Tag Archives: king of jewish baseball

WINTER MEETINGS

7 Dec

Ladies and Geetles, it’s that magical time of year again, the only date on the calendar recognized by every major religion on Earth, when half-rain turns to half-snow, and slush from the truck in front of you is whipped violently against your windshield, just as the natural laws of the universe intended it to be. No, it’s not Christmas, not yet, at least, not Hannukah, not Kwanzaa – That’s right, you guessed it, Major League Baseball’s winter meetings, aka THE GREAT WINTER BASEBALL CIRCUS.

This year, winter meetings were held at the Gaylord National Resort in Maryland, a gigantic convention center overlooking the Potomac River. The meetings featured baseball’s largest off-season blockbuster trades, free agent signings, a lobby full of hopeful twenty-four year-old future general managers looking to land spring internships, and the bearded woman, of course. Amongst the agents and ferris wheel operators was none other than yours truly, the one, the only, the King of All Jewish Baseball.

As sovereign leader of the Clandestine Worldwide Jewish Baseball Community, I was immediately catapulted into the upper levels of Winter Meetings, secret lunches with other world leaders, illuminating if brief appearances at press conferences, and exclusive events.

It was my first time at the meetings, so the vets – my extensive network of former teammates, scouts, and fellow brothers from Team Israel, took me under their wing, showed me the ropes, told me what to see, and what to avoid. So now, without further ado, I, King of Jewish Baseball, using only the boundless power of my mind, and a new technology called “the internet”, will show you what I saw, an insiders guide, if you will, to Major League Baseball’s 2016 Winter Meetings…

The Gaylord National Resort, home of the 2016 winter meetings.

A photograph from the lobby at winter meetings. This image represents roughly 10% of the interns.

Some of the heavy hitters from winter meetings.

A couple of studs from Team Israel.

https://www.facebook.com/worldbaseballclassic/videos/1309974819073666/

AMERICA

13 Sep

I arrived to America September 11th, 2016. It was a Sunday. An American Football game played on a giant television at the airport and an even bigger American flag hung over the entrance to US customs like a blanket too thin to keep you warm. The smell of cinnamon buns and shiny little hot dogs filled the air. Eagles soared high overhead. Security guards chased the eagles with insufficiently sized butterfly-nets screaming, “How did these eagles get in here?” as the birds swooped down attacking us. Ah yes, this was really it, the America I had heard of, land of opportunity… and everything else.

Here in America they speak a language called English. I understand every word. It is amazing. Bushy tailed animals called squirrels stand on their hind legs and look at you then run up a tree. When people make eye contact, they acknowledge each others existence with a smile or a nod as opposed to simply staring blankly at one another, the traditional Middle Eastern greeting. The money is green and thick as t-shirts. Giant trees and shopping malls grow from the cool, moist earth. The streets are wide and bumpy from the changing weather. They call these “seasons”. They say it will be “autumn” soon, whatever that is.

I do not know of these things. I am but a simple man from a far-off land called Israel where I was once a King. In Israel, water does not fall from the sky. The rocks have been turned to dust, trampled by 10,000 years of conquering armies and our unforgiving sun god Ra. It will take some getting used to. For now, a nice family has taken me in. I live in a small room in their home. I am like Brooks in the film Shawshank Redemption. I must be reintroduced to society after so many years away. And likes Brooks, I must stand on my wobbly little stool and chisel my name into the rafters overhead, into the book of life– wait, Brooksy hanged himself, well then like Morgan Freeman’s character, the one who did not hang himself, but instead went out into the world to pack groceries and fulfill his dreams. That’s right, Ladies and Geetles, theKing of Jewish Baseball is back and ready to rock. Using only the power of imagination, and other new technology, we will go on this adventure together. Like the poet Big Boi used to say… “Me and you/Your mama and your cousin too.”

Team Israel reports this Thursday for the 2016 World Baseball Classic Qualifier. We’ll roll into Brooklyn early next week, a few days before the games begin. Here we go, again, like last time, but better. I am not sure how much writing I will be able to do. I may have to resort to short hand to keep you all updated, so check me and other members of the team out on anti-social media.

