Baseball

Since my two favorite teams are the Boston Red Sox and Whoever is Playing the Yankees, I must say: Go Phillies!

Let’s Go, Red Sox!

Yours truly sounding the battle-cry for the 2009 baseball playoffs, Israeli-style. I had just bought my first shofar in Jerusalem.

Baseball from Israel

RISHON LEZION, Israel — On my first trip to Israel three years ago, I was leaving the Holocaust Memorial when a passerby in the parking lot yelled out, “Go Yankees!”

I was wearing my Red Sox hat at the time. It seems that the Greatest Rivalry in All of Sports follows you anywhere, even ten thousand miles away from the East Coast and outside the somber remembrance of the greatest massacre in human history.

[Conversely, the opposite happened when I was traveling in Egypt. Near the Sphinx, I saw a guy wearing a Yankees hat, and I yelled, "Go Red Sox!" He gave me a puzzled look. "Not American?" I asked. "Uh, no," he replied in a German accent. "Never mind," I replied. Evidently, he was one of those foreigners who wears a Yankees hat only because the team is supposedly synonymous with the United States. Talk about good branding.]

The baseball playoffs are occuring this month, and the Red Sox and Yankees have clinched the AL Wild Card and AL East respectively. But the games will be difficult to watch — night ones start between 1 a.m. and 4 a.m. here. Still, I will be excited to see the Red Sox beat the Angels (as they always do in the playoffs) and then face the Evil Empire. But I will need a lot of קפה.

Live Sports

Rick Reilly posts the top ten sporting events that people should see in person. I’ve seen the Boston Red Sox play at Fenway Park (though not against the New York Yankees) during the nine years that I lived in Boston, and I went to Wimbledon when I lived in London in 2001. But I have yet to see the rest.

Still, I am skeptical of some of his choices. Golf, at least to me, is boring enough on television. Is it any better live? And how can Reilly not include the World Cup? International soccer is essentially warfare by other means.

Curt Schilling

While announcing his retirement, the Red Sox pitching ace said he has “zero regrets.” Nor should he. In the nine years that I lived in Boston, he was my favorite player. I am sure that many current and former Bostonians would agree. Hopefully, Schilling will continue to blog.

Letter from Israel: Stories from the Desert II

Thirteenth in an ongoing series

RISHON LEZION, Israel — Here are some more anecdotes that I thought people might find interesting.

—
The Sporting Life

In the United States, people generally support sports teams that are closest geographically. Bostonians root for the Red Sox, and people near St. Louis like the Cardinals. In Israel, however, people choose their favorite teams based on different criteria.

Since Israel is roughly the size of New Jersey, everyone is close to every potential team that he might like. Moreover, Israeli society is fractured along numerous political, ethnic, and religious lines — and this is where team loyalties come into play.

Secular left-wingers support Hapoel Tel Aviv in soccer and basketball. The name for its community of fans is the Red Devils because the fan base has historically consisted of blue-collar socialists and communists. (The name “HaPoel” means “The worker” in Hebrew.) Conservative Israelis hate the team, especially because one of its soccer players is an Arab. (He also plays on Israel’s national team, leaving right-wing Israelis confused as to whether they should cheer when he scores a goal against another country’s team.)

Conservative Israelis (and those who also want to support the winners) like Maccabi Tel Aviv. This is Israel’s most famous team because, until the last two years, they had been one of the top basketball and soccer teams in Israel and Europe for decades. They are the equivalent of the New York Yankees of Israel. The name “Maccabi” refers to the band of warriors who defeated the invading ancient Greeks in the Chanukah story. Maccabi Tel Aviv and HaPoel Tel Aviv have a rivalry that is just as intense as the Red Sox and Yankees.

Beitar Jerusalem, the new, number-one soccer team in Israel, was recently purchased by Arcadi Gaydamak, a Russian billionare who reportedly emigrated to Israel to avoid an French indictment on weapons trafficking charges in Angola. Gaydamak ran to become mayor of Jerusalem in the recent election, but his candidacy was a joke because he cannot speak a word of Hebrew. Still, he is seen as a populist hero because he spent a lot of money relocating northern residents to safety when Hizbollah rockets were raining down on them from Lebanon in 2006. At the time, the Israeli government was doing nothing, so the team is very popular among poor, working-class Israelis and the so-called “arsim” who I described in my prior letter. Beitar fans are the ones most like to act like British hooligans and assault fans of other teams.

There are many other teams in Israel — like those from smaller towns whose fans are primarily local people — but these are the three that are most popular nationwide.

On a related note, all Israeli sports teams play in European leagues like the European version of the NBA. Israel used to play in the Asian league (which includes the Middle East) in soccer, but Israel left the confederation in 1974 because many other countries refused to play against the team as a result of anti-Israel sentiment. Sports, it seems, can involve politics as well.

—
A Jerusalem Minute

I lived at a Hebrew-language school in Jerusalem for four months after first moving to Israel. Some friends and I were sitting at our living-room table, chatting, doing homework, and playing games like chess and backgammon. It was a typical late afternoon since it was still too chilly in February to spend much time outside.

And then — BOOM!

We froze. There was a loud noise somewhere in the neighborhood close to the school, but we could not tell what it was. No one talked. No one made a noise. “I hope that was a car backfiring,” I said with a nervous laugh. Everyone was still silent. No one moved. Each second lasted forever.

“Let’s hear if there’s a siren,” someone said. We had heard that whenever there is a terrorist incident, emergency crews respond almost instantly. So we waited. One second — nothing. Two seconds — nothing. Three seconds — nothing. Four seconds — nothing. Five seconds — nothing.

After about half a minute, each of us returned to what we were doing as if nothing had happened. No one spoke of it again. There has not been a suicide bombing in Jerusalem since 2002, but everyone worries subconciously whether there will be another.

The noise of car backfirings always startles Israelis for a second — even in the relatively tame, southern, Tel Aviv suburb of Rishon Lezion, where I live now. Israelis tend to drive old cars for a long time because new ones are very expensive. When Israelis purchase a new car from a dealer, they pay an 88-percent tax in addition to the sticker price. (I do not know why the government has such an absurd policy.) Since most cars on the road are in bad shape, I hear backfirings at least twice a day. When it is a loud one, I cannot help but think of a bomb.

Oh, and if Americans think gas prices are high there: In Israel, people pay the equivalent of $7 a gallon. It is no wonder that so many people here — even businessmen in their thirties — do not own cars.

–
Tourette’s in Arabic

I was sitting at home in Rishon Lezion one morning, watching TV and eating breakfast. (The day before, I had lost my first full-time job as an English-language marketing writer. Long story.) Then, I heard someone yelling in strange Hebrew. I looked out my window, and a fortysomething guy was walking down my street yelling strange words at the top of his lungs. I ignored it. After all, strange things can happen here.

Then, an hour later, it happened again. And again another hour later. I was so angry that I was about to yell at him to be quiet from my fourth-story window. (People can be, well, colorful here.) Then, I realized that he might have Tourette’s Syndrome. After all, he was yelling in such a strange way. So I felt bad and did nothing. Every day, he did the same thing once an hour for a few hours.

A few weeks later, I told a friend who lives nearby what had been happening. She laughed and said that he did not have Tourette’s. The man was an Arab — hence his strange Hebrew to me — and he was yelling the names of various appliances that he wants. His job, my friend said, is to walk down streets and yell to see if anyone wants to come down and sell him anything that they do not need. Then his business would resell the used item later.

Although his sales tactic is annoying, I do have to give him points for originality. But I would never sell him anything — I could never beat an Israeli Arab at haggling.

—
A Bad Way to Start the Day

I was riding a Jerusalem bus to work one afternoon, and at the second-last stop to mine, three young men tried to get on the bus. It is hard to distinguish Jews from Arabs in this city, but they looked like they may have been Arabs.

The men were in their twenties, they were carrying large bags, and at least one was acting suspiciously. This man wore large sunglasses that blocked his eyes entirely, and as he approached the bus, he kept looking straight down. He never looked up. It seemed weird.

