From the battered folding chair on our screened-in porch, I watched little girls hop along their crooked chalk masterpieces and jump rope with colorful, dusty hands. Further down, their brothers weaved between parked cars lining the cramped street, kicking a frayed soccer ball and hollering, “I’m Hugo Sánchez!” “No, I’m Sánchez! You’re Ferretti!” When a car entered the neighborhood, they practiced their footwork on the sidewalk art, sticking their tongues out at the displea