Moving

“We have to find a new home,” said Wayne.

“We don’t have much time”

It was January 2015. Wayne just heard the news that we had to move our then thriving paintball field. The landlord announced that the property was sold.

He stood silently for a moment staring at the floor,  pushing his lower lip into a tight frown, then let out a heavy sigh.

“We knew this was coming,” Wayne signed again. “Bridgette sold the property.”

I couldn’t stop the growing quiver in my stomach or ease the emptiness of uncertainty that began to well in my heart. The idea of moving a 20 acre paintball field haunted my thoughts.

“How much time do we have?” I asked.

“We have to be out of there by May. You better start looking.”

Wayne was right. We knew that the time would come when we would have to move what had then become a popular playing ground to players across Southern California. What started as a dream had now become a living reality with hundreds of players populating Action Star Games Paintball Park every weekend.

We knew that the landlord was financially and emotionally unstable and the City of Colton’s plan was to rezone the property to become the home of a large industrial complex. That day had come.

The nerves in my gut began were churning. My entire body felt like it was weighted down with a heavy dark cloak. May was less than 3 months away and we had yet to find a new location.

We had been looking for property for the last three years, not really realizing the difficulty we would run into.

The many cities we approached, only led to a dead end.

Jurupa Hills: “We have no room for a paintball field in Jurupa Hills.”

Redlands: “No, there is no zoning for paintball in Redlands.”

San Bernardino County: “You will have to submit an application and we will have to do a biological study of the entire area.”

A biology study would cost $200,000.00 without any guarantee that we could get the proper permits.

City of Riverside: “No, there is no place for a paintball field in Riverside.”

I scanned the online land search daily until my eyes blurred from staring too long at the computer screen.

As the weeks ticked by, my spirits began to dwindle. I spent many sleepless nights crying, praying for a miracle. Now that we were about to lose the field, it occurred to me that I didn’t  realize the magnitude of what we had created. What began as a private training ground for Cody’s team had now become a thriving business and a popular weekend hang out for paintball players from all over Southern California.

Paintball was how we paid our bills. What were we gaining to do if we couldn’t find the right piece of property?

“Maybe you should call Tim,” said Wayne. “He’s got some connections. He’s developing in the area. Maybe he has some ideas. If he doesn’t answer then send him a text message.”

Wayne was right.  Tim didn’t answer his phone. I sent him a text message.

Two long hours later my phone buzzed with a short reply from Tim, “Call Mark, he’s a councilman in Perris. I think there may be some properties in Peris.”

At the end of his message was a phone number.

Perris? A councilman? It was worth a try.

With a knot in my gut, I pushed the button and dialed Mark’s number.

“Paintball! I would love to see a Paintball field in the City of Perris. Perris is the perfect location. We are known as an entertainment community. We have the Perris Sky Diving, Water Park, Big League of Dreams. We have the Orange County Railroad Museum and we have Perris Lake. When do you have to move?”

Mark’s voice had a calm cheery tone that lifted my spirits.

“Some time in May,” I said.

“You don’t have much time. We have to move quickly. It shouldn’t be a problem getting through planning. I think there’s some land near the airport.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you so much,” I said, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.

“But we haven’t really found a place for you yet. Don’t thank me yet.”

Mark’s enthusiasm gave me hope. Out of the many people I talked to in the last 3 years, Mark was the only person who approved the idea of paintball park in his community.

I couldn’t wait to share my new found hope with Wayne.

“You better find land quick,” said Wayne.  “We have to be out by May 4”

“May 4th!”

The reality I wasn’t ready to face, suddenly hit me hard.

“That’s only two months away!”

His words pierced my heart. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I didn’t want to believe it. This would be the 2nd time we moved the paintball field. We had moved before, re-starting from nothing, on a bare piece of rocky land in Colton California. In the beginning there were only 20 players. Now we were seeing 100 to 200 players and more every Saturday and Sunday.

