In This Corner

Ancient (by L.A. standards) housing, much of it sadly run-down. Housing that was cheap when it was new. Some plain ol' "project" housing, with all the intellectual baggage that generally carries.

The Blue Line pretty much parallels the Alameda Corridor, the gritty economic artery from the ports of Long Beach and Los Angeles north to the downtown L.A. railyards, between the 710 and 110 freeways.

It's an area nobody lives in by choice, I would imagine. Economic hardship has to be the prime mover in getting you to buy into the square-mile-after-square-mile of neighborhoods with bars on the windows, big dogs in the yards, cars on the front lawn and Christmas lights hanging up 366 days a year. With run-down liquor stores (one was named Ace-Hi Mini Mart & Liquor) on the corner.

Two ethnic sports sights: Near Compton, a dozen Latinos were playing soccer in a small park. The playing surface used to be grass but overuse (presumably) had left it an oval patch of dirt. One team wore Chivas-style red-and-white striped jerseys. Nothing odd there.

The vaguely surprising scene was a few miles north, where 10 guys were playing full-court basketball on asphalt. One player was a black guy ... but everyone else on the court appeared to be Latin. And this was a few steps from a park area big enough to accommodate a pickup soccer game.

So, you start to wonder. Were the basketball players second- or third-generation Latinos who have embraced hoops and walked away from futbol? Or could they be recent immigrants inspired by the Lakers or UCLA or the game itself? If so, does that say something about a preference for basketball over soccer when people are exposed to it?

The train was clean and spartan. By the time we reached L.A., it was crowded enough that passengers were standing.

The fare is $1.25 each way, so that's far cheaper than driving a car and parking. But the tradeoff is 10-15 minutes of time (driving will be faster anytime other than rush hour) and, far bigger, giving up that prized solitary existence in our cars, listening to our music or news, eating, if we like ($250 fine to eat on the Blue Line), driving at the pace we prefer.

And who was it who said, "Hell is other people"? (OK, I looked it up, and it was Jean-Paul Sartre, the French existentialist.) If you subscribe to that, Metrolink might test your patience. I've seen punks and obvious gang-bangers on trains before. Not on this one. But still, if you don't have patience for the inevitable stinky homeless guy, wailing toddlers, etc., Spanish as a first language ... the train might not be for you.

Where I sat, one hyper kid never stopped talking; his father never started, which struck me as an odd dynamic. Maybe the kid was trying to draw him out? I distinctly heard the kid, maybe 8, asking his dad, "Would you drink a pint of your own blood for 80 million dollars?"

Dad nodded yes. The kid vamped into more "would you?" questions that were increasingly scatalogical.

Then there were the grandparents taking two grade-school boys downtown. The oldsters kept chattering at the kids, who didn't seem to need the entertaining the grandparents were pushing on them. Especially the older brother, maybe 9, wearing a Texas Rangers cap, who seemed a bit withdrawn and even fearful. Little brother, the one with the Angels cap and teacup ears, had a grand time, though, looking out the window and then paging through a book on sea life that grandmother had pressed on him.

Toward the end of the line, we saw evidence of the L.A. Marathon. At the Grand Station, some spectators in Marathon T-shirts got on board. When I got off, at the Pico Station, more marathon-istas climbed aboard even as a bunch of people got off the train.

Walking over to Staples, we came to a halt at Figueroa, which was roped off as runners jogged past, heading north. I don't know how deep into the race they were, but I'd guess at least 10 miles because very few of them seemed to be having any fun. Whenever there was a small break between runners, pedestrians were allowed by security people to rush across the street.

The Blue Line doesn't quite work for Dodger Stadium. It stops in the lower half of downtown, and if there is a link to Chavez Ravine, I don't yet know about it.

I'll do this again, someday. Some other day game.