THE PREMIER LEAGUE

20 Oct

Just got back from a workout.  I don’t know why, after all these years, I am still doing it. The insanity of athletics is doing the same thing over and over as if it was the first time, with the same excitement, more, even, to jump hurdles, every day, or take a thousand ground balls, or run sprints on the beach, in the dark, alone.

We started our season, all of us, here in Israel, the kids, and the Old Guys like me.  I will tell you all about the kids’ teams, as, by now, faithful reader, you must know, but, for now, I will tell you about our adult league in Israel, the Premier League.

There are 4 teams in the PL; The Raanana Raiders, The Modiin Miracles, The Tel Aviv Comrades, and the Jerusalem Lions.  I am on the Lions.  We are 2, 2, and 1, so far, according to our website (www.baseball.org.il), with 2 forfeits, not having the required 8 player minimum.  A few days ago, in my second PL game, we played Raanana.  We won 8-5.  We had 8 guys, played with 2 outfielders, left-center, and right-center, but still managed a win.

The atmosphere was electric, let me tell you.  There was even a fan, the shadow of a fan, at least, in the dark, behind the backstop, watching, quietly.  You could hear the insects around our field like the faint echo of Major League playoff crowds 7,000 miles away, a total of 18 of us between the two teams, 21 counting the fan and 2 umps, some of us not even in uniform, under the lights, at Baptist Village, an orphanage turned baseball field that I also still have to tell you about, and shoot video of.

I am not sure why or what I am writing, exactly.  I suppose I just wanted to reassure you, as I know how it effects your sense of All That Is Right, I am still practicing, and still playing.  I might even still be getting better.  But probably not.

I must apologize for not having any magical images, moving or not, to accompany this post, only these words, this time, sitting at my desk, looking down at the hole I have worn in my sock.  Wait…

photo-2

HOME

13 Oct

I am in the air, in a plane, somewhere high above the Atlantic Ocean, between New York and Rome, where I switch planes, back to Tel Aviv.

I like being on the plane.  There’s nothing to do but sit here, and fly the plane, of course.  Faithful reader, you must know, being a King of Jewish Baseball can be busy, but, briefly, here and now, I sit alone.

I left Israel a week ago, left my new home for my old home.  What, I am sure you are wondering, was the occasion that could pull me away from the glorious ranks of Elementary-Level Hebrew Speaker?  My niece and nephew were born, two future geniuses, the Duke and Dutchess of Jewish Baseball…

The Duke and Dutchess of Future Jewish Baseball

The Future Duke and Dutchess of Jewish Baseball

So just three months after saying goodbye to everyone and everything in New York, forever, I was back.  New York, surprisingly, still stands, sturdy, wide roads, comparatively high sidewalks, steel, brick, a mountain.  I drove past the Baseball Academy where I used to work, I ate salad, listened to the new Drake record on 97.1, picked up baseball gear to bring back to the kids here, I used a flip phone, I was jet-lagged, I slept on different couches and beds each night, I was tired.  I am not used to Israel yet, but, I know, too, I am not a New Yorker anymore.  I am between worlds, ghostly, in the world, but not of it, a King without a Land, exile.

Jewish Baseball Santa Clause

Jewish Santa Clause is coming

And then, suddenly, it was today, time to leave.  I have 10 hours until we land in Israel, and it’s back to Raziel 11, to life as leader of the Free Jewish Baseball World.  I will get back to the Raze and go through e-mails.  I tried to keep up, but failed.

This morning, be fore I left, Danny and Callie gave me something, a well-timed gift to remind me who I am.

IMG_3767

I have a job to do, for everyone back in New York, for everyone in Israel, for Luca and Leo.  I may just be a poor Jewish kid from Cleveland, and you are almost certainly just an unwashed mental patient, reading a blog in your underpants at 2 in the morning, but we are somebody!

It’s time to hit the ground, and hit the grind.  There is work to be done.

—-

http://www.haaretz.com/news/sports/.premium-1.550355

SUCCOT

26 Sep

It is that magical time of year again, Succot, the GREAT CELEBRATION OF TREES TO BE TURNED INTO WOODEN BATS, when we construct batting cages to sleep in for 8 days and 8 nights.

In Israel, I have learned, to commemorate our great history, for one full month each year, NO ONE DOES ANYTHING.  No one works.  There is no school.  No one answers their phones.  And this year, that month was September.