See you all at the ballpark.

http://www.worldbaseballclassic.com/schedule/#/qualifying-round

AMSTERDAM

15 Aug

Once a year, coaches and scouts from around Europe swarm like locust and gather at Major League Baseball’s Elite Camp for the top young prospects on the continent. This year, camp was in Hoofddorp, Holland, at the new Hoofddorp Pioneers complex. Dutifully, I, King of All Jewish Baseball, made an appearance.  That’s right, Ladies and Geetles, it’s true, I went to Amsterdam for camp, and to allow the Dutch people to see me in person, from my balcony, of course.

I fly home to Israel tonight and do not have much time to write, so I will let the magical new artform known as photography tell the story for me. So sit back, relax, and be transported through the lens of my iphone into to a slightly over-crowded fantasy land called Amsterdam, where the streets are liquid, the fairies fly, and the bicycles never stop.

Good morning, Dudes.

Good morning, Dudes. Time to stretch.

Steve Finley going over the finer points of base running and post WWII European economics with the guys.

Coach Finley going over the finer points of base running and post WWII European economics.

It's Dave Bush! Used to play aginst him in college when he was at Wake Forrest. Sad story. I went on to become the King of Jewish Baseball and just dissapeared into oblivion, only pitched 10 years in the Major Leagues for the Blue Jays and Brewers. Pathetic.

It’s Dave Bush! Used to play aginst him in college when he was at Wake Forrest. Sad story. I went on to become the King of Jewish Baseball and he just dissapeared into oblivion,  pitching 10 years in the Major Leagues for the Blue Jays and Brewers. Pathetic!

My Cincinnati brother, and the 2nd best short stop at camp, Barry Larkin (and Fin) talks to the guys before lunch. Practice in the mornings. Games in the afternoons. Meetings at night.

My Cincinnati brother (and the 2nd best short stop at camp) Barry Larkin, and the King of Irish Baseball, Steve Finley, talk to the guys before lunch. Practice in the morning. Games in the afternoon. Meetings at night.

This is the life for me.

This is the life for me.

Get me the hell out of that BASEBALL PRISON. I need culture. Take me to Amsterdam.

Get me the hell out of that baseball prison. I require culture, and house boats. Take me to Amsterdam.

What a dump.

What a dump.

Don't jump little dude! OK. Now you can jump.

Don’t jump little dude! OK. Now you can jump.

Take me to the people. Show me how they live.

Take me to the people. Show me how they live.

Amsterdam, Amsterdam. Man o Man. Amsterdam, Amsterdam. I'm lost in Amsterdam.

Amsterdam, Amsterdam. Man o Man. Amsterdam, Amsterdam. I’m lost in Amsterdam.

 

THE B POOL

3 Aug

We came up short, again. It’s the cycle. Try, fail, try again, fail again, try again. Failure is the rule, success is the exception, in baseball, at least. Pain is the rule, health is the exception. It goes like this…

Prepare. Practice. Play.

Focus. Fixate. Fantasize.

Nothing else matters. Put everything on hold. Do it after the tournament. No calls. No emails. Stay with the guys, the team, the group. Eyes on the prize. No distractions. No pain. Ignore the hip. Nothing hurts. Play hard. Put it on the line. Don’t leave the hotel. Don’t waste energy. Rest. There’s another game tomorrow. Good vibes.

We win the first 3. Beat Belarus big. Barely beat Poland. Beat Austria big. We’re rolling. Eitan hits a walk-off slam against Poland. We can’t lose…

Then, we do lose, it goes wrong, against Lithuania, a team we should beat, every time. The nightmare. 7 errors. Day game after a night game. Try to rally. Get it together. Get the energy up. Can’t do it.  These tournaments are not normal. Everyone wants to win. We’re playing for our countries. Every game is game 7. The night before, the Austrian fans were still in the stands going crazy after 3 hours in the rain in the 9th inning with their team losing 10-1, cheering, drinking, singing. It’s intense.

We lose again the next day to Sweden, barely. Dean starts the game. Deano. Best pitcher there. I like our chances. It’s a good game. Back and Forth. We’re winning 5-4 in the top of the 9th. Dean throws 140 pitches. Go to Shlo. Definitely Shlo. Big Shlo. The Magic man. Shlo already has 2 wins in the tournament including a complete game 2 days earlier against Austria. But Sweden scores 5 runs in the 9th, 9-5, them. Shit.

We can still do it. One guy at a time.

