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Aku awali pesan ini dengan kata bismillah, berharap agar semua berjalan mudah.
Tapi kenyataanya, tak ada cara mudah untuk menyampaikn ini semua.
Dari pada aku berbasa basi banyak alasan, lebih baik ku sampaikan saja secara mengalir laksana sebuah cerita.
Semalam waktu aku berkumpul bersama keluarga ku, bapak, ibu, dan adik-adik ku, aku bercerita tentang kamu.
tentang hubungan kita.
Tentang asal usul dan juga setatus mu.
Tapi.. respon yang ku dapat jauh di luar perkiraan yang ku harap.
Bahkan harus berahir dengan penyesalan.
mengapa aku tadi bercerita?
kenapa tadi ku tak diam saja?
Aku menggerutu dalam hati yang di penuhi sesal.
Tapi begitulah takdir berperan, mengalir bagai arus air.
Tak akan bisa di tahan walau dengan membentang kedua tangan.
Apa kamu tau apa respon mereka?
Ibunda ku berkata..
“Le..mbok kamu itu tau diri.
Lihat dulu dari kalangan mana kamu berasal.
Dia itu orang yang berpendidikan.
Kuliah, jadi mahasiswi, pasti orang tuanya mengharap masa depan cerah untuk dia.
Mereka ingin hidup anak mereka terjamin, berkecukupan, dan bisa jadi “orang”.
Lha kamu ini apa to le?
Kamu cuma lulusan SD, lulusan pesantren.
Jangankan kuliah le, SMP saja kamu ga’ pernah.
Lha kok berani-beraninya pacaran sama mahasiswa, yang cerah masa depanya.
Lebih baik kamu “lepas” saja dia.
Sebelum semua terlambat terlalu jauh.
Sebelum kamu mengecewakanya terlalu dalam.
Ngomong pelan-pelan sama dia.
Yang halus..yang sopan.
Kalo dia marah sama kamu, itu memang haknya dia.
Karena itu memang salah kamu.
Tapi ibu nasehatkan sama kamu, itu semua juga demi kebaikan dia.
Dia ga’ pantes sama kamu.
Dia berhak dapat yang lebih baik dari pada kamu.
Kita ini orang kecil le.
Berfikiran yang sederhana.
Yang penting hidup tentram dan mensyukuri apa yang ada.
Kalo kamu memang cinta sama dia, seharusnya kamu ga’ egois.
Kamu juga harus mikir masa depan dia juga.
Kalo dia sama kamu yang orang kampung ini, mau jadi apa dia?
Lagi pula dia jauh juga kan?
Ibu ga’ pengen nanti punya menantu yang jauh.
Apa lagi sampai nyebrang laut.
Kamu ga’ lihat sekarang kapal pada tenggelam?
Pesawat juga pada jatuh?
Kalo memang terpaksa dapat yang jauh, yang penting ga’ nyebrang laut”.
Bapak ku juga mendukung kata-kata ibu ku..
“Mumpung belum kenal lebih dalam, mending sudahi skrg.
Dari pada kamu malah lebih membuat dia kecewa nantinya”.
Aku berfikir semalaman.
Galau, kecewa, dan marah, karena merasa aku ga’ pernah di anggap benar dalam melangkah.
Tapi.. setelah ku berfikir panjang, kata-kata mereka benar juga.
Kamu ga’ pantas dengan aku.
Kamu berhak mendapat yang lebih baik dari aku.
Aku hanya ingin.. jika hubungan ini harus berahir, ku ingin di ahiri dengan baik-baik..
Sebagaimana kita memulai semua ini dengan baik-baik pula.
Ku ingin kau mengerti sayang, ku meninggalkan mu bukan karena rasa benci ku.
Tapi.. Ku ingin kau tau, beginilah cara ku dalam mencintai mu.
Bukankah cinta itu bukan tentang bagaimana cara kita memiliki?
Tapi bagaimana cara kita berkorban demi orang yang paling kita cintai..
Dan dalam kisah ku ini, orang itu adalah kamu..
Baik-baiklah kau di batas cakrawala sana..
Dan dari belahan bumi yang jauh ini, aku kan selalu mendo’akan untuk kebahagiaan mu..
Dari ku..
Cinta mu di ujung bumi .....
cerita romantis di atas adalah sebuah cerita yang diambil dari kisah perjalanan yang nyata. Begitu romantis dan menyentuh hati...untuk se sengkap nya klik di sini

Hockey is not exactly known as a city game, but played on roller skates, it once held sway as the sport of choice in many New York neighborhoods.