What little American remains in me cannot accept simply doing nothing for an entire month, for we are machines, rugged individuals, each of us a factory, industrialists, existing on sheer will, brut force, and reality TV.  So I went to the wise sage Neon Leon Klarfeld, King of All Jewish Safety, Wellbeing, and Barbecues, and we devised a master plan, over chicken wings and ginger ale, of course.  We discussed creation, how to make somethingness in this extended period of nothingness.  We activated the QUITE POWERFUL BEAM OF LIGHT, the KOJB signal, if you will, and gathered our staff of coaches.  We packed our cars with bags of squishy baseballs, batting tees, home plates, baseball cards, foam bats, and flyers, and headed out into the brutal countryside to deliver nourishment like mana to the baseball starved youth of Israel for the 1st Annual Succot Baseball Clinics- a couple of regular Jewish Baseball Santa Clauses.

the KOJB mobile

the KOJB mobile

We went to 4 locations in 4 days; Jerusalem, Raanana, Kibbutz Gezer, and Tel Aviv.  We practiced together under the hot sun, Leon and I meeting early each morning, him limping, stiff from the day before, making us Turkish coffee on his portable propane stove, me pulling the car up as close as possible to unload, paperwork, schedule, set-up, here come the kids.  Each place we visited, a small green-blue-orange baseball flame was ignited, sure to become a raging bonfire of light by Hanukah, 150 kids in 4 days, the spirit of the game, so many high-fives.

Jerusalem

Jerusalem

David Schenker, the Toughest Man in Jewish Baseball (http://kingofjewishbaseball.com/2013/07/09/david/), teaches proper ground ball technique.

David Schenker, the Toughest Man in Jewish Baseball (http://kingofjewishbaseball.com/2013/07/09/david/), teaches proper ground ball technique.

Raanana

Raanana

Kibbutz Gezer

Kibbutz Gezer

Nate Fish, King of Jewish Baseball, talking to the kids early one Succot morning.

Nate Fish, King of Jewish Baseball, talks to the kids early one Succot morning.

Today is the final day of Succot, and the final day of the holidays. Tomorrow, Friday, people will be returning to school and work for a grueling half-day, it is, after all, a holiday, again, a time to relax, the Sabbath.

—-

Thank you to all the coaches who came out to help.  We’re doing it.

THE KING OF JEWISH ICE CREAM

21 Sep

Ladies and Gentiles, Jews, Buddhist Hermaphrodites, Babies, all Animals you think of when you think of the forrest, unite, if only for this brief peaceful moment together.  I, King of All Jewish Baseball, proudly introduce to you, David “Leich Cream” Leichman, from this day forward known always and forever exclusively as… THE KING OF ALL JEWISH ICE CREAM.

Leich Cream.

“Leich Cream” Leichman

David is from Queens originally.  He is left handed.  And his name… is David.  I mention these 3 things because everyone in israel is from Queens, is left handed, and is named David.  I’ve noticed a disproportionate number of lefties here in Israel and in the GREAT SECRET WORLDWIDE JEWISH COMMUNITY  in general.  This is most certainly a result of generations of careful use of our left hands in chiseling commandments and shoe making, and, of course, inbreeding.  Even as I now lay here on my endless purple velvet carpet, receiving my afternoon massage, listening to live whale calls, per usual, there’s a garbage bag of lefty gloves in the trunk of my car to give to kids, and I’m scrambling for more.  My own father is from New York, and is left handed, but was for some reason named Jerome, not David, and never moved to Israel.  But I digress, point is, all of these things make David a prototypical American Israeli, except for 1 thing, 2 things, actually, 2 things that make him of certain interest to us here, 1) HE MAKES AMAZING FUCKING ICE CREAM, and 2) He built the first baseball field in Israel.  So stick with me as, using only the power handed down to me from a long line of Jewish Baseball Magicians, and the internet, and the voice recorder on my phone, of course, I weave these two seemingly separate threads together into a single king-sized literary silk sheet.  We’ll start with the Ice Cream.

David's grandfather at his ice cream shop in Manhattan.

David’s grandfather at his ice cream shop in Manhattan.

It appears, in hind site, considering the photo above, that David was certain to become the Greatest Jewish Ice Cream Maker of All Time, and, somewhat less, maybe even to be the wizard responsible for building the first baseball field in Israel.  But he didn’t know it at the time, the poison of the present, the disguise of destiny.  He was just a kid.  And like all kids in New York City at the time, he liked ice cream, and baseball.  By the time he was in Middle School, David was eating three ice cream sandwiches every day for lunch.

David at his Bar Mitvah.

