Bike Polo Regulars Gather in the Pit

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Benjamin Norman for The Wall Street Journal

Twice a week, the vacant playground at the corner of Chrystie and Broome streets comes alive with the sounds of plastic scraping asphalt and clicking bicycle wheels. Whooping and cheering and cigarette smoke waft up from the sideline, while grown men and women pump around on bicycles swinging homemade mallets. They crash into walls and each other. The blood and bruises on knees and elbows are afterthoughts.

It all makes for a scene somewhere between a battlefield and a social club.

On other, calmer days, the yard is just an anonymous expanse within Sara D. Roosevelt Park. But when the regular bicycle polo pickup game rolls in, it is known simply as the Pit. From Paris to Los Angeles, serious players all know the name.

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Cyclists come from across the country and around the world to play bicycle polo in the Pit, an otherwise anonymous expanse in Sara D. Roosevelt Park on the Lower East Side. Benjamin Norman for The Wall Street Journal

Though bicycle polo—which is exactly what it sounds like—was not born here, the Pit is its mecca. The one place every player wants to experience. Like Rucker Park is to streetballers and Pebble Beach is to golfers.

"There's just something about the size, the surface, the energy of the area," said one pony-tailed regular who goes by the name Chombo. "It's sunken in, so it's great for spectators. And this is the street—gritty pavement and dirty brick walls. It's definitely New York."

The game has lived at the Pit for roughly eight years and the hard core of 20 or so aficionados is there week in, week out. They come to test their skills, blow off steam and shoot the breeze.

"There aren't so many rules. You don't have to sign up. It doesn't cost any money. There's no leagues," said Johan Ramirez. "You just show up and play."

The laws of the game are kept to a bare minimum. And even though they vary from city to city, the rules at the Pit are unspoken. Two teams of three have to knock a roller hockey ball through their opponents' goal—here, a pair of beat-up traffic cones—with the short side of their mallet head. Contact is widely accepted, as long as there is no intent to do any harm. And most importantly, no part of a player can touch the ground. If it does, the player must rush to the sideline and tap the wall to be allowed back in the game.

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There is plenty of contact and bumps and bruises as bike polo players battle in The Pit. Benjamin Norman for The Wall Street Journal

But even though the sport is called polo, like the game played by bluebloods on horseback for more than 200 years, it looks and feels more like hockey. The players glide around the court, almost as if they were on skates.

The sport's original demographic was bicycle couriers and delivery boys, if only because riding a bike in tight situations was second nature to them. In New York, that culture is alive and well in the group, infused with a healthy dose of Lower East Side hipster. But the set of backgrounds is more diverse than ever.

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Benjamin Norman for The Wall Street Journal

Mr. Ramirez, for instance, is a trained pastry chef.

Less than two weeks ago, he quit his post at the Mandarin-Oriental hotel in Washington, D.C., to play more bike polo. Of course, that was not what he told his employers or friends in Washington. All he said was that he was looking for a job that "allowed me a little more flexibility." Mr. Ramirez, 29, now plans to spend the next month traveling across North America picking up games before looking for his next job.

At the Pit, his story does not raise many eyebrows—these are the people who shoveled snow for five hours one day last winter for the sake of three 15-minute games. Everyone who shows up has made a major commitment to polo. After all, players said it takes over six months just to learn the skills to get in a game. "Bike polo has definitely ruined my life," said Chandel Bodner. "In a really good way."

Ms. Bodner first picked up the game in Canada nearly three years ago and routinely travels to tournaments. She said she has played on everything from repurposed tennis courts to hockey rinks. And whenever she lets anyone know she lives in New York, they tell her how badly they want to see the Pit.

The little park's reputation has even spread to Europe. On a cool evening last week, a pair of visitors from Germany joined in with two more from France, who referred to the place as "Le Peet."

Mark Sich, a 30-year-old artist from Paris, was among of them. One of the original players in Paris's two-year-old bike polo community—there are about 40 there now—Mr. Sich came to Chrystie Street to get a feel for the latest trends on the American scene.

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Benjamin Norman for The Wall Street Journal

"Everyone is getting better so quickly," he said in French. "Every time we come, we're learning new tricks. One of the latest is picking up the ball with the mallet and shooting it through your own bike frame."

But Mr. Sich came armed with plenty of his own tricks. Up and down the court, he hopped his front wheel back and forth over the ball, like a hockey stick gently guiding a puck. To make a surprise pass, he violently twisted his handlebars to zip the ball off his spokes. And, naturally, he just had to try the new shoot-through-your-own-frame thing—which he pulled off exactly once before the evening was over yelling, "I did it!"

Mr. Sich and his traveling partner, who have already been in five countries this year for tournaments, were the only players in the session with sponsorship deals. The rest spend their own money on equipment and travel. Bike polo in the United States may have its own organizations, but it is still a long way from mainstream recognition.

"We're very grassroots," Mr. Ramirez said with a chuckle. "Though I'd love to see this in the X-Games some day. That's why I have to be ready for when it happens."

That means many more endless afternoons of pickup. Last week, he played in the day's final game well after the Chrystie Street lights came on, like a barfly downing one more after last call. Mr. Sich's winning goal ended the session.

So the players packed up their gear and pedaled home, already talking about next time.

As long as they have their bikes and their mallets, they never stay away from the Pit for long.