Trash and Treasure on the MLK Day of Service
Saturday, January 18, 10:15 a.m. — Raimondi Park
I’m the guy who brings his own trash grabber to the party.
It’s one of those cold, gloomy January Saturdays that will be sunny and gorgeous the next time you look up. I’m at the ballpark with the Friends of Raimondi Park for the Oakland MLK Day of Service and the first Ballunteer opportunity of the year. There’s a group of teens repainting the picnic tables at Campbell and 18th. Younger kids scatter, deep in the game to find as many bits of garbage as they can. For those who don’t own a trash claw—shocking, really—there are plenty to borrow. A dad pushes a stroller with one hand and carries a City of Oakland refuse bag in the other. Bright yellow visibility vests abound. When we check in, there are 52 others signed up already. I can’t speak for all of them, but for me, in a world that can feel unkind and uncertain, this is being a part of something immediately good, a small but tangible goodwill that you feel and see right away.
I’m here with my wife and our son, age four, and he is first interested in the playground, just as he is during baseball season. We get him to walk with us down 20th, and it might already be the cleanest stretch of the East Bay. But as we square the block and then enter the park, past a couple of very serious games of rec soccer, there’s plenty to find: discarded Christmas trees, eye glasses, every brand of bottled water, a decapitated dog toy. The star is a plastic smiley face hair clip, which I keep, which my son tells us is our reward. (He is big into rewards.) All around are volunteers chatting and kids competitively cleaning; some people jog by themselves and listen to podcasts as they clean, and a small crowd cheers when a particularly full bag gets shotputted into the dumpster. Everyone is happy; we are our reward.
Soon, my wife and kid leave—they have timed tickets at the Oakland Zoo and you DO NOT MESS WITH TIMED TICKETS AT THE OAKLAND ZOO—and I venture farther afield from the field. Away from Raimondi, there’s more to pick up, and it’s a reminder to us fans, me especially, that the B’s see more around these streets than baseball. There is work on the field, the games and scores, and there is work beyond: the community, the city, that tricky and worthy sense of togetherness, and here, there is no offseason.
And it is a trove of finds today: a medical gown, a Brita filter, Don Julio, a ThermPro™ Ultra-Fast Digital Cooking Thermometer, a white mask with colorful initials and hearts drawn on it (which I still can’t decide…adorable or terrifying?). A trio of Bob Marley hemp wraps, a purple halter top, and a parking ticket for $72 (let me know, 6V78--- if you need this Nov. 14th street sweeping souvenir).
As the allotted two hours quickly come to a close, Laura, the B’s General Manager, leads a stalwart group of us into the ballpark itself. It’s in good offseason condition, but as we corral some stray bottles and cans, we can look out at the field, fully green, and walk through the dugouts and look up at the empty bleachers. The diamond is always magic, and in the quiet and stillness, it’s almost more so. The lines haven’t been drawn and the mound is covered. In a storage shed, the bases crowd together mushroomlike, and a batting helmet sits waiting for a head.
A fellow trash wrangler says she was out of town all last season and can’t wait for a game this year. Wow, she says, look at that skyline.
In the season, I say, with the summer sunset, there’s nothing like it.
It’s four months until Opening Day, but we are here. The park and the neighborhood are a little cleaner, this group of fans a bit more familiar, and we’ll be back before you know it.
The next Ballunteer event is Saturday, Feb. 22.