David’s Bar Mitvah

In 1974, a friend gave David his first ice cream machine, a simple wooden bucket with a silver crank on the side that had come from Vermont.  David moved to Berkley.  He took his machine with him. He met a man with an Ice Cream Shop named Old Uncle Gaylord who taught him how to use the machine.  David moved to Israel to live and work on a kibbutz.  He took his machine with him again.

David's buckets

David’s ice cream buckets

By 1982, David was living with the group he had moved with from California on Kibbutz Gezer.  They were Israeli now.  They worked the fields.  They were tan and strong.  They spoke Hebrew.  But one thing did not change, they still loved baseball, and they would all get together once a week to play on a semi-flat, dry, cracked piece of land between houses on the Kibbutz.

All around the country, on weekends, on shabbat, Americans who had moved here to live and work started gathering to play baseball and softball.  Finally, Ed Friedman, long time Director of the Israel Softball Association, contacted American journalists in Tel Aviv who also played and they ran an ad for players.  It said, “JOE DIMAGGIO, WHERE ARE YOU?”, and like that, baseball and softball were born in Israel.  It was the first effort towards organized teams here.   There was one problem, it is the same problem we still have.  There were no fields.

David, like all of us, was a bit lost at times when he moved here.  He was a New Yorker.  He said in our interview he needed two things to orient himself.  He needed a land mark, a place to hang out and meet friends.  He had come from a grid, a land of 90 degree angles, a place where you could exactly locate someone with a street name and cross street.  And now he how was living on open land.  What he needed was a corner.  And he needed a baseball field.  After years of working as the chef on the kibbutz, he was now the head of building, and he was in a position to make it happen.

David took a tractor and started flattening a smallish plot of land near where they had their weekly games.  At the same time, a man named Velvl Lehr (No, that is not a typo, just a great name), back in New York, who David did not know, died.  And the fortune of baseball in Israel was forever effected.

Velvl loved Israel, and baseball.  He was involved with an organization called “Habonim” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Habonim_Dror), which translates to “The Builders”.  Someone who knew Velvl knew David, and knew David was building the field at Kibbutz Gezer.  One day when he was on the tractor, the phone in the kibbutz office rang for David.  The office manager came out to the field.  David climbed off the tractor and rode his bike to the office while the person on the other end did what is now unthinkable, they waited patiently.  The caller told David that in honor of Velvl, Habonim would like to make a donation of 30,000 dollars to the project.  David was now able to add grass and a backstop to his field, and he and the Kibbutz named the field “Hombo”, short for Habonim.

Hombo Field at Kibbutz Gezer.

Hombo Field at Kibbutz Gezer.

David is an ice cream genius, a baseball fan, and an activist extraordinaire.  By 1997, through charitable work, he had created a relationship between two sister cities.  In America, Kansas City.  And in Israel, Ramla, a mixed, predominantly Arab city 15 minutes from Kibbutz Gezer.  Two places that have nothing in common, besides that they are both cities.  David needed money to maintain and improve the field for the upcoming Maccabi Games.  The Jewish Federation in Kansas City said they could do better than money.  They would introduce David to George Toma, head groundkeeper for the Royals and Chiefs.

As far as groundskeepers go, George Toma is the one, the King of Non-Jewish Field Maintenance, if you will, the “Nitty Gritty Dirt Man”, as he is known, and the title of his book.  Toma has supervised the field preparation for every Super Bowl since 1981.  He is in the Baseball and Football Hall of Fame.  David went to Kansas City to meet Toma, and later that year, George Toma, legend, was living and working at Kibbutz Gezer for 2 weeks.  They shipped in dirt from all over the country, Toma mixing the dirt, sniffing it, adding a little of this, a little of that, getting the right mixture, texture, density, smoothness, a dirt chef, David doing the same with the ice cream they’d share at his home at the end of the day.

from David's extensive scrap book.

from David’s scrap book.

All of this history, of course, pre-dates me, for I am very young, pre-history, if you will, BKOJBE (Before King of Jewish Baseball Era).  I was 2 when the field was built.  I was 17 when Toma renovated the field, somewhere playing on the groomed ball fields of Northeastern Ohio.  It was not until many years later, in 2007, that I played my first game at Gezer.  It was the summer of the IBL, the Israel Baseball League, the first and only season of the first and still only pro baseball league in the Middle East.  I was playing 3rd base for the Tel Aviv lightning.  We played about 20 games at Gezer.  There were good hops, and bad hops, hard spots, and soft spots, fans, and no fans.  There was a light pole in play in right field and a warning track that cut through the middle of the outfield.  We complained about the field.  Since, I have been to Gezer almost every summer, for camps, to coach, to play.  I was there Thursday to interview David and eat Leich Cream, and I will be going back there Tuesday of next week for our “Succot Baseball Clinics”.  After 30 years, Hombo Field at Kibbutz Gezer is still 1 of just 3 fields we have in the country.

