Throg Neck's Finest

Not everyone makes it to 50.

James “Ice” Parker didn’t make it. Troy Bat died short of his 50th. Troy Douglas was nowhere near 50 when he passed.

That’s why it was both significant and an honor to attend the 50^th birthday celebration of arguably Throg Neck’s most popular alum – Ricky Malcolm – a few Saturdays back.

Who in Throgs Neck from the 1970’s era to the 2000’s didn’t know Rick? Sheeeit. Even my moms knew Rick. Let me tell you why…

The year was 1976. Your young author - all of 6 years old - was making the daunting jaunt back from a hard day of 2^nd grade learning at PS 72 when he was accosted for his Fat Albert lunchbox by a young Ricky Malcolm and his ever-present side kick, one Sean “Po” Raymond. A game of “Salucci” ensued (some racially insensitive may call it “Monkey in the Middle”) and said Fat Albert lunchbox was dropped and cracked, never to be sold on eBay 30 years later for the thousand$ it was sure to have fetched.

My mother was not a fan.

A short period later after Lunchbox-gate had subsided - after school and in summers, we’d have epic my block vs. his block baseball battles in the grass between our two buildings we called Royal Stadium for some reason; we played for the same PAL baseball team where our parents paid for equipment that somehow never materialized “We’re gonna get some bats, some balls…” Rick could even imitate those coaches’ false claims with accuracy today, 40 years later.

In junior high I would go early in the morning and play basketball in the gym before school would start. One morning, circa 1983 I’m cooling off outside in front of the school and from a distance I hear a roar of laughter…silence….roar of laughter…silence…and repeat - getting louder the closer it got to the school. As the crowd got closer I realize it’s just Rick telling jokes and attracting a crowd like the Pied Piper while he’s walking to school:

“I come to your house and your mother gave me two broom sticks: one to hold up the ceiling and one to fight the roaches!” Roar of laughter...joke…repeat.

Knowing Rick can be both exhilarating and uncomfortable - like riding Kingda Ka at Great Adventure for the first time or sitting in the front row at a Comedy Show and you happen to catch the comedian’s eye and he’s about to riff on you for an hour straight. 

Once he saw me at Mary’s buying toilet paper. “Wipe that ass!”

We’re entering McDonald’s drive thru in Troy Bat’s car, our girl Christine Davis is working and paying for food was never a concept. “May I take your order?” Rick leans over Troy before he could respond and yells “Hookup!” into drive through mic at deafening level.

He also had the guts of a burglar: we were at Amateur Night at the Apollo and Rick – no doubt fueled by bottles of Andre champagne – ran onstage and started telling jokes, and WAS NOT BOOED OFF. Even Sandman had to stand back and watch. Legendary, epic night.

He’d MC at Throgs Neck basketball tournament games. In between snapping on people in the crowd “I saw her last night at the Capri Motel and she asked me for a ride home ‘Ricky you going back to the Neck?’ he’d also do play by play. One year me and my boy Tim got with a team that wasn’t from the Neck and Rick branded us traitors. Every time either me or Tim touched the ball “Benedict with the ball dribbles up court and passes it to the other Benedict…” and so it went for the whole damn tournament.

The soundtrack for many of our early Saturday mornings were provided courtesy of Rick and Sean as they’d wash their cars or mopeds downstairs from our 2^nd floor window where we were treated to sounds of the Stylistics, Delfonics and early Motown. My mother would turn off her music and sing along to theirs as she cleaned up the living room, even opening the window more to hear better. “They play such great music!”

My mother was a fan.

In Woody Allen’s masterpiece Crimes and Misdemeanors, Alan Alda’s character says “comedy is tragedy plus time.” Lord knows along the way he’s had his share of tragedy but somehow through it all he’s kept us laughing and intrigued.

Glasses raised to my boy, Rick.

Happy 50^th, god!