Kickflip My Heart
Story by Rachel Prin
OFF2BROOKLYN
Filmed by Rachel Prin
Edited by James Reeves
“It’s cool to see someone actually using a real camera for a change.”
The statement came from a long haired, late 20’s, sweaty skateboarder who she’d been
casually observing doing tricks and laps around McCarren Skatepark.
She sat at the picnic table, eyes and lens glued to her boyfriend as he navigated children,
scooters, amateurs and seasoned skaters; all traversing the same relatively small patch of
concrete and steel. As an outside observer, the scene seemed chaotic, but as she watched, it
soon became apparent that there was a system in place; an unspoken order and method.
Young adults, kids and seasoned pros all sharing the same space. There was a respect given to
the participants who, clearly, took the sport seriously. Lines form to allow certain features to be
utilized or lines to be carried out in a safe and organized manner.
He pushed to start a line and quickly aborted as a young girl, covered head to toe in protective
garb, slowly pushes her way down a ramp. Small children always have the right of way.
The screech of wheels on cement as quick turns are made compliment the abrasive crack of
boards hitting the ground. The sounds filling her ears with no distinguishable rhythm as a car
horn blares in the not so distant distance. It hits her as she sits next to a mother, watching her
young son slowly push his way around the outskirts of the park, that she’s been let in on a
community, a culture that she’s always loved in one sense, and yet never really ever known.
While skateboarding runs in her blood, so did Lithuanian ancestry; and she couldn’t speak a
word of that language either.
Throughout the week they had visited multiple skateparks throughout Brooklyn and Manhattan;
LES, McCarren, and Blue Park. They had visited a plethora of famous street skate spots, some
with names, some he’d simply discovered on his own; Alligator Ledge, Williamsburg Monument,
Brooklyn Banks. They’d hit not one, but two skateshops; KCDC and Labor. Hell, they’d even
crashed a Boosted Board event at the Brooklyn Pump Track. She’d observed graffiti, covering
the bricks, walls, ramps and trash cans; even the worst of it better than the best in most places.
Healthy populations of pigeons around every turn. Stickers and tattered posters pasted
wherever an open space presented itself. Empty soda cans, bags and even radom apparel
randomly littered the outskirts of the parks...but never where a skateboard would have to travel.
Each park was different. Some were sprawling massive parks that had polished, extensive
cement features. Some more minimalist with well worn features, chipped asphalt, plywood
boxes and unsecured movable rails.
Yet, no matter where they went, the sentiment was the same. The same rules applied. The
same respect given to all. It didn’t matter that he was from Florida or that she was from Boise.
His talent and passion were instantly accepted and recognized. His tricks equally applauded or
recognized alongside everyone else’s. Advice and spots exchanged willingly. And while she
filmed from the sidelines, there was a respect given to that as well. No one messed with her or
made obnoxious faces or gestures at the camera. In fact, it was just the opposite. With no
prompting, skaters went out of their way to stay out of the shot, go around her and make sure
that the subject of her focus was not obstructed. The one time some young, scooter kids did
stand in the way, before she could even say anything to them, another skater addressed the
issue, and made the kids aware of the error that they had just made.
“How is she going to be able to film his tricks when you’re standing right in the way?”
This was more than a hobby, more than a recreational activity; this was a culture. A culture that
even so far from where they’d come, was the same. It was a language and a community and
she felt truly touched to be welcomed into. And yet, there was even more to it than that. He had
brought her here for one purpose. To skate New York. As she watched him grind along a rail, a
chipped paint rail begging for wax, he quickly pushes past her, focused and determined. She
couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little more. He had shared this place, this world with her
and she didn’t take that for granted. While the setting of New York was inspiring, visually
unbelievable and unlike anything she’d ever experienced, this vulnerability and glimpse into
such an important component of the man she loved was the one thing she would truly never
forget about visiting New York.
She thought back to the days previous, to boards that had been focused out of frustration.
Frustration out of successful tricks that no one except her would ever see. Frustration out of
passion and love. She hadn’t fully understood that until this very moment. For him, and for so
many others, this was not just a “fun hobby.” This was a part of him. As much as his green
eyes, Italian blood and 80’s action movies.
He did a kickflip over a rail and pushed towards her.
“I think I’m good here. You ready to go?”
He was sweaty, tired, handsome and happy. His heart and trick quota was filled for the day.
The satisfaction clearly written across his face and evident in the timbre of his voice.
They gathered their stuff and she shut down the camera. As he pushed off and skated a bit
ahead of her, she followed behind taking in the view. The rhythmic cadence of his wheels
crossing sidewalk cracks was comforting and made her heart swell. They were surrounded by
towering apartment buildings, townhouses, the Manhattan skyline clearly visible on the horizon.
Brooklyn was a magical place for the obvious reasons, and for the not so obvious ones as well.
He jumped up a curb and onto a slanted street level cellar door. The corrugated metal released
a reverberating noise that echoed off the nearby buildings. As he landed the trick he came to a
stop, flipped up his board and waited for her to catch up. Their last day in New York for this trip
maybe. But certainly not their last.
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