NYTF

Thrasher Magazine, Jan, 2003 by McTwist Parlor

NEW YORK CITY: Think of ollieing over a cab in rush hour traffic. Think of meeting up with 30 other skaters at the banks and sessioning all day downtown, then heading up to midtown to skate CBS and Time-Life until one in the morning. Think of Dill's part in Photosynthesis. Think of beating up security guards, out-of-towners, and thugs chewing on sticks in Washington Square. Are you with me? Me neither. In fact, nor are most skaters in the city. One of the many tragic repercussions of September 11th is that the banks have been transformed into a parking lot and security is tighter than a virgin's peehole around all of downtown and all over the city. That leaves us with nowhere to go.

Enter ABC skate shop and the baseball diamond at Tompkin's Square. What started out as one lonely yellow flat bar and a few scattered local children has turned into a thriving community of assorted obstacles (box bench, manual pad, found objects) and a severe localism reminiscent of the short-shorted, Zephyr shirt-wearing, arrogant Z-Boys of our so-called golden age. But this isn't 1978 and we don't have a Dogbowl, this is 2002 and we have the TF: Quite possibly the best and worst thing to happen to NYC skateboarding in a long time. On any given day, you can find at least 30 skaters crooking around on foot-high flat bars, getting tech on the manny pad, or popping over the trash can. The problem is that on every given day you will probably find the same 30 skaters at the park. No one wants to admit that they're a local, but everyone goes there. Everyday. While it's good that we have a local place to meet up and theoretically practice for one of these epic midtown sessions that hardly ever happen, it's easy to get stuck there. Its location between two skateshops (ABC on A between 12th and 13th, and Autumn on 2nd and A), drinks, and a constant stream of beautiful women and intriguing homeless people makes an irresistible trap for all of us. This is not to dis anyone involved, from the people that drag out the obstacles everyday to the throngs who would have nothing to do if the benches on the side were taken out, but...just to let you know what's happening here. Don't front, you'll be here everyday for like eight hours when you come and visit. And you'll love it. Guiltily. Because when it comes down to it, although this spot could exist in Wyoming (and I'm sure there is probably a concrete slab in a field somewhere in Big Sky Country full of flat bars and boxes), no one would care because no one would go there.

That's the point. You still have all the energy and flavor of skating in the city, but none of the hassles, save for a foul ball hitting your head on thug-baseball day as you practice your backside noseblunt. The park is located on Avenue A between 9th and 10th streets, 10 hours a day, seven days a week, for the rest of your life.