Since the second intifada’s suicide bombings of the early 2000s, bus drivers have been trained to spot suspicious behavior. They will sometimes not let people on the bus if they do not present identification when asked, and they can refuse to allow people to board whenever they see fit. (Of course, this can lead to discrimination against innocent Arabs as well.) Well, this driver
seemed to see fit.

After asking the first man a question that I could not understand, the driver and the men had a conversation. (I wish I had known more Hebrew.) At first I thought I was being paranoid, but then every passenger in the front of the bus rose and moved to the back of the bus once the driver started asking questions. Out of pure instinct, I joined them.

The driver did not let them through the protective turnstile (with a bomb detector) in the doorway. He closed the doors and drove on. Of course, I still do not know what happened. I never will. Perhaps they were asking for directions. Perhaps they did not know which bus to take. Perhaps they were Israeli Arabs who had forgotten their IDs at home. Perhaps they were not even Arabs.

But the other Israelis on the bus had lived in Jerusalem for much longer than I had. If they move to the back of the bus, then so will I. Perhaps I was being paranoid. Perhaps I was being discriminatory against an ethnic group. But I did not feel guilty. In the Middle East, lofty ideals usually yield to blunt realism.

Prior letter: Stories from the Desert I

The World Series

BELLEVILLE, Illinois — Although the Tampa Bay Rays defeated my beloved Boston Red Sox, I will be rooting for them in the World Series, which begins tonight. (Since I live in Israel now, it has been a pleasure to watch baseball in prime-time while I’m on vacation here.) The Rays played a superb ALCS series, they are a classy team, and I admire their coach, who seems to be quite the Renaissance Man.

When I decide which baseball team to support, here is my hierarchy:

• Boston Red Sox (of course)
• New York Mets (my little brother’s favorite team and the other mortal enemy of the Team Who Must Not Be Named)
• St. Louis Cardinals (I grew up here)
• Any team playing against a non-Red Sox team in the AL East
• The American League team (as long as it is not You Know Who)
• The National League team
• The Evil Empire

I have yet to see a game where my list does not work. How do you decide who to support?

Wait Until Next Year

BELLEVILLE, Illinois — At this time last year, I watched the Boston Red Sox win the 2007 World Series while I was not in Massachusetts because I was visiting family. Now, last night, I watched the team lose the 2008 ALCS while on a visit from Israel to see my family here again.

What a difference a year in Red Sox Nation makes.

Explaining Baseball

RISHON LEZION, Israel — I do not remember ever learning the rules of baseball. I don’t think any American child ever does. Perhaps we merely absorbed the sport through cultural osmosis and watching it on television. So imagine trying to explain a sport that is fairly complex — at least as compared to soccer — to someone who knows nothing about it.

As I have been watching the baseball playoffs — Go Red Sox! — on television at a local pub here, a few Israelis usually try to watch it as well. (After roughly three minutes, they always say “it’s boring” and then walk away.) Last night, I found myself explaining the strike zone, a walk, the fact that a foul ball is not a third strike, the distance between bases in meters rather than feet, how baseball is more of a subtle art than a sport, and how a batter with a .500 batting average would be hailed as a superstar even though he fails half of the time. I just started sputtering random facts and rules.

I was reminded of the underrated movie “Blast from the Past” (the trailer is above) in which an early 1960s family raises their son in an underground fallout shelter after wrongly thinking that the United States was about to be nuked. The boy (Brendan Fraser) grows up and then goes out into Los Angeles in 1999 without ever having been above ground before. It’s much more witty and endearing than one might think.

There is an amusing scene in which the boy’s father starts to teach him the rules of baseball while they are underground. In the words of Roger Ebert’s review of the film, “try it sometime.” Well, I have tried it — and you don’t even know where to begin.

To Play or Not to Play

Here is an interesting article on what happens when baseball and religion conflict.

I Love October

Here is an interesting backgrounder on the baseball playoffs. (Go Red Sox!)

Stick a Fork in the Yankees

They are done.

The American League playoffs will be Los Angeles vs. Boston (wild card) and Tampa Bay vs. Chicago or Minnesota. Of course, the Red Sox will take it all, especially after Josh Beckett returns to his old self.