The field at Kibbutz Gezer.  Behind the left field fence are remains of King Solomon's Temple.

The field at Kibbutz Gezer. Behind the left field fence are remains of King Solomon’s temple.

Last week, after 40 years of using his wooden bucket to make his ice cream, after 40 years of doing the old fashioned way, land lines and tractors, one scoop at a time, having people come into his home to try the ice cream, David bought a powerful home machine, an industrial strength monster of modern ice cream making technology.  It will make his life easier, and his ice cream better.

David's new machine

David’s new machine

And David is writing down recipes for the first time.  That’s right, Ladies and Geetles, The King of Jewish Ice Cream is goin’ commercial, selling out!  He says it will only take him 20 more years to perfect his new machine and his product.  Then he will stop.

Until then, David, we move onward and forward, together, through the parallel universes of Jewish Baseball, and Jewish Ice Cream.

David Leichman, King of All Jewish Ice Cream, serves his ice cream at his home on Kibbutz Gezer.

David Leichman, King of All Jewish Ice Cream, serves his ice cream at his home on Kibbutz Gezer.

There is still not a corner at Kibbutz Gezer.

ULPAN

30 Aug

Shalom.  Ani Fish Natan Israel.  Ani mi America.  Ani gar bi Yafo bi Rehov Raziel akshav.  Ani oved bi baseball.  Any lomed evrit bi Ulpan Gordon bi Rehov Lassalle bi Tel Aviv bi Israel.  Ani telmid tov meod.  Ani lo tayar.  Ani oleh chadash.

No, faithful follower, lady, geetle, that is not your glass eye playing tricks on you, nor has your computer screen been possessed by Jewish goblins again, it is ME, speaking hebrew.  That’s right, my metamorphosis in nearly complete.  I have changed from an english master, an AMERICAN LITERARY GENIUS, to a pre-school level Hebrew speaker in only 2 days.

I started hebrew class this week and can already say the 9 sentences above that I will be expected to perform in front of the class at our next session.  For Philistines who, unlike me, embarrassingly, DO NOT speak the ancient mystical tongue of the Sun God Ra, it says, “Hi.  My name is Fish Natan Israel (my name here).  I am from America. I live in Jaffa on Raziel street now.  I work in baseball.  I learn hebrew at Ulpan Gordon on Lassalle street in Tel Aviv in Israel.  I am a very good student.  I am not a tourist.  I am a new immigrant.”

the tower of Babel

ulpan

There are 25 of us in class.  We represent 15 countries; America, England, France, England, Brasil, the Ukraine, kazakhstan, Russia, South Africa, Italy, and countries I cannot name here because the student’s whereabouts are unknown.  It’s like the tower of babel, but under florescent light.  Not sure why, but I thought ulpan was going to be like an opium den, beautiful people laying around on couches and rugs, legs draped over one another, smoking cigarettes and sipping coffee, casually learning Hebrew, maybe watching movies in Hebrew, picking up a new word or a phrase here or there.  But alas, in two days, our lovely mora has not spoken a word of English.  There is no common language between us anyways, so she just speaks hebrew.  There are no questions. If I lose focus for even a minute, I am lost.  Class is from 8am-1pm, Sunday through Thursday.  So we will be together 5 days a week, 5 hours a day, for the next 5 months.  Each day we will be expected to learn at least 25 new words after which we will be released to the unforgiving streets of Tel Aviv to read signs and speak in full sentences all on our own.

Of the 25 students in class, I learned, I am the only one who has a job, not to mention a full-time job, not to mention a full-time job that is also A DIRECT MISSION FROM THE DIVINE SPIRIT, and, I believe, though it’s not yet confirmed, who lives in an art cave and maintains a blog of such magnificence as to blind ALL of its readers.

This is my destiny.  And somewhere far, far away, Janet Jackson plays a saxophone solo in my honor.  I am almost sure of it.