We score 3 runs to make it 8-9. Single, single, single, passed ball, single, passed ball, single. They’re nervous. Simon is on 1st, the tying run. I am up, the winning run. 2 outs. I can hit one out to win it, hit one in the gap to score Simon from 1st, or at least get on base and keep the rally alive. It’s perfect. I am the one, the King of Jewish Baseball, the captain, couldn’t script it better. I want to be up there, and I think the guys want me to be up there too. I feel good, already have 2 hits in the game. Ball 1. Ball 2. Take a strike. Strike 1. 2 and 1, perfect, fastball count, my pitch, see it, hit it. Ground ball to short, shit, in the hole, at least, maybe it will get through. But he makes the play. That’s it. It’s over.

The guys. Damn.

Let go. Let the pain set in. Be tired. See how bad the hip is. It’s bad. Don’t fight it anymore. Get a drink. Stay up all night. Get sick. Fly home. Go back to work. Life. Reality. Tell everyone you lost, 3rd place out of 6. They tell you it’s OK with a hint of pity.  It is not. Think about the games. Write a blog post. The 2-1 fastball. How did that happen? How did I not hit it out of the park, or in a gap somewhere, at least? Was Sweden the better team?

If we played badly, it would be easier to understand. But we didn’t. We were good. We averaged 8 runs a game. Our pitchers did a good job. The top 5 hitters in our line-up all hit over .400 with on base percentages over .600. Our 3, 4 hitters had 20 RBIs in 5 games. Our pitchers had the lowest ERA in the tournament. Austria and Sweden were good, but we were just as good, maybe better.

Usually writing about it makes it feel better. Not this time. The hip hurts. Maybe we just need time. Next European Championship is in 2 years. I’ll be 37. Damn. The cycle. The disappointment. The hope. We did good. People know us now. They know we’re good. We were close. We can do it. The young guys can do it. It’ll be their turn next time.

DSC_3796

Brothers. The 2015 Israel National Team. I love you guys.

ISRAEL BASEBALL ACADEMY

3 Nov

Forget the Dominican Republic, Israel is the new hotbed for young baseball talent.  That’s right, Ladies and Geetles, the Israel Baseball Academy has officially been launched like a pumpkin violently shot from a cannon.  We’ve hand picked 11 of our finest young players, and we’re putting them to the test every week, literally, measuring their body fat, grip strength, positional velocity, blind taste test, and overall curatorial sensabilites, and reporting it all back to none other than Major League Baseball himself.   I now present to you, using only a wide angle lense, and my own squinting eye, the Inaugural Class of the Israel Baseball Academy.

Shlomo Lipman. 17 years-old.  RHP/IF. Bet Shemesh.

Shlomo Lipman. 17 years-old. RHP/IF. Bet Shemesh.

Ori Wachspress. 16 years-old. RHP/IF. Modiin.

Ori Wachspress. 16 years-old. RHP/IF. Modiin.

Noam Calisar. 17 years-old. SS. Benyamina.

Noam Calisar. 17 years-old. SS. Benyamina.

Tal Erel. 18 years-old. C. Tel Aviv.

Tal Erel. 18 years-old. C. Tel Aviv.

Ilan Klein. 19 years-old. RHP/IF. Bet Shemesh.

Ilan Klein. 19 years-old. RHP/IF. Bet Shemesh.

Assaf Lowengart. 16 years-old. RHP/IF. Timorim.

Assaf Lowengart. 16 years-old. RHP/IF. Timorim.

Avi Watson. 17 years-old. LHP/1B. Bet Shemesh.

Avi Watson. 17 years-old. LHP/1B. Bet Shemesh.

Roye Shelem. 19 years-old. OF. Tel Aviv.

Roye Shelem. 19 years-old. OF. Tel Aviv.

Yoav Moeded. 17 years-old. IF. Kibbutz Gezer.

Yoav Moeded. 17 years-old. IF. Kibbutz Gezer.

Ofer Bobrov. 15 years-old. RHP/OF. Misgav.

Ofer Bobrov. 15 years-old. RHP/OF. Misgav.

Yotam Ben Amran.  17 years-old. RHP.  Bet Nir. Missed picture day.

Yotam Ben Amran. 17 years-old. RHP. Bet Nir. Missed picture day…

It’s happening.  One practice at a time.  One squat, one pitch, one tire-flip at a time.  The Israel Baseball Academy has arrived.

http://www.jpost.com/Israel-News/Sports/First-Israel-baseball-academy-could-be-a-real-game-changer-380221

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