Why kick sand on this city gem?

Through covering sports and the kids of this city, I have seen and heard it all about New London and its people.

I've seen football players go through the postgame handshake line and duck shot glasses thrown at them from the gallery. Nearly got hit myself.

I've heard racial epithets in countless places.

I even heard an administrator at a high school north of Norwich tell former athletic director Jim O'Neill, "gee, your kids really behaved well today," as if the expectation must have been they'd burn down the gym or start a melee. Hey, they're from New London.

I'm numb to it by now. Except every once in a while. This is a once in a while. This past weekend's episode at Ocean Beach Park, during which an incident in the parking lot became a cause celebre, produced such predictable prattle. Like the inevitable, if not idiotic, speculation that such bad press would keep people away from Ocean Beach for fear of safety.

Arrests at Ocean Beach! Typical New London! Typical New London!

Sorry. But I just can't take it anymore. I've grown weary of how every ice cube suddenly becomes a Titanic-sinker. Every slight, every negative story inflates to the size of a passenger's side air bag and must become a referendum about the city and its people.

Know who is going to stay away from Ocean Beach because of the recent incident? People who wouldn't have come in the first place. Know why? Because their fears, borne of ignorance, wouldn't allow it.

Then there's this: If you stay away from Ocean Beach because it's in New London and the aforementioned incident may cause you consternation, we don't want you here in the first place. Stay in the comfortable confines of suburbia, land of the free, home of the brave. Adopt the musings of a few of our social commentators who enlightened us the other day with the following ruminations:

Only fat people were in the photo accompanying the story. And the behavior exhibited was the work of "typical losers from the Hartford area."

Ah, such tolerance. Makes you want to channel your inner Louie Armstrong and belt out a few choruses of "What a Wonderful World" doesn't it?

Dave Sugrue and his gang do a wonderful job at Ocean Beach. Always have. It is the best of the city. The police — led by Chief Reichard — are the best. Period. Retired the trophy. This is called a good combination. And it's about time all of us understand this.

Ocean Beach has always had an almost mythical appeal. First story I ever heard about the place came

came at the Thames Barber Shop where they hearkened the days of Thanksgiving night and the annual beginning of the city basketball league.

Only the best sports night of the year in town.

One day last month, I entered the gates of Ocean Beach, huffing and puffing along toward the finish line, humming "Chariots of Fire." The end of the Winthrop 5K Road Race.

It was here that a friend watching the runners reminded me that his 6-year-old grandson had long since finished, eliciting a few chuckles.

And so I finished, too, in the dust of a first-grader. But in the ensuing moments, regathering my thoughts and my breath, I began to meander about Ocean Beach, seeing this gem all over again. And I thought: We are so lucky to have this among us. Seriously. How many other cities, even in Shoreline towns, have a comparable attraction? I'd like to think we can all appreciate it more, not less. What's not to like? Water, beach, ice cream, rides, a pool, splash park and restaurant. And it's all ours.

And this is what we do: Welcome "those people from Hartford" and everywhere else. Because it's New London.

Tolerance. Diversity. Those old things.

I'm getting my season pass this week. How about you? Summer days filled with fun. Summer nights with myriad activities. This is Ocean Beach. This is us. Let's try to enjoy it. This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro.