O'Toole Athletic Field

Description - Exterior

A sprawling lot of grass and dirt hemmed in by rusting chain-link fence and broken-down bleachers. The field lies just south of the railyards, where the wind carries the scent of coal smoke and stockyard runoff. A faded wooden sign—“O'Toole Athletic Field, Est. 1924”—hangs at a crooked angle over the locked gate. Floodlights loom overhead, but most are busted or flickering, casting long, uneven shadows at dusk. Kids sneak in through the gaps in the fence, but when the local leagues show up, they come in full force—dust clouds, shouting parents, and the crack of aluminum bats echoing over the yards.

Description - Interior

There’s no “interior” in the traditional sense, but behind the north bleachers sits a squat concrete shed with a rusted red door—half equipment room, half unofficial office. Inside, it smells like liniment, old leather, and mildew. A dented desk sits beneath a grease-streaked portrait of Mayor Cermak. Stacks of team rosters, water-stained forms, and worn gloves are scattered across the place. Behind a false wall panel, there’s a hidden stash—whiskey, cash, and occasionally something heavier—tied to whoever’s muscling in for control this month.

Owner

“Coach” Mickey Dugan – Wiry, ex-semi-pro ballplayer turned local legend. Got a limp from an old slide into second that never healed right. Mickey runs the place unofficially—he’s not on any city payroll, but everyone treats him like the law of the land. Keeps a Louisville slugger behind the door, "just in case."

Employees

None on record, but a rotating cast of older teens and neighborhood kids do odd jobs, watch gates, and clean up for a few bucks or a place to crash.
"Shorty" Salazar – quick-footed ex-runner for the Bulls, now working to stay clean (mostly).
Ruby Nilsen – teenage umpire-in-training, knows everyone’s business and keeps score in her head.
Cousin Jimmy – Mickey’s nephew, always around, always sweating something.

History

Built in 1924 with city money and local labor, O'Toole Field was supposed to be a beacon for the Back of the Yards youth—“a place to keep 'em too tired for trouble.” It worked for a while. But as politics shifted and money dried up, the field was left to rot. The Bulls used to run numbers out of the announcer’s booth. For a time, the CPD's community division tried to reclaim it with little league and bake sales. Now, it’s a tug-of-war between gangs, community organizers, and the old-timers who remember its glory.

Notes

The field is rumored to be neutral ground… but that only lasts until sunset.
At least one stash of weapons is rumored to be buried beneath third base.
Ghost stories float around—mostly about a kid who died chasing a fly ball into the railyard.
Sometimes, when the lights flicker just right, folks swear they hear old game calls echoing from nowhere.

Type

Mountain Pass

Location under

New City