For DiBerardinis, Philly parks are a field of dreams

November 17, 2010|By Kia Gregory, Inquirer Staff Writer

Mike DiBerardinis' first summer back in the city broiled with challenges.

Recreation centers sat empty, basketball courts were crime scenes with bullet casings and yellow police tape, and about a third of pools never opened at all.

That was in 2009, and DiBerardinis, head of the newly merged Parks and Recreation Department, told Mayor Nutter that if he didn't get all the pools open the next summer, "you can fire me."

Now it's the fall of 2010. DiBerardinis is not only still here, but pondering the leafy trails in Cobbs Creek Park, wondering how to work a similar miracle there.

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Within the rolling forest of 829 acres, the leaves have turned shades of gold and orange. Red-tail foxes and migrating birds such as great blue herons make their homes. There's a watershed, a golf course, and an ice-skating rink. There are also empty drug packets on unlit paths, trash floating in the creek, and hammocks tied to trees where homeless men sleep - all of which keeps joggers, walkers, and nature lovers at bay.

For DiBerardinis, the park symbolizes the challenge of his department, and what's at stake. Studies show that when public space is used, it's safe. Children are safer and healthier when they're involved in recreational activities. People weigh outdoor and recreational programs when deciding where to live. And businesses consider where to open based on recreational amenities for their workers.

"We are deeply rooted in neighborhoods through playgrounds, parks, and rec," DiBerardinis said of his department one recent afternoon. "We are deeply tied to the community. So, how do you make that work for kids? How do we work together to extend that value? That's the expectation or demand we have now."

On Wednesday, DiBerardinis will make yet another big announcement involving the city's ice-skating rinks - a partnership with Comcast-Spectator, and millions of dollars.

DiBerardinis' battle to knit city services into the fabric of tattered neighborhoods began three decades ago, when he was a fiery housing activist who frequently found himself in handcuffs for the cause. He admittedly "still burns pretty hot."

In 1992, he became Mayor Ed Rendell's recreation commissioner, working with neighbors to light fields, plug leaky facility roofs, and, once, reopen a site long abandoned to drug dealers. Eight years later, he went to Harrisburg as Gov. Rendell's state secretary of natural resources. But he was never able to work that neighborhood thing out of his system.

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