Football Season Starts

RISHON LEZION, Israel — Since I’m new here, I don’t know which Israeli Premier League football (soccer) team to support. Any suggestions? I’ll consider anyone except Beitar Jerusalem, whom I hate almost as much as the New York Yankees. Is there a team that is comparable to the Boston Red Sox?

Update: After talking to an Israeli friend, I’ve learned the following: Maccabi Tel Aviv is like the New York Yankees; Beitar Jerusalem is full of arsim, right-wingers, and hooligans; and Hapoel Tel Aviv is the team for leftists and socialists. I just can’t win.

The Politics of Football

TEL AVIV — If you think the rivalry between the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees is intense, you should watch international football (soccer) sometime. This sport can be war by other means.

I’ve started watching my first European 2008 Football Championship here in Israel, but I’m not sure who I will support. My two favorite national teams, Israel and England, did not make it through the preliminary competition (thank you, Russia), so I’ve been asking Israelis who they support. Their answers have been intriguing.

Most Israelis support the Netherlands because that country helped to save Jews during the Holocaust, and it is a strong supporter of Israel today. Everyone hates France because the French people are seen as increasingly anti-Semitic and anti-Israel. For obvious reasons, the only Israelis who will support Germany are those whose families originally come from there. People generally support the countries from where their families come — a friend of mine is completely supporting Poland, and I empathize because my mother’s family is originally from there. However, some Israelis claim to prefer certain teams specifically because of their particular success and style while they play the game.

Last night, while at a bar, everyone supported the Czech Republic against Switzerland. I have no idea why. But in the second game, everyone supported Portugal against Turkey. People insisted that it was because Portugal is a class-A team that’s on the same level as France and Italy, but I cannot help but wonder if it was also because Turkey is a Muslim country. I asked a bartender if Turkey likes Israel (after all, their governments are extremely friendly), and she simply said, “Not really.” When the Czech Republic won, the whole bar erupted into cheers.

Tonight, everyone is looking forward to Germany vs. Poland – talk about World War II nostalgia (or, perhaps, bitter memories). Only one person I know is supporting Germany. It will be interesting to see if anyone else in the crowd does.

Manny Being Manny

RISHON LEZION, Israel — I wish I had seen this live.

Cursing the Yankees

This is awesome. It’s too bad that the jersey was found before Opening Day at the new Yankee Stadium.

Red Sox Season Starts

JERUSALEM — The baseball season will officially begin in ten minutes, when the Boston Red Sox host the Detroit Tigers at Opening Day at Fenway Park. Since the game is not being shown on ESPN or Fox Sports, I can only listen to it through the website of Major League Baseball/WRKO radio in Boston. (Click here or here if you want to listen as well.)

But I’m really looking forward to this weekend, which will have the first Yankees-Red Sox series in Boston. I’ll be watching from a bar here in the Holy City. Go Sox! Yankees suck!

The Super Bowl

JERUSALEM — So I’m sitting in a living room in the Holy City, watching the Super Bowl with three other Americans and one Canadian. Since I lived in Boston for nine years, I’m rooting for the New England Patriots.

It feels weird because I did not watch the NFL playoffs, so I cannot make any predictions based on the Patriots’ postseason performance. I moved away from the United States shortly after watching the Patriots defeat the New York Giants 38-35 in the last regular-season game.

The two teams, of course, are facing each other again tonight. (Or, for me, this morning.) The Patriots are favored by 12.5 points, but I would have given them 14. (Just because I’m that biased.) I’ll be sad not to be able to attend the victory parade.

At least I will have this to keep me going: It is two months and four days until Red Sox Opening Day at Fenway Park. I’ll probably be watching from Mike’s Place.

The United States of Baseball

Joel Garreau once wrote that North America really consists of nine nations. I submit that it may actually be thirty. See here. (Or here.)

The Good Ol’ Red Sox

Brian McGrory misses the old Red Sox days:

We were hapless, though never hopeless. We were the ones that always had something to overcome – a curse, a seemingly in surmountable deficit, a little-brother syndrome.

