Thereabouts... we'd play on the dirt road behind my corner, by the well. If we had a ball, we'd play "neka bije, neka bije" with all the funny names we could imagine. The "let beat, let beat" was played with any number of players and one MC. Everybody would whisper their name to the MC, and it would always be a funny or at least confusing name - Tarzan, Rusty stove, Pierced baloon, čvrga, Bicycle, The one next to me. There was a set place where the ball would lie, and everyone would gather as close to the ball as possible, while maintaining posture to flee. Then the MC would announce "let beat, let beat... " and then shout a name. The guy whose name it was would reach for the ball and the others would flee. He'd try to hit anybody (but the MC) with the ball; the hit guy would drop out of the game and become a spectator; if he missed, he'd drop out. Now there was a "neka bije, neka bije, lopta na mestu nije" - the ball was not in place so the MC issued this as a warning... but then someone would call himself "lopta" (the ball) or "wait" or something equally meta. In the end there would be only two guys (or girls, for that matter) and that would decide the champion. While fleeing, someone may fall and become a likely candidate to be hit, but then may manage to roll away while the ball flew and thus score.
When we'd get bored with that, specially when it was getting dark and we'd get older (perhaps in 1965 or 6) we'd collect dust in nylon bags and launch them high; they'd roll and spill while creating a huge cloud under the britht mercury (actually neon but everyone called them mercury - perhaps there was mercury vapor in the bulb) lights we had in the main street.
One of the guys once managed to fall in a very interesting manner, during whatever maneuver he was trying to perform. Since not everybody saw it and it was very funny, he tried to re-enact the fall, and did so with 100% accuracy, including the falling part - he prostrated himself, scraping the same knee again. The soil was supposed to be quite soft and without pebbles, but ever since we got the asphalt road, the vicinity of it was full of sharp little bits of stone. Falling off a bike would produce nice scabs which would sometimes take a whole week to fall off. I had a good one on my neck, from the bell's handle, actually had to wear gauze for a couple of days, and another one on my left knee, the scab was big. Don't know how I managed to hit the curb with my left knee. The scar was visible on the top of my kneecap for years... and then as I grew, the skin grew above, so the scar is now above my kneecap.
Marbles. Never saw one made out of marble. They were all the rage these years, and there were three kinds: plastenac (made of plastic), staklenac (staklo=glass) and gvozdenac (gvožđe=iron, gvozden=of iron). The first kind were made of cheap plastic, and often weren't even properly round, the edge of the mold was not always flush, so while the rib would soon wear off, it would veer at random, and even later, any tiny pebble or nugget would knock it a bit off course, as they were too light. The glass ones were more popular but cost at least twice as much, they were nice, and would often have some colorful curlicue inside, and weighed properly. The iron ones were actually steel, balls from the bearings, there were trucks and tractors around. Everyone had about ten plastenac, five or six staklenac, and maybe one gvozdenac. There were cool guys who used a larger gvozdenac, of 15mm instead of 10, which were unfuckable when the opponent's marble needed to be kicked out of the roša, when we played the large roša, as they were heavier.
The playground was either behind my corner, or across at Đuđa's, because that's where the bikes leave the sidewalk and move to the pavement, so there'd be a large triangle of neatly flattened soil, the way only bike tyres can smooth it. The big roša was a hole in the ground, sized about as a child's fist, and the kickoff would go from the line on the ground, I guess six pedalj away from it, by shooting the marble with a thumb from a closed hand, where the hand must not move. Later, in the game, the hand was allowed to be raised a little, specially for that maneuver of expelling others' marbles from the roša. The gvozdenac was better for it than staklenac, and plastenac would barely stand a chance. On the other hand, the shooter may apply too much thumb to the kick, so his marble would also shoot out of the roša, which lent the game more fun and excitement.
The little roša game was done by pressing one marble into half-wet soil and taking it out. The hole was thus marble sized and there was no kicking it out, whoever drives his in, wins. The move was performed by putting a hand flat on the ground, with the marble between index and middle finger, and the other hand's index behind the marble, again moving the hand was against the rule, one finger does it. The speeds were lower and it was more of a game of precision. The best majstors would kick away the oponent's marble when it was too close to the roša, and drive their own in, all in one move.
The prize was the marbles, the winner would take all. Whoever wins three times, goes home with a fat pocket. There were guys who had fifty of them at home. Just like any other skill, practice would make a majstor. I didn't fare too gloriously, won maybe one in six games, breaking more or less even most of the time. The beginner's trouble is that the skill had to be acquired before marbles run out, or else you get out and can't practice and become better. That was usually solved by other players donating one plastenac each to the guy, just to have more players.
Been guests at čiča Rada, somewhere in old Belgrade, where they were tenants in some claptrap space, put together from a former terrace, shed or whatever, which was the more interesting because it didn't have regular walls, just this. The aunt then already had the flowershop in the green market on Banovo Brdo (which I did see few years later, we dropped by to leave or pick something), and from what I heard, was doing fine with it.
Of the whole evening I remember that someone (uncle? someone third? maybe one of his sisters with husband came by?) was making smoke circles and amused us endlessly. Then he recounted a story of a guy who was trying to impress a lady with his near perfect circles, sometimes two concentric ones going through each other, miracles as such, and the lady asked „but can you do triangles?“.
1-XII-2015 - 12-III-2025