Backpack and Hope

Shalom and Happy Jew Year!  I am currently on a train from Haifa going south to Herzeliya to spend Rosh Hashanah with Roni and her family.  So many hilarious, stressful, unique, fulfilling, and interesting experiences have happened in the first two weeks in Israel. 

First things first, I was called by my agent on Sunday night at 6:30 and told to get on the first train available north.  A 2nd division team in Tivon (10 mins from Haifa) had suffered some injuries and was looking for players.  Within an hour I was on a northbound train with a backpack and hope. I was greeted at the train station by one of the team managers and driven furiously to Tivon.  As we arrived, a few players were standing outside of their apartment and I heard one of them speak perfect English.  I get excited when I hear an American speak because I know I will actually be able to communicate properly.  It’s very hit or miss when it comes to Israeli’s and their English.  They mostly know the basics but it’s hard to have a conversation of substance with many locals.  I yelled out “You guys win tonight” I heard an excited response “Are you American?” Ahhh… silly Americans excited to meet each other in a foreign land.   It turns out that I would be staying on my new friend Matt’s (from Chicago) couch for a few days until they made a decision on whether or not to offer me a contract.

The next two days were a whirlwind as I quickly found out I wouldn’t be practicing with the team but playing in a pre-season tournament.  So, after two weeks in Israel, here I was, on the court, in uniform, with a professional team.  I’m not sure if I would describe my energy as nervous or anxious, but I was definitely trying to relax before the game.   I met with the assistant coach before the game and we went over the plays they had learned in the first 3 weeks of practice.  He then escorted me to the locker room and proceeded to get dressed with the team.  I was a bit confused but then heard that we only had 7 healthy players so the assistant coach had to play with us.  Hilarious! The head coach arrived 5 minutes prior to the tip and we shook hands in the initial pregame huddle.  Hilarious! 

My nerves were quickly calmed when I scored a basket in the first minute I entered the game.  I swooped in for an offensive rebound and hit an 8ft soft baby hook to get my professional pre-season career started.  Because I didn’t know any of the plays, I was used sparingly but could feel the coach's sense of comfort with me right from the start.  I ended up with 9pts 4rebs in my debut.

Okay, flash forward a week or so to right now… October 6th.  I am now typing my first post as a professional basketball player! Yep, I did it.  That is me signing a professional contract.  I somehow convinced (or tricked) a professional team to sign me.  On Oct 4th I signed a contract with HAPOEL KIRYAT TIVON, which is in the National Israeli Professional league.  Allow me to give you a quick rundown of the past few days…

First off, while I was writing the earlier post, I was headed back to Herzeliya on the train.  The railway system here, although effective and efficient, gives me the fits and I continue to get lost.  I somewhere missed my stop and ended up in Tel Aviv.  I panicked and threw my computer in my bag and ran around asking someone to help me find the train back north to Herzeliya.  As I caused a bit of a scene asking everyone where to go, a girl tapped me on the shoulder and said: “would you like a ride?” I was a bit shocked and said: “Uhhhh, is this a trick?” I guess I was shocked by a complete stranger asking this goofy manic dude if he needed a ride.  People in American typically stay away from other people in need of help.  It was quite refreshing.  She smiled and said, “I missed the stop too and my boyfriend is picking me up and bringing me back to Herzeliya.”  I accepted the invitation and chattily walked with her to exit the train station. I couldn't get passed the security gate because my train ticket was for Herzeliya which was 2 stops earlier.  I decided to jump over the handicapped gate towards the left side of the hallway.  My foot got caught on the bar thanks to my stellar athleticism and my backpack went flying off my shoulder.  A zipper was open so tons of coins and random objects flew all over the dirty marble floor.  I mention this fall because this fall and backpack drop come up later in the story….

After a pleasant yet slightly uncomfortable ride with my new random friend and her boyfriend, I was “home”.  I actually felt a sense of comfort when I got to the house.  I find it a funny thought that comfort is based on familiarity.  Anyways, I had gotten back just in time to start the Rosh Hashanah (New Year) celebrations.