Dan Kennedy responds:

Truth is, we Bostonians still have plenty to feel inferior about, starting with the fact that the New York Times Company owns the Globe (and, weirdly enough, 17% of the Red Sox). Boston, the one-time hub of the universe, is now more of a branch town for large, out-of-state corporations. The Sox’ victory is less proof of our superiority than it is an exception to our long, slow decline.

Although I have only lived in Boston since 1998, I have experienced the feelings that come with seeing the Red Sox at their best and worst. I have rarely felt as depressed as I did after Game 7 of the ALCS in 2003. I have rarely felt as happy as I did after the following year’s World Series.

Which won was better? It’s hard to say. Red Sox fans, as I personally experienced, are now seen differently throughout the rest of the country. We had been lovable losers, but now we may almost be as hated as the New York Yankees. As Kennedy notes, winning is always better than losing. But we need to be as sportsmanlike in victory as we were in defeat.

World Series Roundup

BELLEVILLE, Illinois — I’m sorry to say this, Rockies and Cardinals fans, but the American League is, in fact, better than the National League. See here. The stereotype used to be that the American League had better batting and the National League had better pitching, but now the American League has both. And I say this as a guy whose favorite National League teams are the St. Louis Cardinals and New York Mets.

Elsewhere: Bob Ryan sings the (much deserved) praises of Jason Varitek and writes that the Red Sox were simply the better team. Dan Shaughnessy also believes that the Red Sox will become “the hardball monsters of the new millennium.” (We should just be sure that we don’t turn into the Yankees!) Hilary Leila Krieger writes that the Red Sox have gone from being the Jews to the Israelis of baseball. Prior: I watch the World Series from the Midwest and predict next year’s starting lineups.

Two in Four Years

Your 2008 Starting Lineup

BELLEVILLE, Illinois — If I might be so bold as to make a prediction, assuming that no trades or changes occur before next baseball season begins:

Red Sox Batting Lineup 

1. Jacoby Ellsbury (CF), 2. Dustin Pedroia (2B), 3. David Ortiz (DH), 4. Manny Ramirez (LF), 5. Mike Lowell (3B), 6. Kevin Youkilis (1B), 7. J.D. Drew (RF), 8. Jason Varitek (C) 9. Alex Cora (SS)

Starting Pitching Rotation

1. Josh Beckett, 2. Curt Schilling, 3. Daisuke Matsuzaka, 4. Clay Buchholz

Notable changes: Coco Crisp will be out of the starting lineup. Tim Wakefield will be moved to the bullpen to give Buchholz a chance to shine. If Buchholz does well and Dice-K does not improve, then their spots in the pitching order may even be swapped. The last batting spot is pretty much open to any remaining infielder — I’m just going with a gut feeling on Cora.

Oh, and while I’m at it: Both Joe Torre and A-Rod are leaving the New York Yankees. If Mariano Rivera, Jorge Posada and Andy Pettitte also depart, then the Evil Empire may finish third in the A.L. East next year. Not that I’d be disappointed.

Red Sox Fan, In Exile

BELLEVILLE, Illinois — You’ve never really become part of Red Sox Nation until you’ve experienced a playoff series in the Diaspora.

That’s what I’ve come to realize while watching the World Series here in my hometown as I deal with a family emergency. (My father is dying of pancreatic cancer.) Although the Red Sox, as usual, have been adding to my stress, the happiness resulting from each of their victories has been offsetting the pain somewhat. Still, the juxtaposition of the two emotions I’ve been feeling is typical for a Red Sox fan (well, at least one with a pre-2004 mentality): Take equal parts happiness and misery, mix violently, and serve hot. Make sure there is enough for 181 servings.

After arriving in St. Louis last week, I watched the first and last game at home. My ten-year-old brother, mother and stepfather had all gone to bed, leaving me to celebrate in the living room alone by jumping and pumping my first as quietly as possible. Although I have raised my little brother to be a Red Sox fan since the day he was born, he did have school the next day. I was tempted to tell him that the Red Sox in the World Series was more important than four days of fifth grade. Does that make me a bad brother? Still, he wears his Red Sox hat with pride. I just hope that he forgives me someday for the pain that results from being a member of the Fenway Faithful. At least it’s the good kind of pain.

