On many mornings, Daniel Goldstein wakes to the sound of work crews demolishing the neighborhood around his Brooklyn apartment. Every crash and bang is a reminder that it may only be a matter of time before the wreckers come for his home, too.

The 40-year-old and his wife and daughter are among a handful of holdouts still living on several once-thriving urban blocks being cleared to make way for a new arena for the NBA's Nets.

The place isn't quite a ghost town, but it's getting there.

Goldstein's family is the only one left in their nine-story condominium building. Everyone else sold out years ago when the team's owner, the developer Bruce Ratner, offered nearly double what their homes were worth to try to get control of the site quickly.

Other owners have cleared out, too. The two biggest apartment buildings nearby have been vacant for some time. Several structures have been reduced to rubble.

A hardy few _ the stray tenant here, the homeowner there _ remain.

As Goldstein's neighbors negotiated rich buyout deals, he ignored invitations to join the talks and instead became the lead spokesman for a neighborhood group opposed to the arena plan.

Money wasn't the issue. Nor did he have any burning love for the neighborhood _ not initially, anyway. He only bought his place a few months before the arena project was announced.

He just didn't like the idea of being pushed around.

"I made a commitment to myself that I wasn't going to be forced to sell. ... I wasn't going to be pressured or bullied," he said. "I didn't know what that would mean. But I knew I was committing myself to it."

Only now is the cost of defiance becoming clear.

After a six-year fight, the state has begun the final legal steps to seize the family's condo using eminent domain law and hand it to Ratner's company.

In November, Goldstein got a letter saying the state planned to pay him $510,000, about $80,000 less than what he paid in 2003.

That's a fraction of what Ratner was offering years ago, and nowhere near what he needs to buy a comparable place in the same part of Brooklyn.

Other remaining residents will get even less.

Years ago, Ratner's representatives offered David Sheets $75,000 to give up his rent-regulated apartment.

He turned them down, in part because they insisted he sign a gag order and stop criticizing the project.

"Essentially, they wanted me to sign away my citizenship," he said.

Now, all he's being offered is a little help finding another place to live. In the meantime, life on the block has gotten tougher.

He spent much of 2008 without gas or electricity when the city ripped up the street.