Bouncing Back

Motorists driving east late last year along the elevated stretch of road where Beverly Boulevard turns into 1st Street may not have noticed the triangular vacant lot below. Those who did notice may have seen only an eyesore, a fenced-in morass of weeds and trash amid a rampant graffiti testing ground.

To Heraclio Tovar, though, the parcel on Lucas Avenue and 2nd Street was not a forlorn lot but a slice of earth that could be worked and turned into a field of glory--an ideal plot for Tovar and his friends to play pelota Tarasca, the game they played as children in Mexico. Named after the Tarascan Indians, the game is popular in the southwestern Mexico states of Michoacan and Guerrero.

For years, Tovar and his friends played the game on a field near Elysian Park. That lot was fenced off last year, though, when city officials were considering it as a site for a professional football stadium.

With that space off-limits, Tovar knew where to turn: the city lot on Lucas Avenue that he had admired for months. “I had driven by and seen [the lot] many times and always thought it would be perfect for pelota Tarasca,” said Tovar, 37, who lives in Pico-Union. “It was kind of hidden, it was the right size, and it was close to my home.”

Groundbreaking began in December--nothing formal, just Tovar and a few friends with shovels, rakes and hoes. They cleared the weeds and were playing in just three days. “The work didn’t take long,” Tovar said, “because we were in a hurry to play.”

Kind of a large-scale combination of handball--but without a wall--and tennis--without rackets--pelota Tarasca is played on a field about 25 feet wide and 300 feet long. Two teams of four players do battle with a tennis ball whose fuzz has been meticulously shaved off.

From distances of 30 to 50 yards, players serve the ball by hitting it with a fist. The serve must land in a marked-off area eight feet long. The ball bounces once and the opposing team smashes it back to the other side. It can be volleyed endlessly until one side either misses the ball or hits it outside the width of the field, resulting in a point for the other team. Twelve points win the match.

If the ball goes beyond the length of the field--provided it stays within the designated width--it’s a fair shot. Asked if it would be a good shot if the ball carried, say, all the way up to 1st Street, elevated 40 feet above, Tovar and son David, 14, slowly shook their heads, like baseball fans recalling a historic tape-measure home run by Mickey Mantle.

One of the better players is Isidro Gaonas, 28, who like most of the players is from the state of Michoacan. Wearing white shorts and sandals, he is small and lean and too intensely focused on the game to talk about it. He can clobber the ball more than 250 feet.

Another player, Antero Pineda, 38, did reflect on what the game means to him. “My grandfather played this game when he was a boy,” Pineda said. “For me it is a tradition. I’ve been playing since I was 6.”

On weekends, a colorful urban scene is played out on what was once a weed-choked lot. With downtown skyscrapers and graffiti-scarred walls--among the most colorful in the city--providing a backdrop, scores of people gather to play and watch the game. A reminder of old Los Angeles, a tunnel where the Pacific Electric red street cars once emerged, marks the south end of the playing field. Above, on the street, a parked catering truck lowers a bucket filled with orders of carne asada and carnitas down to hungry players and spectators on the field.

On a recent Sunday, 75 people--about half of them players, half spectators--enjoyed the afternoon.

And there is plenty of action to watch. The players are so eager to play pelota Tarasca that two games often go on at once on the same field.

Through it all, there is Heraclio Tovar, working the field like a one-man Dodger Stadium groundskeeping crew. Wielding a long stick, he frequently re-marks the boundaries.

“I love this game,” Tovar said. “I loved it when I was a kid, and I still love it.”

The players even have the support of Councilman Mike Hernandez. “As long as I get no complaints--and I have had none--I will support them,” Hernandez said. “It won’t be the first time a park was created from a vacant lot.”