LOS ANGELES _ Like a medieval fortress, the Maravilla Handball Court in East L.A. rises, improbable and imposing, above the wood-frame bungalows of its neighborhood and the stucco housing project across the street.
Thwop.
Its north wall is three stories tall, red brick etched by white mortar and surmounted by rusted chain-link and chicken wire. Its east wall slopes down from this height over the length of a half-block to a modest single-story corner market.
Thwop.
So wonderful are these ramparts that they seem less man-made than a natural feature of the landscape, leaving some passers-by to pause and listen to the curious sound coming from the other side of the high walls.
Thwop.
For the initiated, this citadel north of Cesar Chavez Boulevard is no place of mystery, and the sound of a ball careening off a front wall _ thwop _ is an invitation to step inside.
On a Saturday afternoon, mid-July, one of the hottest days of the year, Eddie Reveles and Johnny Herrera are up against Freddy Reyes and his son. The Reyeses have the lead, but their opponents are ceding nothing.
Neither are the spectators, most of whom have stood up for this court through the years of uncertainty after the death, almost 10 years ago, of its beloved owners, Tommy and Michi Nishiyama.
They watch the match from folding chairs under pop-up canopies. Hot dogs sizzle on a grill. "Chain of Fools" play, play, plays through scratchy speakers.
They've come to the neighborhood of Maravilla from as far as Hesperia and Mojave, Azusa and Burbank, to hit a small rubber ball in what must be the oldest handball court in Southern California.
But age _ the brick walls were raised almost 90 years ago _ can be a liability in a community that's easily overlooked. History in these unincorporated streets often is lost to more immediate concerns, like economic development.
"Ten serving six!" shouts Anthony Huante, the tournament's scorekeeper and steward. The matches today are played in memory of his father, Tony Huante, one of Southern California's most revered handball players, who died in December.
Growing up, the younger Huante, 58, preferred football to handball, but he wants to honor his father, who last year talked about buying this property.
Finding that kind of money, though, is not easy for someone who supports himself with odd jobs _ selling sports jerseys, cleaning carpets, roofing, landscaping. Huante has enlisted the help of a friend and his sister and has an important ally in Amanda Perez.