I watched the second and third games at three different bars with an old high school friend, Jason, who roots for the New York Yankees merely because they’ve been successful. (Who’s he going to support now?) Everyone from here, of course, should be a fan of the St. Louis Cardinals. (That, of course, includes me — but the baseball strike of 1994 killed baseball for me until I moved to Boston for college and got sucked into Red Sox Nation.) And, as one of my uncles says, Cardinals fans are viewed as cordial and polite. At least in my experience, that wasn’t exactly true.

Jason and I went to Crehan’s Irish Pub, a mix of an Irish pub and a dive bar, after Game 2 ended, and I received a neutral reaction from people there. No one noticed my Red Sox hat at all. Everyone was watching a college football game or listening to a cover band, but I convinced the bartender to put Game 3 on the big-screen television. Unfortunately, we went to two other bars for that game, and I definitely received a reaction from Cardinals fans at the other two.

We first went to Cutter’s. After getting the bartender to put on the game on the big-screen television, a few other guys stood near the bar and started to watch. I joined them. An older guy in his fifties on my left casually looked over in my direction. He did a quick double-take, looked at me and my Red Sox hat, and then stated in a matter-of-fact-but-still-pissed voice, “F— YOU!” Since I had done or said nothing, I was a little shocked. It had been three years since 2004. Then he repeated himself. I laughed nervously and wondered if this was how Yankees fans feel outside of New York.

I walked over to the bar to order a beer, and a band that did covers of classic rock songs started playing. Since the Red Sox had gained a nice lead in Game 3, I went over to make a request: “Would you play either ‘Sweet Caroline’ or ‘Dirty Water’ for a Red Sox fan?” The keyboardist said that they didn’t know the songs, and I believed him – the guy’s facial or nonverbal cues didn’t skip a beat. But when I told the story to a friend of my friend Jason, he replied: “You’re not in Boston anymore.” After the Colorado Rockies had pulled within one run, I was a little pissed. And angry. I was standing near the bar and looking at the television screen while waving my hands to push borderline hits by the Rockies into foul territory and send Red Sox runners home. Yeah, I definitely helped.

A random guy walked up and asked if I was a Red Sox fan. “Of course,” I responded. And I had never been more proud. He just smiled and walked away.

Later, as the Red Sox began to seal their Game 3 victory, Jason and I went to Big Daddy’s, a swankier downtown bar. It was there that I, after living in Boston for more than nine years, became an official member of Red Sox Nation. It was there that I ran into other Red Sox fans in southern Illinois for the first time. We were in exile together. Two military guys, along with one guy’s wife, were wearing Red Sox uniforms and staring at the television. One was from Franklin, Massachusetts, and both were stationed at Scott Air Force base.

As soon as I saw them, I pointed and yelled, “Hey, Red Sox!” They looked over, grinned, and then ran over. We hugged and laughed like we were long-lost brothers who hadn’t seen each other in years. We talked about the World Series, and then the Red Sox won Game 3. We yelled, ”Go Red Sox!” for a few minutes, then we switched over to the inevitable “Yankees suck!” for a few more before buying a round of drinks. I wonder if any Cardinals fans had ever heard that second cheer before.

In retrospect, I was a little embarrassed — perhaps Jim Caple is correct. But it was a lot of fun, and I’m glad that I was able to share a little bit of this World Series with other Red Sox fans. When I return to Boston, I just need to be sure that my little brother can carry on the tradition.

Beckett, Not Wakefield

Terry Francona should have put Josh Beckett in for Game 4 of the ALCS even though he would have had only three days of rest. After all, that’s all he needed to beat the Yankees in 2003. That way, the Red Sox might have won Game 4, and Beckett would have been available to pitch in Game 7. Saving him for the World Series doesn’t meaning anything if you don’t make it there in the first place.

I know this is late, but for the record, I just wanted to state my view. Go Sox!