year old nephew who had never used a pink ball. He loves it now! I like the Spaldeen a lot but if I could find a Pensy I would buy it.
I didn’t grow up in NYC. Not even close. But one summer, 10 years back, stickball was a passion of mine. I grew up in PA. My brother, two friends, and I took broom stick handles or shovel handles and discarded and used tennis balls to play our passion that summer of ’95: stickball. We played on tennis courts at The Park where we lived. Home plate was the corner of the court where the lines met. There were no bases; it was more like home run derby. The man playing outfield was dubbed the “robber”. He was stationed in the doorway at the other end of the court where the third base line would have been, had we bases. He had to stay in the treshold there until the ball made contact with the stick. He then was allowedd to field the fly, and if he caught it, that was an automatic three outs. The other player was obviously the pitcher. We never really stressed strategic pitching, though; the competition was between the robber and the batter. You had to hit the ball on a fly out of the first court or it was an out. If you hit the ball into the next court with out it being caught, that was a 1. If it was hit into the next court but over the tennis net, that was a 2. If you hit the ball over the second fence, it was a three. And, if you were lucky enough to hit the ball up onto the “bumps” ( a steep hill containing a road at the top with speed bumps), which none of us , even the stronger ones, were ever able to do, then that was a six. My brother, the strongest, came closest. I am sure that those reading this wouldn’t agree in calling it stickball; it wouldn’t have the nostalgia attached to it that you or they know. I had my own version of stickball. And for the summer of ’95 it was a passion of mine and my friends that we will never forget: the smashing of the dry-rotted tennis balls; the day I caught a fly over my back with my left hand; the time when it rained so much that there were inches of water on the court; that fact that I was so tan that summer my skin could’ve passed for leather. Stickball to us was exhiliration. It was the reason we assembled at noon ever day. I didn’t have a job then, I was 16. I had a passion, though. It was stickball.
I grew up in NW Alaska and we played a game called “Norwegian”. It was played w/a ball and bat and 2 baselines, rather than typical bases. One behind the batter and one where the typical baseball outfield would be. The batter would hit the bat and his whole team would run to reach the outfield base line w/o being tagged. At least that is how I remember it. I am wondering if anyone else in Alaska, Canada, (or Norway?) has heard of this game and could give me info on rules/origin, etc
I grew up on 4th place between courtand smith sts.red hook section. we played fist ball. what a great memory. this was in the 1930s. Iam now 80 years old and still think of those great games we had. the first sewer cover was home plate first base was half way down, second base was the next sewer cover. we were able to what we called cufing a ball by cupping our hand and the ball would curve from left to right. also you could hit the ball with your fist and hit it as far as you could. if you were good you could it two sewers covers. about 200feet. I could hit about 2 and a half sewers. PS I still would Like to find a pimple ball we used.
I grew up on 4th place between courtand smith sts.red hook section. we played fist ball. what a great memory. this was in the 1930s. Iam now 80 years old and still think of those great games we had. the first sewer cover was home plate first base was half way down, second base was the next sewer cover. we were able to what we called cufing a ball by cupping our hand and the ball would curve from left to right. also you could hit the ball with your fist and hit it as far as you could. if you were good you could it two sewers covers. about 200feet. I could hit about 2 and a half sewers. PS I still would Like to find a pimple ball we used.
I grew up in the East New York section of Brooklyn in the 1950’s. Remembered Playing skelly outside on the sidewalk in front of the blvd projects. We made skelly caps from soda caps with the cork still in it. While the crayon wax was still wet we would put a charm that would come out of a gumball machine in it. Loved the game .
I was born and raised in the Bronx for 18 yrs of my32 yr old life. I grew up playings skellzies, scully, etc… I moved away from the Bronx when I was 19, to Pa., the country part, so I hope you see where i’m going with this. When I was a younger kid, we played out in the streets til dark, keeping out of trouble, playing such games as stickball, skellzies, kick the can, slugs, and handball. When I first moved out here to Pa., I never gave thought of my childhood games because I was excited about being on my own. Now that I’m married and have three beautiful children, and becoming a born again Christian, I want to bring back some of my childhood memories not only to my own kids, but to my church I attend. My father-in-law is the youth Pastor to our church, and he has a different age group from 12 to 18, but we also have the younger kids who I know would love this game. Ever since I found this website, I’ve been very excited about bringing skellzies back to our new generation. I have told a few people about this game, and they look at me like I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I told them to remember me, cause I’m going to be the one to bring back skellzies and hopefully make it popular again. Thank you again for this website.
what a great site!! i grew up playing skelly in bklyn in the 70s and i have recently decided to remind some of my old friends about it, maybe teach some new ones about it, and try to bring it back to life here in bklyn. i am also going to try to document any and all of the permanent skelly courts i can find, starting with bklyn, but hopefully covering the entire city. if anyone knows of a few courts in parks or even painted onto the street, please send me an email. thanks so much!
I grew up playing Skully in Brooklyn and Queens in the late fifties. We were never sure how the name of the game was spelled, because there was no occasion to ever actually write the name. We used to melt candle wax into the bottle caps to give them weight, and for some reason, the beer bottle caps were always considered to be the best to have. One of the terms of the game that I haven’t yet seen in various versions of written rules I’ve come across is “Heading for the Hills”. This was when your opponent became a killer and needed to hit you three times in a row to get you out, so you would keeping blasting your own cap down the block so he could hopefully never catch you. “Heading for the Hills” was not really “fair” and usually not allowed but sometimes it was, depending on the mood of the players that day.