The Prince Alfred Park experience

Yesterday, my friends Steve and Andrew (we call him Spiderman)and I hooped at Rucker Park. Sorry, just kidding. It only seemed like Rucker. Well, kind of.

Prince Alfred Park, located near Red Fern in Sydney, is very reminiscent of New York's famous streetball bastion. Directly behind the two full courts are the subway tracks. Every 30 seconds or so, a train whistles by. There is a large deposit of trash on the train side of the rusty fence between the courts and train tracks, but some trash has managed to intrude the court. Yesterday, with the wind blowing and the sky overcast, blowing plastic bags were an extra defender.

And while the court was empty yesterday (there were a mere four other guys, who we played some 3s with), it is a pretty popular place on sunnier days. When Steve and I first found it last weekend, there must have been 50 cats with their trunks and sneaks on, either ballin’ or waiting their turn. It was the place to be.

Even an apparent homeless man camps out on the outskirts of the court. His tent was there both times we stopped by. Sometimes, you just can’t afford to miss a single game.

Which brings me to the non-Rucker thing about Prince Alfred Park. The ballers. There’s no Goat, no playground legend. At least from what I’ve seen so far. On the backboard, there is a warning that dunking could cause death. How can you create streetball legends without reverse slams and alley oops? You can’t, you just can’t.

So obviously, in order to go down in Prince Alfred Park lore, you got to die. Plain and simple. Now that’s hardcore, Rucker.

To be quite honest, I felt some Rucker in me yesterday. Although I couldn’t hit an outside jumper for my life, when I went up for what is usually a faint-hearted attempt at a block, I felt lifted, soaring two feet in the air to smack this dude’s layup attempt.

“Get that %^$# outta here!” I thought to myself. “Don’t come to Prince Alfred with that weak $%$#”

And that one instance, on the windswept courts of Prince Alfred, will be my PAP moment to remember. I’ll never forget it.

I know that not even a 10-inch growth spurt would ever get me on Rucker. But PAP is playground enough for me. A place where I can establish myself as a streetballin’ legend.

At least in my mind.