THE CUBANS

26 Aug

I got this e-mail a few weeks ago…

Hey guys,
So I went to see the cubans yesterday, and I got to say I was amazed. 
There were about 30 people there, some had shoes but most played bare foot, they had a bat, about 5-6 gloves, and one ball. 
They used rocks as bases, and each time the ball got hit out of the fences the game had to stop till they find the ball, oh and also when they hit the ball out of the ball park ( A soccer field!). These guys can play baseball that’s for sure!
We got to get these guys some equipment, the most important thing is catchers equipment and batting helmets, so they can start playing seriously and not lob the ball in.. they said they had some real good pitchers but until they get equipment they can’t really practice. 
Today I am going to get these guys a couple of gloves, bats, balls and bases from what Peter sent out to me and from my kids team , but it certainly is not enough.  
See what you can do about the catchers equipment, helmets, and more balls can also be great, they also need a lefty glove.
It would be a shame to miss these guys, they are really good and really wan’t to take part in the league. 
—–
What is this I am seeing?  Bare foot?  Rocks for bases? One ball?  Sharing gloves? Cubans?
There is only one man qualified to handle this, that’s right, Ladies and Geetles, it is I, the King of All Jewish Baseball.  So I packed my things, that is to say, 6 life-sized gold statues of myself, and ascended on my Hertz Rental Chariot of Fire deep into the desert, to Be’er Sheva, where the Cubans play, to see for myself these bare footed men.
Be’er Sheva is in the south of Israel, about an hour from Tel Aviv.  Half-way there, the landscape changes from Earthly to Martian, small trees become no trees, many roads become one road.  It is not a place you would expect to find baseball, or Cubans.  But, alas, like the One Eyed Horse Lion, it exists, and it is beautiful.

Mars

Mars

Despite your mind being much weaker than mine, you may be asking yourself the same thing as me.  What are a bunch of Cubans doing playing baseball in the middle of the desert in Israel?  The answer… they had no choice.

The Cubans have been relocated to Be’ersheva by the Jewish Agency, an organization that specializes in moving Jews to Israel, me included.  The Jewish Agency owns housing complex in Be’er Sheva where the Cuban players live.

I had been in touch with Marcos, the only one in the group who speaks English.

I met Marco in the parking lot of the Supermarket in Be’er Sheva.  Players started arriving.  All had shoes, so far.  We took ground balls in the parking lot for a half-hour, then got in cars to go to the field.  We threw down bases on the soccer field, actual bases, sort of, orange rubber bases, better than rocks at least.  We did what can be done anywhere, easily, we made a baseball field, something from nothing, structure in all that open space, and we played baseball.

The e-mail was not all accurate, and not all inaccurate.  Most of the guys had shoes, though some did not.  I had brought 3 baseballs, so we had more than 1.  We shared gloves.  There was a version of catchers equipment though no one used it.  There were no walks.  There were strikeouts.  The pitcher threw from varying distances.  Like I had been warned, when a ball was hit foul over the fence, the game stopped, and one guy, the designated retriever, who was pissed off but still proud of his job, went to find it, and the game resumed.  We played 3 innings before I had to go.  I said I would return with more baseballs and more bats and more gloves.

They were not very good.  But who cared?  They did not.  They– nay, we were just playing ball, In Havanna, or Be’er Sheva, or Mars, or wherever we were.

My reply to the e-mail…

Awesome.  I want to go.

The Cubans, and me.

The Cubans, and me.

—–

http://www.ctvnews.ca/sports/king-of-jewish-baseball-aims-to-take-baseball-to-the-big-leagues-in-israel-1.1426121

 
 

THE RAZE

9 Aug

Hello, faithful reader, Lady, or Geetle.  As promised, I, in the name of duty and virtue, kindly welcome you to 11 Raziel St., or as they would say here in the land of Israel, Raziel 11– storefront, gallery, office, studio, International Head Quarters of the Israel Association of Baseball… my home.

11 Raziel St., Jaffa, Israel

11 Raziel St., Jaffa, Israel

But before the tour begins, let us, as is our habit, review 3 new things I’ve learned about Israel, bringing the grand total of things I know to 9.

1) Israelis stare.

In Israel, things that may be considered rude in America, or anywhere, for that, things like cutting in line, or staring, are normal.  It may be the crown and cape, or the jewels, but people here act like they’ve never seen a superhero magician baseball genius before.  According Shlomo Lipetz, GREAT BLACK BASEBALL WITCH OF TEL AVIV AND NEW YORK CITY, my cultural guide on this adventure, they mean no harm.  Despite locking eyes on anyone they do not know from birth, apparently with a burning hatred, they are not thinking anything in particular or judging, they’re just looking.

2) Things are closed at weird times.