Rosh Eve (as I coined it) was to be spent at Roni’s grandparent’s house in Herzeliya Pituach, which is the beachfront area of Herzeliya.  BAM! You readers not only get to hear my incredible “had to be there” type stories but I also give you solid geographically knowledge.  I walked into the house first because I was holding bowls of food including about 14 pounds of hummus.  A man was sitting right in from of the doorway.  His bare feet were facing me elevated on a chair and he was staring directly into my eyes.  I said “Hello” and received a snarl and a glare.  Although I was confused I continued into the kitchen to drop off the 17,467 mashed chickpeas.  I was introduced to 15 or so new family members and was quickly grilled on why I was at their family dinner.  I explained the whole basketball dream and how I knew Roni and then was passed to another confused person and had to tell the same story.  Their family was very sweet and welcoming and we sat down for a delicious Rosh Eve feast!  Mmmm… grandma’s famous Chicken Curry… exactly what I imagined an Israeli family would eat on Rosh Hashanah.

It’s actually a very odd and somewhat lonely feeling being at a dinner table with 20 Israeli strangers that are all speaking gibberish… oops, I mean Hebrew.  It feels like you’re in a glass bubble watching a live 3D movie… all I can do it try to interpret voice tones and gestures.  Half the time I just space out completely.  Luckily, that night there was wine.  Every so often someone will realize I have no idea what’s going on and try and let me in on the conversation and say something random like, “Zach, we are talking about kitchen accessories” or “Zach, we are talking about you.” And then they will all giggle and continue speaking loud and fast.  I have been told to listen closely to make sure I don’t hear the word Idiot and Zach in the same sentence.  Idiot is pronounced the same in Hebrew.  Very useful language knowledge I’m learning.  All kidding aside, they welcomed me warmly and we had an awesome night hanging and talking.

The next day we headed to Sderot, Israel to Roni’s sister’s husband’s parent’s house.  Got that connection?  Sderot is unlike any place I’ve ever been to.  Sderot is less than a mile from Gaza and is under constant threat of missile attacks.  I had so many questions for the family but wanted to wait until later in the night to ask them simple questions like, “Why the f*ck would you live here?”  We ate a feast which included fresh lamb ribs, chicken hearts, and turkey liver.  I tried them all.  I won't describe how they taste or the looks on people's faces when I spit each one out into a napkin.  

Once I felt comfortable, I let loose and started asking them about Gaza and the wars and hate and everything I could think of.  The father, who spoke 0% English, decided he wanted to explain the threat to me.  I literally had to ask someone to translate for me as he brought me to the side of the house.  He pointed to the broken window on the side of the house and explained that the hole was from the missile shrapnel.  It was pretty intense to realize we were literally standing in a place that could, at any time, be bombed.  His story continued as he held my hand and dragged me into the house.  He showed me the computer room and asked me to sit in the chair.  Nama, Roni’s sister was translating and told me to look up.  I was a bit disoriented but quickly realized that the shrapnel hole was about 5 inches above my head.  The father had been sitting in the chair when the window was shot.  I gasped and he became teary-eyed.  He held my hand and said, in broken English “I am alive!” It was one of those moments that I will always remember.  The people in the area live through this fear and constant danger every day.  They don’t particularly show it, but you can sense it. 

I asked his youngest son “Why do you still live here.” He smiled and said, “All my friends are here”.  It was so simply sincere and such an honest answer.  I haven’t quite formed my opinion on the entire situation here yet, but I’m constantly asking people about their thoughts and feelings.  Sometimes people have strong hateful judgments and sometimes they are indifferent or don’t want to speak about it.  The son asked me if I wanted to see Gaza.  I thought he was joking but said, “Of course”.  We put on our shoes and went walking into the nearby field.  I was actually nervous and told him it looked like a minefield… he giggled and scurried ahead.  Israeli’s are so strong and vibrant it’s inspiring.   We headed up a sand dune mountain and he pointed to the Southwest.  I was looking at the Gaza Strip.  The most infamous danger zone of the entire world was about 1 mile away.  Honestly, I had mixed feelings seeing the area.  I closed my eyes to take in the surroundings and was instantly hit with a sense of the hateful energy vibrating in the air.  The sky was a hazy dark gray and there was an uncomfortable silence lingering.  We headed back to the house before we were engulfed in the night.

Back at the house, we spoke more about the region’s belief systems and a human’s ability to overcome difficult situations.  It was a very powerful day.  On the drive home that night, I had a certain weird feeling lingering.  It was almost as if that area had sucked the life force out of me.  The hate between humans was evident like nothing I had ever seen.  One question I asked sums up the entire night.  I asked the group a general question “What would happen if we went to Gaza right now?”  I was expecting to hear that we would be looked at funny and maybe cursed at.  Almost at the same time, the entire family said, “We will be stoned to death.”