This used to be my Playground

This Used To Be My Playground
lyrics by Madonna and Shep Pettibone

This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend
Why did it have to end
And why do they always say

Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask

Live and learn
Well the years they flew
And we never knew
We were foolish then
We would never tire
And that little fire
Is still alive in me
It will never go away
Can't say goodbye to yesterday

No regrets
But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday
Those are words I'll never say

This used to be my playground
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy

This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
I wish you were standing here with me

This used to be our playground
This used to be our great escape
This used to be the place we ran to
This used to be our secret hiding place

This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
The best things in life are always free
Wishing you were here with me

from the movie 'A League Of Their Own', and appearing on the 'Barcelona Gold' album

Today, on my wanderings by unplanned circumstance, I came across a Sports Oval I had not visited in near on 40 years. It was here, as a youngster that I used to come on my bicycle with my childhood mates and get up to harmless mischief. In the summer, it was a place where playing as an opening batsman in the Under 14s Cricket Competition I belted my first 100 (in fact I scored 126 not out and I belted a six into Kororoit Creek which meanders below the western lip of the ground, quite a distance). Being here felt like those years ago were a blink of yesterdays. The concrete Cricket pitch that I somehow smashed those runs upon is still there though tufted now with a thin layer of soil and indifferent winter grasses. It is a Soccer Oval now. Though the echoes of willow thwacking on ball, shouts of "How's 'zat!?" or "Catch it, catch it!" still resonate in memory. It is where I came, as a 16 year old teenager, to nurse a broken heart after the angst of my first romance and where in that pitiful welt of despair, I composed my first sad poem. I still have that searing poem over which I shed copious tears across many hours staining the paper it was written on. I smile reading those lines again. Yet, back then I could not quite understand why the emotions could be rendered in this way. In some respects, I still don't quite understand. It was also a place I let loose my first sky rocket on Guy Fawkes Night - back when it was legal to have fireworks and crackers. There were dozens of excited kids and adults popping off penny-bungers, tom-thumbs, jumping-jacks, fizzers, twirls and sparklers. The old concrete block Grandstand is still there with its many scratched inscriptions on its back wall. I discovered a few still amazingly there that I had graffitied all those years ago, amongst many, and some of the names returned quite vividly prompting me to wonder of their lives? The Cricket practice nets are still standing though riddled with rustic arthritis. Hours into hours I spent bowling in these nets or padding up to bat and pretending I was Sir Donald Bradman (Australia's greatest Cricketer). I imagined (at that time) I was a crafty spin bowler in the genre of Johnny Gleeson or Ashley Mallet (two of my boyhood Cricketing heroes). Of course, in reality I was neither nor came within a whisper of any Cricketing prowess. Though my appreciation of the game has never diminished and still provides me with hours of uncomplicated pleasure, even as a spectator. More so when watching my old team play their matches.

Though the Oval looks rather bleak in the photo, induced by a glum two thirds into August day and the Pitch needs a bit of TLC, it invoked in me strong, happy memories of a more innocent time. I am glad the area has not been truncated by housing development and is still used by the current up and coming generation, even if they are Soccer players!