Banks open at 8, close at 11, reopen at 2, close again at 6.  Sunday is a work day.  Tuesday and Friday are half-days at school.  For example, today is the holiest of holies, Shabbat, so everything nation-wide will close at sundown, except some will close much earlier, and some will not close at all and will instead stay open all night.

3) Everything has multiple spellings.

Signs here are in three languages; Hebrew, Arabic, and English, unless, of course, they’re not.  Partly because there are 3 national languages, and because hebrew is being spoken again for the first time in 3,000 years, nothing really has an official spelling.  As long as it’s close, it’s good enough.  My full name, in the western world, is Nathan Israel Bloomberg Fish.  Here, on some documents my name is Nate Fish, on others it’s Fish Natan, or Fish Israel, Israel Natan, or Natan Israel.  I, technically, do not know my own name.  I live at Raziel 11.  But on my checkbook it’s spelled, “11 Razieli”.  Like a lot of places, there is a certain fluidity to language, and reality, here.

Which brings us to 11 Raziel, the Razor, the Razor’s Edge, the Raze, Razor Studios, 11 Razieli, The Raz, The Little Razcle, Razor Ramon’s house, the Razzle.  Along with attempting to FORCE EVERY ISRAELI TO LOVE BASEBALL, I have adopted an abandoned storefront in Jaffa, one of Israel’s only mixed Arab and Jewish neighborhoods, and am attempting, while living here, to make it livable.  When it’s complete, it will be a shiny palace sitting atop a mountain of the sculls of the defeated.  For now, it’s a hot, dirty, cavern.  Let me, King of All Jewish Baseball, take you on a tour, using only the divine powers handed down to me through a long generational line of Jewish Baseball Wizards, and digital photography, of course, Ladies and Geetles, my palace, 11 Raziel…

the only working light in the apartment.

the only working light in the apartment.

paint, light bulbs, a fan, and my extensive collection of patio furniture.

paint, light bulbs, a fan, and my extensive collection of patio furniture.

my ladder and cleaning supplies.

my ladder and cleaning supplies.

the kitchen.

the kitchen… and half of the bathroom

upstairs.  where i sleep.  it is very nice.

upstairs. where i sleep. it is very nice.

the King of Jewish Baseball, in his home, hard at work.

the King of Jewish Baseball, in his home, hard at work.

Follow your dreams.

THE MACCABIAH

3 Aug

And so, The Maccabiah, The Maccabi Games, The Big Mac, The Jewish Olympics, the 3rd largest international sporting event behind the non-Jewish Olympics and the Pan-Am Games, THE GREAT CELEBRATION OF JEWISH SPORTSMANSHIP AND PAGEANTRY TO BE CELEBRATED IN ISRAEL ON THE 3RD MOON OF JULY EVERY 4TH YEAR– whatever you want to call it, is over.  That’s right, Ladies and Goose Bumps, it’s really over.  We did what we said we’d do, we, Team Jew.S.A., won gold, and are, for now, the Supreme Rulers of Jewish Baseball.  And as proof, we were awarded the Tiny Golden Engraving of Ultimate Beauty and Greatness.

our reward

our reward

But before we end, let me take you back, back to the beginning, OPENING CEREMONIES, where no civilian hath ever been before, in the tunnel with Team USA just moments before we proudly marched into the stadium.

The Maccabi Games are, after all, where the best mediocre Jewish athletes from around the world to come together to compete and compare the strength of their particular brand of Jewish Magic.  Whether it’s judo, futsol, underwater cup stacking, or coloring, it is, no doubt, a marvelous utopia of Jewish Excellence and Togetherness!  Children arrive, fresh faced, after months of training, eager to compete. This is  their chance!  The Maccabi Games.  The Olympics, kind of, it feels like the Olympics, at least, sometimes.  A once in a lifetime chance to be treated like a World Class Athlete.

But I will have you know, faithful reader, in reality, more than the perfect, sporty Jewish world of your imagining, the Games resemble a civil-war ravaged refugee camp, Jew fighting Jew, warring militias battling for control of the schedule, the laundry, the busses, the flow, or lack of, information.  At one point, I stopped speaking, stopped answering questions, PTSD, the thousand question stare.  I did not have the answers anyways.  Are there towels?  Why have we been sleeping on the side of the road waiting for a bus for 2 hours?