“City kids had no rinks, no ice, but they would do anything to play hockey,” said Edward Moffett, former director of the Long Island City Y.M.C.A. Roller Hockey League, in Queens, whose games were played in city playgrounds going back to the 1940s.

From the 1960s through the 1980s, the league had more than 60 teams, he said. Players included the Mullen brothers of Hell’s Kitchen and Dan Dorion of Astoria, Queens, who would later play on ice for the National Hockey League.

One street legend from the heyday of New York roller hockey was Craig Allen, who lived in the Woodside Houses projects and became one of the city’s hardest hitters and top scorers.

“Craig was a warrior, one of the best roller hockey players in the city in the ’70s,” said Dave Garmendia, 60, a retired New York police officer who grew up playing with Mr. Allen. “His teammates loved him and his opponents feared him.”

Young Craig took up hockey on the streets of Queens in the 1960s, playing pickup games between sewer covers, wearing steel-wheeled skates clamped onto school shoes and using a roll of electrical tape as the puck.

His skill and ferocity drew attention, Mr. Garmendia said, but so did his skin color. He was black, in a sport made up almost entirely by white players.

“Roller hockey was a white kid’s game, plain and simple, but Craig broke the color barrier,” Mr. Garmendia said. “We used to say Craig did more for race relations than the N.A.A.C.P.”

Mr. Allen went on to coach and referee roller hockey in New York before moving several years ago to South Carolina. But he continued to organize an annual alumni game at Dutch Kills Playground in Long Island City, the same site that held the local championship games.

The reunion this year was on Saturday, but Mr. Allen never made it. On April 26, just before boarding the bus to New York, he died of an asthma attack at age 61.

Word of his death spread rapidly among hundreds of his old hockey colleagues who resolved to continue with the event, now renamed the Craig Allen Memorial Roller Hockey Reunion.

The turnout on Saturday was the largest ever, with players pulling on their old equipment, choosing sides and taking once again to the rink of cracked blacktop with faded lines and circles. They wore no helmets, although one player wore a fedora.

Another, Vinnie Juliano, 77, of Long Island City, wore his hearing aids, along with his 50-year-old taped-up quads, or four-wheeled skates with a leather boot. Many players here never converted to in-line skates, and neither did Mr. Allen, whose photograph appeared on a poster hanging behind the players’ bench.

“I’m seeing people walking by wondering why all these rusty, grizzly old guys are here playing hockey,” one player, Tommy Dominguez, said. “We’re here for Craig, and let me tell you, these old guys still play hard.”

Everyone seemed to have a Craig Allen story, from his earliest teams at Public School 151 to the Bryant Rangers, the Woodside Wings, the Woodside Blues and more.

Mr. Allen, who became a yellow-cab driver, was always recruiting new talent. He gained the nickname Cabby for his habit of stopping at playgrounds all over the city to scout players.

Teams were organized around neighborhoods and churches, and often sponsored by local bars. Mr. Allen, for one, played for bars, including Garry Owen’s and on the Fiddler’s Green Jokers team in Inwood, Manhattan.

Play was tough and fights were frequent.

“We were basically street gangs on skates,” said Steve Rogg, 56, a mail clerk who grew up in Jackson Heights, Queens, and who on Saturday wore his Riedell Classic quads from 1972. “If another team caught up with you the night before a game, they tossed you a beating so you couldn’t play the next day.”

Mr. Garmendia said Mr. Allen’s skin color provoked many fights.

“When we’d go to some ignorant neighborhoods, a lot of players would use slurs,” Mr. Garmendia said, recalling a game in Ozone Park, Queens, where local fans parked motorcycles in a lineup next to the blacktop and taunted Mr. Allen. Mr. Garmendia said he checked a player into the motorcycles, “and the bikes went down like dominoes, which started a serious brawl.”

A group of fans at a game in Brooklyn once stuck a pole through the rink fence as Mr. Allen skated by and broke his jaw, Mr. Garmendia said, adding that carloads of reinforcements soon arrived to defend Mr. Allen.

And at another racially incited brawl, the police responded with six patrol cars and a helicopter.

Before play began on Saturday, the players gathered at center rink to honor Mr. Allen. Billy Barnwell, 59, of Woodside, recalled once how an all-white, all-star squad snubbed Mr. Allen by playing him third string. He scored seven goals in the first game and made first string immediately.

“He’d always hear racial stuff before the game, and I’d ask him, ‘How do you put up with that?’” Mr. Barnwell recalled. “Craig would say, ‘We’ll take care of it,’ and by the end of the game, he’d win guys over. They’d say, ‘This guy’s good.’”

Tribute for a Roller Hockey Warrior

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