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RALPH'S SKATE COURT
TENT&PHOTOS BY MIKE BURNETT
BILL (NOT HIS REAL NAME) SUCKED AT SPORTS.
"Nana, I stink at sports," he told his grand-
mother, although "suck" was the word he was
thinking in his head.
"That's OK" Nana said, "You may not be as fast
as those other boys, but you're smarter. And
handsome, oh my!"
But Bill didn't feel especially smart or good
looking when he failed to make neither the junior
varsity basketball team, nor even the sub-par JV
Alternates. Since it was his junior year, there
wasn't much hope that Bill would be shooting
hoops for San Clemente High during his high
school career.
"Bill, uhmm, how would you like to be team
manager?" Coach offered. He had never actually
had a student cry in his office before, and it was
making him more than a little uncomfortable to
see actual tears dripping down Bill's pudgy
cheeks. "Yeah. It's real important. You get to ride
on the bus to the games and everything."
Did Bill ever! He attacked the manager posi-
tion as though he was working for the Chicago
Bulls. Folding towels, gathering balls, holding
Coach's clip board-he was in heaven. And even
though the other guys didn't exactly treat him as
one of the team, many of them had stopped call-
ing him "towel boy." Heck one of the team's
stars, Kurt Roper, even gave him a not-totally-
horrible-nickname-Sparky.
It was soon after this time that Bill began
thinking about his future. He admired Coach and
his ability to regulate the team. But more than
that, he liked his strong sense of discipline-fair
but firm. Then, after watching The Fugitive Bill
realized what was to be his true calling. He was
going to become a police officer.
"I'm going to be a police officer!" he would tell
anyone at school who would listen. "Yep, by this
time next year, I'll be at the Academy." He got
his hair cut into a crew cut and started reading
gun and military magazines. He even ordered a
bunch of official replica Police Academy T-shirts
out of the back of Police Gun Magazine and
wore them to school every day. He also joined a
paintball league.
Graduation didn't come fast enough for Bill.
And although his first Police Academy applica-
tions had been rejected due to his weight, he was
sure he could get it in check by the following fall.
Undaunted, he bought an exercise tape called
Tae-Bo and was taking numerous criminology
and psychology classes at a nearby community
college, as the admissions people had suggested.
"It's not going to be easy," he yelled at Nana
I over the loud techno beats of his Tae-Bo tape. "If
it was easy, everybody would be a peace officer!"
"That's fine," Nana said, "But I still don't care
for all this punching and kicking in the house!"
Bill also did independent research by never
missing Cops or WCW Smack Down.
Turns out Bill didn't even have to wait until
fall. The very next week Nana clipped out an ad
in the paper saying the San Clemente Police
Department was looking for civilian officers for
Parks and Rec. security duties. Bill was at the
station the next day before they even opened.
Being a civilian security officer wasn't exactly
all that Bill had imagined. He didn't even get a
gun. It basically entailed driving around to the
town's various parks and looking for rule break-
- SAN CLEMENTE, CA
helmets were required to use the park.
"Can you read?" he'd yell at the violators. "OK,
Who here can't read?" Even worse, almost all of
the rule breakers had smart mouths. Of all the
things Bill couldn't stand, t was smart-mouthing!
"Alright Mr. Smartmouth!" he'd tell them as he
made them sit on the curb by his car. "You've got
a real smart mouth, don't you?"
Many times, Bill was all ready to let someone
off with a warning but inevitably they'd start
smart-mouthing; usually something about not
needing to wear their safety gear 'cause the park
is only four feet tall, or not needing to wear their
knee guards 'cause they've been skating their
whole lives. He had the same answer no matter
what they said: "I want you to go over and read
what that sign says! Read that sign!"
If that didn't shut them up, the tickets would. Bill
went from issuing two tickets in four months, to
issuing ten or fifteen a day-all from the skate
court. What was a boring job turned into a full-
time vocation of pure police work! At first, some
IF THAT DIDN'T SHUT THEM UP, THE TICKETS WOULD
BILL WENT FROM ISSUING TWO TICKETS IN FOUR
MONTHS, TO ISSUING TEN OR FIFTEEN A DAY-
ALI. FROM THE SKATE COURT
ers. And although there had been an early high
point when Bill had come upon a couple of
teenagers making out after hours in the baseball
field parking lot (he'd gotten an eyeful on that
one, let me tell you!), his day-to-day usually
involved making sure trash cans were kept
empty and that no one was wearing dark-soled
tennis shoes on the city basketball courts.
"God would rather light a candle than curse
your darkness," Nana assured him. And wouldn't
you know, she was right! For the very next
month the city finished construction on the city's
first skateboard track-the Ralph's Skate Court.
On the opening. Bill knew that he was going to
have his hands full. Not only were the skate
court's patrons a largely unsavory-looking bunch,
they seemed to delight in violating the rules. As
was clearly posted on the big sign at the skate.
court's entrance, knee pads, elbow pads, and
of the more lecherous skaters fooled Bill by claim-
ing they were wearing knee pads under their over-
sized jeans. Regular pant checks put that little ruse
to rest. On a couple of occasions Bill even had to
restrain violators who didn't think they needed to
stick around for their humbling walk to read the
sign. He was glad he'd watched so much Smack
Down then. Put 'em in a quick camel clutch and
see what happens to their smart mouths!
"If I can prevent just one kid from falling and
splattering his brains all over the concrete," Bill
would often say, "then it'll all be worth it! Yep.
Someday these kids are going to have kids of
their own and they'll thank me because they're
happy and productive instead of having splat-
tered brains all over the place."
"You're so right, Billy!" Nana said. "I'm so
proud of you! Let's go to Pizza Hut!"
And they did. And lived happily ever after.
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This sidewalk surfing thing seems to be catching on. San Clemente's newest extreme sports training facility.
Breakin' the law, breakin' the law. Ed Templeton picks up the gap bonus on this padless ollie across the channel to noseblunt slide.
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