The growing pains were a small price to pay to be part of bringing high caliber baseball to Israel. This summer I lived a multi-layered dream. I played professional baseball in Israel, I signed autographs for smiling children and excited …
I had daily conversations with World Series winning major leaguers, I read about the games daily in both Hebrew and English newspapers, I spent this summer doing what millions fantasize about doing but only a very select few get the chance to do. I lived a dream this summer and while doing so thousands of baseball fans were entertained. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a perfect summer. Most of the players were housed and fed at Hakfar Hayarok, a youth village where about 1000 students live and go to school. The facilities were modest at best. The first weeks were rough. There was no place to work out, there was no physiotherapy on campus, the food was inappropriate for the players, the laundry situation was a mess, games were postponed due to fields not being ready, there was no ice for the players, my teammate got hit in the head by a line drive that ended his season, paychecks were postponed for a few days and I played for the Petah Tikva Pioneers which means I felt the pain of losing far too often.
Like I said it wasn’t a perfect summer. The players were frustrated. But it did not remain that way. The players and league officials started meeting on a regular basis and changes were made. One by one, things came together and by mid season it was all about playing ball. The frustrations of growing pains were a small price to pay to be part of bringing high caliber baseball to Israel.
I am grateful to have been chosen to be member of a select fraternity that shared this summer breathing life into the dream of bringing professional baseball to Israel.
Judging by the attendance and fan enthusiasm at many of the games there are thousands of grateful fans too and next year there will be more. Wether you hail from or play for Petah Tikva doesn’t matter, this summer we were all pioneers.
Now that I am back stateside I keep thinking back on a glorious summer. I see 6’7″ Dominican Maximo Nelson in the dugout before the game fooling around with a giggling seven year old bat boy with tzitit hanging from his sides. On the far side of the dugout sits ‘Miracle Met’ Art Shamsky looking at his lineup card.
I hear a teammate ask if I am finished stretching and ready to have a catch, I see the sun setting at magical Gezer Field while the fans are cheering their beloved Blue Sox. I hear Australian, Dominican, Israeli, American, Japanese and Canadian accents in the dugout, I feel the excitement and tension of being on the mound in a tight game, I see long home runs, diving catches, head first slides and nasty curve balls.
I hear American Israelis explaining to native Israelis the rules and joys of baseball, I see fans davening Mincha (afternoon prayer) by the concession stand, I hear the guys sitting around at night playing cards and talking baseball.
I miss the sound of ‘Hatikvah’ being played everyday while the Israeli flags waved on the outfield fences. Maybe it was a perfect summer.