What it meant to be back in the Lafitte. 

I just wanted to open my door and say “Mama, I am home from school.  I am about to change my uniform and go play baseball.” But no, that door will not open.  If I try I just chill in this thing and be like, “Man, I miss this.” 

The best days in the Lafitte were after school playing the best game in the world—baseball in the Miro

Court on the Wild Side. For us, baseball was like bathing—we did it every day.   First, we had to vote on the captain.  It would be girls and boys, but the captain got to pick who bat first.  If he knew you was not that good, he would say, “You bat last.”    It was not a bad thing because you still  got to bat.  We just hate to lose.  My sister Taft would come play sometimes, but she would get mad and  be like, “Fuck baseball.”  I be like, “Why that?” 

And she say, “Man, I’m straight.   I ain’t trippin.”  But that don’t stop the fun.  The game goes on.

Everyone knew Marty was good.  Everytime he’d get the bat, the balls says, “Look for me.”  It used to look like a baby field in the court because the people be on the porch hollerin, “Go, go, go.”  When someone hit the ball, even the police would pull over.  It be out own stadium in the Lafitte.

After the game was over, we cool down for a lil while.  I think about the old men.  The same old guys just used to sit down on the back of the truck with a boom box listening to R&B with a six pack of beer.  They drink and have fun until  the sun goes down.  I never saw them filthy drunk.  When we get hot, we go in the back and buy a frozen cup.  It was only a quarter, so they would give us 5 dollars and say, “Go buy all of y’all one.” It’s like they gave us money so that we would not have to go out there and do something stupid like sell drugs.