Each day, the guards woke us up at 5:30am, fed us fake muffins, and put us on busses to go battle in the heat of the day, hundreds at a time, to practice, Masada, more muffins, sleep when you can, but don’t let them see you, they yell.  We’d return at midnight, 1am, 2:30 am, together, if we were lucky, count the men.  Did everyone make it?  Before bed, on a good night, we’d split an extra tuna sandwich 16-ways Holtzy smuggled in his underwear off the bus.  3 hours later, awake again, a game, a movie about Israeli Military Technology, a surprise coaches meeting, another orientation, wait, change everything, the projector isn’t working, we’re going to Egypt, no busses for 45 minutes, get the team together, we need a trainer! –  Leo fell down the well.  Cohen lost his credentials.  The baseballs are gone.  What time are closing ceremonies over?  Laundry will be ready at 3am, team meeting at 3:30 to review what color socks we’re wearing tomorrow.  Where’s Biller?  Oh yeah, Biller is in surgery.   Volleyball is stuck in Tel Aviv.  Where the hell is Clayton?

A team that sleeps together...  Wake up! They're coming.

A team that sleeps together… Wake up! They’re coming.

But, naturally, we, the GREATEST ALL JEWISH 18-AND-UNDER BASEBALL TEAM OF ALL TIME, overcame.  For if the Maccabi Games teach young athletes anything, it is how to overcome adversity, and how to control the mind with confusion, of course.  And, in the end, like all situations of a particular intensity, it brought us closer together.  We lived together.  Slept together, on one another at times.  We won.  We lost.  We bounced back.  We loved each other, hated each other, however briefly, and now, we are one, forever, united, one team, under god, or Harold, or whoever is in charge that day, indivisible– nay, invincible, with gold!

Number 1...

Team Jew.S.A. Number 1…

—-

I officially began my job.  Everyone left for airport to fly home, and I took a taxi to my new apartment in Jaffa which, as you should by now know, I will tell you all about, when the time is right.  My new life as an israeli, as National Director of the IAB, with an inbox to prove it, and, of course, dutifully, continually, eternally, for there is no other, as King of All Jewish Baseball….

http://www.baseball.org.il/news/front-page-news/276-introducing-nate-fish.html

THE KING OF JEWISH SOFTBALL

29 Jul

I, King of All Jewish Baseball, leader and ruler of THE GREAT KINGDOM OF JEWISH BASEBALL, to be completely honest in my divine, genius communications, shamefully must tell you, there is… another man– nay, not another King of Jewish Baseball, for, clearly, as just covered, there is one and I am him, but there is a man so large, so powerful, he warrants mention here, King and Ruler of his own Kingdom, that is to say, the Kingdom of Jewish Softball, Ladies and Geetle Juices, I, here and now, proudly dub thee, David Blackburn, King of All Jewish Softball.

I met Dave in 2005.  We were teammates on the Open Mens Fastpitch Softball Team aka THE GREATEST ALL JEWISH SOFTBALL TEAM OF ALL TIME OF THE GREAT AND WELL-KNOWN 2005 MACCABI GAMES – a perfect team, with a perfect record, 12 wins, 0 losses.  At the conclusion of the tournament we were, naturally, awarded the Little Golden Medal of Ultimate Bravery and Intelligence, and were the sovereign Holders, for 4 years at least, of the Snow Globe of Jewish Softball.

The 2005 Gold Medal Team.  That's me with the afro holding the flag.  Dave is the big man to my right.

The 2005 Gold Medal Team USA. That’s me with the afro holding the flag (#9). Dave is the giant to my left (#7).

Dave was our #1 pitcher, the only #1 pitcher the USA had ever had in the Maccabi Games.  Dave had pitched for the team since their first Games in 1985.  I was just a young warrior looking for his place in the World of Jewish Baseball, or Softball, in this case, and he was a legend.  He was competing in his 5th Maccabi Games.  And he had the calves of an adolescent Rhino.  He had already won 2 gold medals.  There is, you must know, a rule in the Maccabi Game that says athletes can only compete 3 times.  But Dave got an exemption because, well, it’s hard to find good Jewish Softball pitchers, and his calves, and, frankly, because he is, after all, the King of All Jewish Softball.

In his life, Dave has thrown 70 no hitters, 4 of them in the Maccabi Games.  One of his no-hitter balls is in the Maccabiah Hall of Fame.  He is the only non-Israeli in the Israel Softball Hall of Fame.  He is in the Southern California Jewish Sports Hall of Fame.  And last summer he was inducted into the International Softball Congress Hall of Fame, softballs equivalent to Cooperstown.  All together, Dave has 4 gold medals, 1 silver, and 1 bronze.  This year, for the first time, Dave did not medal.  He lost to 3 superior Israeli Para-Olympic athletes in  Wheelchair Table Tennis.

Dave playing table tennis.

