Hoopless Situation

For more than 20 years, the locals knew this: For a good game, go to Anaheim’s Twila Reid Park. There, on two lighted full courts, some of the county’s best basketball players squared off in high-caliber matchups that attracted as many as 50 people a night.

For the athletes, it was competitive and fun, a place to hone skills. But the courts drew far more than great basketball. They brought crime.

Neighbors complained about drug deals and fights, petty crimes and foul language. They watched the park--once a popular spot for family picnics--become ground zero for gang members, many of them from out of town.

Park rangers and police stepped up their patrols, but crime continued. On July 20, a man was shot in the hand in an apparently gang-related assault, forcing park officials to take drastic action.

Declaring it time to “cool the park off,” they ordered the hoops removed for at least six months. Last week, the park commission voted 5 to 0 to keep the hoops down permanently, a recommendation forwarded to the City Council.

The city’s recreation superintendent said there was no other choice, especially since crime has been slashed in the wake of the hoops’ removal.

“This is a very unusual situation,” said Terry Lowe, the city’s recreation superintendent. “We’re not really in the business of taking away recreational amenities. . . . We just flat ran out of options.”

It is a dilemma that has faced a handful of cities nationwide.

Parks are planned as a way to revitalize communities and give children a chance to engage in positive activities, such as sports. But in rare instances, open space becomes a magnet for violence and illegal activity.

“For whatever reason, those basketball courts had become a haven for crime,” Lowe said.

In Sugarland, Texas, not far from Houston, a drive-by shooting in 1999 prompted park officials to take down hoops for a “cooling period” similar to Anaheim’s.

In Chicago, where boys grow up dreaming of becoming the next Michael Jordan, about 20 basketball hoops were removed from several city parks after neighbors’ complaints about noise, gangs and drugs.

And in Southern California, cities such as Costa Mesa, Culver City and Studio City have removed basketball hoops following allegations they attract illegal activity.

The Last Resort

In the Studio City incident, one man pistol-whipped another near the basketball courts. The gun fired, but no one was hit.

Removing the hoops is often a last resort.

In Philadelphia, neighbors raised similar concerns about nighttime basketball at a community recreation center. A compromise was reached by instituting a curfew, said Dolores M. Andy, a professor of sport and recreation management at Temple University and a former Philadelphia commissioner of recreation.

“If the quality of life depends on how young people are treated, then you can’t take it away,” she said. “But you can structure it, you can discipline it and say, ‘These are the rules. . . . If you don’t obey the rules, you can’t play.’ ”

But Anaheim officials say nothing helped, not even the stepped-up police presence.

“If anything, the problem continued to escalate,” Lowe said.

Neighbors began speaking out at park commission meetings. They turned out by the dozens--far outnumbering the players--to reclaim what they considered their park, recounting horror stories and lobbying staff and city park commissioners to keep the hoops down.

June Hamze, 52, said that before the hoops were removed, she witnessed frequent fights and was intimidated by the large crowds of spectators listening to boomboxes, drinking beer and shouting profanities.

“You would walk through there and you would be afraid,” she said. “I have six grandchildren, and I could not take them to that park. . . . It just wasn’t safe.”

But several local basketball players--most of them African American and Latino--are crying foul.

While they have access to other basketball courts in the area, they believe the action unfairly restricts park usage. They say it also lumps peaceable basketball players in with the “bad element” causing the problems.

“It’s a city park,” said John Martinez, 35, a basketball player who has used the park for years. “People are allowed to play there.”

Anaheim resident Mike Achille, 39, agreed: “I think they are targeting a slim segment of people. I am not a drug dealer or a drug user. I pay taxes. I am a resident of the city of Anaheim. I want to go to the park of my choice.”

Martinez complained to the local NAACP and to the county’s Human Relations Commission. Both agencies have met with city staff, and representatives say they plan to monitor and mediate the situation as necessary.

Lowe said the hoops’ removal is motivated only by public safety.

“We had bullets flying around the park in the middle of the day,” he said. “We had a dangerous situation that we had to react to.”

For nearly two decades, Twila Reid Park was considered safe. But in recent years a rougher crowd started frequenting the park near the city’s western border.

Police said they were called to the park 84 times between January and July 2000 for complaints ranging from loud music to drug sales to fights. A park ranger was assaulted while on patrol, Lowe said.

People who live in the blocks neighboring the park stopped walking their dogs there and went elsewhere for family gatherings.

“I haven’t gone back after the shooting,” resident Andre Beck said. “That really turned me off. It’s not worth the gamble.”

After the hoops were removed after the July 20 nonfatal shooting--an incident between two alleged members of the Crips--police were called 50% less, and there had not been a report of a violent crime, police spokesman Sgt. Rick Martinez said.

“The safety of the public is much more important that some people playing basketball,” said Harald Martin, an Anaheim police officer who serves on the park commission. “Those folks have a right to live in a peaceful, calm environment.”

Five park commissioners who convened last week voted unanimously to recommend permanent removal of the hoops. Their action will stand unless the City Council intervenes or asks staff to find other solutions.

Commissioner Marla Hamblin, who missed the meeting due to an illness, said she would have opposed the commission’s decision. She concedes that her voice would likely not have swayed the panel and noted that alternatives, such as more policing, are expensive.

“I understand the remedy--you have a problem, you eliminate it,” Hamblin said. “But it seems like such an extreme remedy. In taking away hoops for the bad people, obviously and necessarily, you’re taking away hoops for the good people.”