“We have to tell them,” said Wayne. “We have to tell our players.”

Why was it happening now? How was I going to tell our players?

That night I shuffled through thousands of photographs stored in the memory of my desktop. Hundreds of faces smiled back at me, familiar faces, faces of the people I had grown to love.

Memories flooded my mind, visions of watching Cody play, running across the field with his gun aimed and firing. I loved watching him play. He was light on his feet like a young cat tiptoeing across the field. I could tell when he was ready to sprint or dive up to the next bunker by the way he crouched as if he was about to launch off his feet.

Memories flashed through my mind of dad’s who were frightened by the horror stories they were told by well meaning friends and acquaintances. They were afraid to play paintball and somehow they showed up at the field. I fitted them with padded chest protectors, and face masks to protect their faces. I gave them old padded paintball pants and jackets to help ease their fear.

By the time the day was over Dad and his son were back at the office with bright white grins that lit up their faces.

“That was so much fun!” They cheered. “We’re coming back!”

I watched the memories play across my mind of the many group
hugs that I witnessed on and off the playing field, of people coming together to play paintball.

Seeing all the happy faces and memories filled my heart with a warmth that permeated the room.

By then end of the night a slideshow played across my screen. It was a slideshow with a message. “Thank you to every player who plays paintball on our fields. Thank you for training with us. Thank you for creating shared memories we will remember for the rest of our lives. We appreciate every one of you.”

Before that moment, I never realized just how much I loved them all.

With a flood of warm salty tears streaming down my face, I typed in the final words.

“May 4 will be our last day in Colton.”

It wasn’t until then that I realized what Wayne, Cody and I had built together. It was big. It was huge. It was beautiful. It was something I took for granted, and now it would soon be gone.

I pushed the button on Facebook “publish.” And drifted off to sleep.

6:00 a.m. I could hear the tune of Wayne’s cell phone, then his voice, “Yes it is true. May 4th is our last day in Colton. We have to move.”

I opened my laptop then tuned into our Facebook page.

“Noooo!”

“You can’t close!”

“I don’t want to play anywhere else!”

“You can’t leave us!”

“Noooo! Don’t go!”

“Don’t leave us!”

Overnight the page flooded with comments.

“Look at this!” I said to Wayne. “I’m NOT giving up! We have to find a new location.”

Our players’ replies ran down the page and kept growing.

Before that moment, I didn’t know we meant so much to many of our players. I felt as if my eyes were opened like never before to see the many young faces of players who relied on us to be their weekend hang out, a safe haven where they could spend time with their friends doing something they loved. It was quality time with friends and family that enriched their lives with memories that would go on forever. And now we were about to lose it.

We couldn’t give up. Somewhere, somehow, there had to be the perfect location.

“Start looking in Perris,” said Wayne. His eyes were still focused on the computer screen.

He looked away and said.“Call the realtor.”

“You’re never going to find anything in Perris,” said the realtor. “Everything in Perris is going for big money. Big industry is moving there. But, there is one piece of property that’s a possibility. I’ll give you the address.”

By then, we had been searching for a new location for 3 years.

Wayne and I jumped into the car and drove the windy roads through the back country of Perris. The dry brown terrain was speckled with giant grey boulders.

“Google Maps says we turn here. I said, looking at the screen on my phone.

“This doesn’t look like the address.” The property led to a dead end.

“Maybe we took a wrong turn.”

After two hours of driving the property could not be found.

“I really don’t think they checked it out,” I said. My heart began to sink with a heavy dark gloom.

“It doesn’t look like they check anything out. Maybe we’re dealing with the wrong realtor. Maybe we should be dealing with someone in Perris. I saw a sign back in town. Can we drive through town again so I can write down the name?”

The uncertainty of the future of our paintball field, and our personal life left my gut churning. We knew that everything was about to change. We just didn’t know how.

Wayne and I drove back through the small city streets of Perris. I saw the sign again on a building that was nestled between a liquor store and a grey office building.