Dave playing table tennis.

3 years ago, Dave was in a car accident on the way to a tournament in Prescott, Arizona.  Some of the guys from our 2005 team entered a Maccabi team into– no, shockingly, not an all-Jewish competition, but the the 40-and-over National Tournament with some of the top fastpitch softball teams in the USA.   On the way, the car Dave was in, along with 2 of our teammates, was in a head-on collision.  No one was killed.  But Dave wound up in a coma for 54 days and has since lost the lower half of his famous, gigantic right leg, and his ability to walk.

The team decided to continue on in Prescott despite not knowing if Dave would live.  At night, they went the hospital.  During the day, they played softball, and that year, in Arizona, with their Giant Jewish Friend, not to mention, best pitcher, in the hospital, using only the power of Love, and Black Jewish Softball Magic, of course, the 40+ Maccabi USA Softball Team won a National Championship.

This is the 1st time I’ve seen Dave since the accident.  He is here to compete in Table Tennis, and he was announced as a flag bearer for the United States delegation at opening ceremonies.  It is Dave’s 7th Maccabi Games, the most any athlete has competed in.

In softball, the USA plays their final games of the tournament tonight.  They play Mexico at 7, if they win, they play for gold at 9.

Dave will be there.

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Big Dave Blackburn, for always and forever, under the sun, the King of All Jewish Softball

————-

Dave Is working on a film project, The King and Me.

Visit, http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-king-and-me, to see more…

TEAM JEW.S.A.

19 Jul

Ladies and Geetles, the Maccabi Games aka THE GREAT CELEBRATION OF JEWISH SPORTSMANSHIP AND PAGEANTRY TO BE OBSERVED IN ISRAEL ON THE 3RD MOON OF JULY EVERY 4TH YEAR, is upon us.  And so it is time that I, King of ALL Jewish Baseball, proudly and dutifully present to you, using only my shepherds rod, and a mediocre wi-fi connection, of course… TEAM JEW.S.A., the Greatest All Jewish 18-and-under Baseball Team of All Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime…

Sam McKinnon, Catcher

IMG_0304

Zach Feldman, Outfield/Left Handed Pitcher

Jacob Biller, 2nd Base Brad Margolin, Catcher

Jacob Biller, 2nd Base. Brad Margolin, Catcher

Jason Schoen, 1st Base/Left Handed Pitcher

Jason Schoen, 1st Base/Left Handed Pitcher

Ian McKinnon, Outfield. David Berger, Outfield

Ian McKinnon, Outfield. David Berger, Outfield

Justin Diamond, 3rd base/Right Handed Pitcher

Justin Diamond, 3rd base/Right Handed Pitcher

Dean Kremer, Outfield/Right Handed Pitcher

Dean Kremer, Outfield/Right Handed Pitcher

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Tyler Hart, Infield

Clayton Gelfand, Short Stop

Clayton Gelfand, Short Stop

Ben Feinman, Right Handed Pitcher. Matt Rothstein, Right Handed Pitcher

Ben Feinman, Right Handed Pitcher. Matt Rothstein, Right Handed Pitcher

Josh Cohen, Infield/Right Handed Pitcher

Josh Cohen, Infield/Right Handed Pitcher

Robert Scherl, 1st base/DH.  And Brad Margolin, Catcher, again.

Robert Scherl, 1st base/DH. And Brad Margolin, Catcher, again.

Leo Kaplan, Utility/Alive

Leo Kaplan, Utility/Alive

Eric Holtz/Coach.  Nate Fish, Coach/The King of All Jewish Baseball

Eric Holtz/Coach. Nate Fish, Coach/The King of All Jewish Baseball

We had our 1st game yesterday against Canada, and our 2nd game today against Israel.  We won 12-0, and 15-1, respectively.  Big Ben Feinman threw the 1st no hitter in the history of the Maccabi Games in a shortened 5-inning game against Canada.  We have an off day tomorrow, for it is Shabbat, after all.  Then Team JEW.S.A., currently the Greatest Jewish Baseball Show on Earth, resumes play.  Canada Monday.  Israel again Tuesday.  Semi-finals Thursday.  And the finals, the gold medal game, Friday.

So join us into the unknown, forward through time and space, on a quest for GOLD, love, and our rightful place in the Book of Life, and Jewish Baseball History…

Ladies and Geetles, TEAM JEW.S.A!

Team JEW.S.A.

All Maccabi Baseball games broadcast live at… http://cnc.fibs.it/cnc/ceb/2013/maccabiah/live/xlive.htm