The Denizens of Riverside Park

Riverside Park is situated on the south side of Riverside Blvd. and occupies the blocks of SE 1st east to 3rd. Old growth oak trees line the boulevard inside the boundaries of thepark. An ornate activity building with restrooms sits on the southeast end and to theimmediate west is a baseball diamond. Bushes line the south border along a fence which separates the park from an industrial area.

The baseball diamond is the home field for Riverside High School and the Riverside American Legion team, and is used by adult league baseball. It is a hopping place in the summer with players’ friends and families occupying the limited bleacher seating. There is another group of more frequent attendees of these games, who are dubbed the “Denizens of Riverside Park.” They have attended every game played at Riverside Park and are true baseball fans.

Calvin looked out from the home plate bleachers at Riverside Park. He was homeless and lived on the streets, under the bridges,and in the bushes. He liked Riverside Park for its foliage lined boulevard, clean restrooms, roomy bushes and frequent baseball games. His buddy’s, Clyde and Floyd, were sitting with him, in a stupor, drunk from cheap fortified wine and malt liquor. The family and friends of the ball players always talked with them as they had a common language of baseball, yet there remained a socioeconomic distance, reinforced by the lingering smell of stale alcohol and body odor.

Calvin had been drunk and on the street so long he could barely recall when he played youth baseball, but he remained a fan. He was at Riverside for every single game played there for the past 15 years. He was there for celebrations, the fund raisers, the clean up, and the field dedication. He thought of himself as the “First Citizen of Riverside Park.”

Today he was watching the ball game and monitoring his buddy Clyde who was in and out of consciousness and mumbling something about giving them the money for R&R. Clyde,a combat veteran of the Vietnam War, was often overcome with emotions from that experience and received solace to his jagged nerves from cheap alcohol and drugs.

Today, unlike other game days, the bleachers were filled as it was a warm and sunny Father’s Day, an event celebrated enthusiastically by the young adult league players and their dads. Calvin thought that was a pretty good deal for them and he didn’t want anyone upset by his buddy’s flashbacks. He was the unofficial spokesman for this small band of friends; as the leader he maintained a peaceful coexistence with the other regulars at the park.


Calvin recognized the guys on the ball field from their younger days and individual style of play. Jason was the long ball hitter and when batting he would often send a ball soaring through the trees in the outfield, over the fence, and onto Riverside Blvd. Sometimes the balls would hit the trees and bounce back on the field. This lead to an animated discussion about whether it was in fact a home run or an automatic double. Jason played two years of ball in the Southwest United States, but returned to Portland to marry his long time girlfriend Sally, who was now pregnant with their first child. Jeremy was the speedster, when he got on base he was a constant threat to steal. Age and repetitive injuries may have slowed him some, but he was a contender on the bases. He preferred soccer to baseball and also played on the Scorpions, an adult league soccer team. He worked as a mechanic for a Mercedes Benz shop and often helped his team mates repair their vehicles. Andrew was a fast ball pitcher. He was an awesome pitcher and Calvin figured he was born with a baseball in his hand, as throwing came so natural.

Calvin often pondered what it would be like if second base could talk. The base has such an excellent vantage point of the field, sitting right there in the pinnacle of the infield, the center of so much base activity. It would probably observe how the players had aged,some getting slower, but still maintaining their inherent baseball characteristics. It would complain about getting kicked by base runners or knocked asunder when a runner came plowing into it on a full body slide. It would reminisce about all the pick offs it was a part of in hotly contested games. The base would evaluate the play of the shortstop and the second baseman, and figure out whether they covered the ground balls and the throws correctly. It would be there during the no hitters and the blow outs. He wondered if the bases would compete against one another. Would first base think it was superior because it was first or would third base think it was better because it was the last one until home plate. Calvin thought that was a pretty good deal to be a base. He would joke with some of the people in the stands about reincarnation and if he came back it would be as a base, probably second base.

He was awakened from his thoughts by the excitement around him as the father of the shortstop, Jason, stood up and cheered as his son made a great flying catch of a line drive hit between short and the second base. Jason was dusting himself off and his dad was accepting the congratulations of the other fathers. Calvin yelled out, “great catch,” and they high fived. They had talked often at the games, mostly about his son, the shortstop. While in middle school it was about how talented he was and what a promising career in high school he would have, then in high school it was about college and his prospects. Calvin thought he was a great player and always enjoyed those conversations. He knew that Jason’s father was a corporate attorney and had played ball himself at Stanford, was drafted by the Giants, but due to injury never played professional ball. He appeared to respect Calvin’s knowledge and dedication to the game. They had spent many a late afternoon together watching games and now that Jason had finished college and returned home, without a pro contract, they would watch the adult league games together.

Calvin very seldom thought of his own father or his child long ago lost in a custody battle, it was too difficult to think about and usually drove him to the bottle or the meth. When he did talk about his family it had the familiar ring of someone talking about their last oil change on their car, or sweeping the sidewalk. The conversation was devoid of emotion and his affect was flat, seemingly detached from any feeling. He constantly fought demons and tried to focus on the positive in his life, such as pleasant parks, loyal friends, baseball games, and fellow fans to shoot the breeze with about baseball. Today being Fathers Day made it more difficult to focus on the positive, but he was making every effort, with this small community of fellow fans.

The Riverside team was moving ahead, they were getting their “A Game” going and it was looking like a certain victory. The game was in late innings and the fathers and mothers and girlfriends were in those last stages of the game, talking of the great plays, and about the post game activities. Their cell phones lit up as they made arrangements for the dinner barbecues this day.

Calvin was monitoring his friend Clyde who was becoming quite agitated, flailing his arms and talking under his breath. Calvin was worried he would escalate and scare the folks attending the game. He looked over at Floyd, who was resting his head in his hands which were positioned in a V shape under his chin, and decided to let him sleep. Floyd was not one to make much of a fuss. He enjoyed the ball games, even though he slept through most of them, but he just like to hang out and be a part of something. He noticed and sometimes mentioned that Calvin often left him behind. Calvin would chuckle and tell him that was because he usually couldn’t wake him up. Calvin patted Clyde on the shoulder and motioned to him that it was time to go. Clyde, like a well trained dog, stood up and followed him out of the stands to the exit of the park. It was Sunday night and they needed to get busy. Tomorrow was recycling day in East Portland and they needed to get to their jobs as “ independent contractors,” collecting beer and soda containers to turn them in at the local supermarkets for a nickel each. The Riverside Warriors could win without them today.

They shuffled out of the park slowly as Floyd slept on the bleachers, the ball players wrapped up the game, the fans packed to leave and finalize their plans for the evening.

The sun was lowering in the western sky and the temperature was cooling to a very
comfortable sixty degrees. It would be a pleasant west coast evening in Portland.