“That’s it!” I said and wrote down the name, Lander’s Realty.

With a twinkle of hope in my heart, I looked up the number and pushed in the digits.

“Yes I can help you,” said the voice.

“Perris would be the perfect location for your paintball field. I think I know of a possibility. It’s near the Perris airport. I’ll talk to the land owner and then we can meet at the property tomorrow.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” said Wayne as we drove across the grey streets of Perris.

“I don’t want you to get too disappointed if it’s not the right property.”

The sun was shining overhead in a crisp blue sky as we drove down Redlands Blvd to Ellis Avenue in Perris.

There was nothing but a recycling plant at the end of the street that turned onto Ellis where the property lie.

The land was dry and barren, except for the low grey brown shrubbery that scattered across the land. I could see the twinkling sunlight reflecting off the multitude of cars driving down the 215 freeway a short distance away.

The only thing that surrounded the property was farmland that was barren and dry.

“This is perfect,” said Wayne as we stood on the pitted cracked street, scanning over the vast vacant land.

“I think there’s water here too,” said Al.

“And there may be electricity lines.”

As I stood looking across the vacant property, I could see a sprinkling of sky divers falling through the air in the distance.

Would this become our new home in the very near future?

“This is perfect,” Wayne said again.

Moving 15 acres of heavy concrete pipe and wooden crates that we used as bunkers, tearing down and setting up 12’ high paintball nets was an unimaginable task that lie ahead of us. Somehow, it had to be done if we could only secure the property.

“I talked to the land owner. He has an offer on the table, but I’m not sure it’s going to go through,” said Al. “I wanted you to see this property, but we’ll just keep looking.”

As we got closer to our final day in Colton, Al continued to show us several possible properties.

Nothing else he showed us would qualify.

A suitable property for a paintball field is not easy to find in Southern California. Paintball has it’s own unique requirements. It must be in a vacant area, far enough away from housing or businesses. It needs to be close enough to our players. It needs to have the proper zoning requirements that would allow outdoor sporting like paintball.

It was Sunday morning April 26, 1 week before our closing day in Colton. We had yet to find and secure a new location. My nerves were on edge as I walked around the parking lot, greeting our players with my video camera filming the players as they waved back at me with grins on their faces.

“Do you know where you’re going to move to?” Asked one of our players. He was dressed in a slick red and black paintball jersey and black padded paintball pants. His black plastic paintball mask was propped up and back on his head. It was Mario, from Team Inferno.

“Not yet,” I sighed. “Not yet.”

“Can you tell me what paintball means to you?” I asked. “Can I film you?”

“I love it here,” said Mario. “Playing paintball here at ASG has helped me keep my son out of trouble. It helps us stay close as father and son.”

Mario’s dark tanned face was speckled with tiny droplets of sweat. He wiped the sweat off his brow and said,

“I don’t know what we would do with out ASG. I don’t want to play anywhere else.”

Mario shook his head slowly and looked down at his feet.

I could almost detect a tear in his eye and a shakiness in his voice as he spoke.

My gut choked as I stood listening with the camera held up to my eye. Heavy tears began to fill the corners of my eyes.

Mario was the 5th person that day who told me that paintball helped him keep his family together. His story was one of many I heard on the paintball fields just as we were about to close our doors in Colton.

I could not deny what I was hearing from the mouths of our players. There was no giving up. I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t give up.

Something tugged at my heart and brought back a memory. It was something I read in scripture and something that Dorothy taught us in class.

“When two or more ask in my name, it shall be done.”

I knew I had to find someone to pray with right then and there, and I wanted to pray from the highest point possible.

Oz, a player we had known since we first began in 2006 walked up and said, “Do you have a new location yet?”

“Not yet,” I said. Knowing that Oz was a believer in prayer I dared to ask. “Will you pray with me?”

“Sure.”

Oz and I climbed onto the man lift and rose up as high as we could go. Overlooking the 20 acres of the Colton location, I almost couldn’t believe what I saw. 10 acres of bunkers made of concrete pipes, wooden crates, plastic tubing, wooden spools and whatever else showed up on the property surrounded by paintball netting. The parking lot that was packed and coated with black asphalt grindings was filled with cars. There were lines and crowds of people everywhere I looked. Wayne had created his own field of dreams at Action Star Games in the short time since we began in Colton.

We had only been at the Colton location for 5 years and look what we had created. Now we were about to lose it. The pit of my gut squished up and tears were falling down my cheeks, Oz and I prayed together, thanking God for all the wonderful years we spent playing paintball. I thanked God for the many lives we changed through paintball and the many young people we watched grow up.

“If you want us to continue with Action Star Games Paintball, please Father God, show me how,” I whispered softly.

Oz and I stood there quietly high up on the lift, gazing across the field that had come together in the last 5 years.

I looked at Oz and said, “I guess it’s time you get out there and play.” then pushed the lever as the lift slowly descended.

Later that afternoon my cell phone rang, “Hi Karen. I have some good news!”

It was Al, our realtor.

“Ben is ready to sign the lease!”

“Really?” My heart was pounding with a dash of new hope.

“Yes, he’s ready to sign! Are your taxes ready yet?”

“My accountant is still working on them, I’m pretty sure he’s almost done,” I said. “Maybe I can get him to finish them quickly.”

“Well, do your best. Ben wants us to meet him on Tomorrow at 2:00” said Al. “You’ll also need a credit report and some recent bank statements. Call me tomorrow.”

How was I going to get my taxes done, picked up and delivered in time? And how was I supposed to get a credit report overnight?

The land owner was ready to sign, and I was not quite prepared.

My heart was racing. My mind was flying. There just had to be a way.

“Yes, I can have them ready by 10:00 a.m.” said Ken, our accountant. “Can you come in and pick them up?”

“Yes, we can do the credit report here at the bank,” said my banker. “Just come in as soon as you can.”

It was 9:00 a.m., one hour before we were to meet with our accountant, 4 1/2 hours before we would meet with the land owner. The accountant’s office was 20 minutes away. The land owner was 45 minutes away.

After running around all morning everything seemed to fall into place. We managed to get our credit reports from the bank and a completed set taxes before 12:30.

The lease was signed at 3:00 p.m. at “The Bomb Shelter” a small restaurant at the Perris Airport, 5 days before our final day in Colton.

On the drive home from Perris, my mind lit up with the memory of Oz and I standing on the lift pouring out our hearts as we prayed together.

Had we just witnessed the miracle of prayer?

It was Sunday May 4, 2015 our final day in Colton. The paintball park was packed. It was a day like any other day, there were players walking off the field with white wide grins lighting up their faces.

People were chattering loudly, “Did you see me bunker that guy?”

Players were laughing. Players were smiling.

Some of the players didn’t want to leave and we kept the field open late for some last and final games.

“Are you sad about closing?” Asked George. “Are you sad about leaving Colton?”

“No,” I said. “I’m happy we found a new home.”

As I heard my own voice answer the question, something deep within my gut shuttered with uncertainty.

In 2010, 4 years after we built our tournament field in Bloomington, we were forced by the county to move off of our own property. The county gave us two months to clear the paintball field off of my own land, because “somebody complained.”

Moving from Bloomington to Colton was less than 5 miles down the street. It was just the tournament field and parking lot that had to be moved.

In 2015, moving from Colton to Perris was a 23 mile, 45 minute drive with 13 fields, 15 acres of paintball bunkers, props, netting, storage trailers and equipment. It was a massive task I was not ready to face.

This would be the second time we had to uproot and move. It was the 2nd time we were given a short deadline to get off the property. Why was it happening again?

Was there something hidden within my own mental programming that caused us to fall just as we were starting to thrive?