In The Big Inning: When Baseball And Judaism Team Up
Two Orthodox teens make history and stir youthful memories.
Soggy field of dreams: Team Israel players retreat to the dugout during a rain delay Monday night in Pomona, NY. They went on to beat the New York Boulders 5-1.
Teenagers Jacob Steinmetz and Elie Klingman are all over media this week, living a uniquely American Jewish dream.
At least my dream, and doubtless many others who, as baseball-loving kids from observant Jewish homes, fantasized about the prospect of playing in the Major Leagues while keeping Shabbat, Yom Tov and kashrut.
Steinmetz, 17, a 6-foot-6, 224-pound right-handed pitcher from Woodmere, NY who can throw at 97 mph, and Klingman, 18, a switch-hitting catcher from Las Vegas, became the first Orthodox Jewish baseball players to be drafted by a Major League team.
Steinmetz was chosen in the third round of the draft by the Arizona Diamondbacks. Klingman was selected by the Washington Nationals in the 20th and final round.
I was excited for these two young men, and so impressed with their talent and commitment to the sport – and most notably to their religious principles.
Reading of how each plans a future combining faith and fortune took me back to my childhood when, from about the age of eight (until far longer than I choose to share with you here), I envisioned becoming a shortstop in the Major Leagues – careful to explain to anyone who would listen that I would keep kosher and walk to the ballpark on Shabbat or holidays.
Steinmetz and Klingman now have a serious shot at competing with the best professionals in the world. Unfortunately, my career peaked in Little League.
In truth, I was a fearless hitter – until, just before stepping up to the plate, I put on my metal protective helmet. At that point, the ear protectors muffled the sounds around me and my thoughts focused on the possibility that the kid standing on the mound was about to throw the ball very hard toward me. The result was a hesitant hitter standing too far from the plate to do much damage.
Still, I managed to maintain a remarkably high batting average, somewhere around .700, helped immeasurably by the fact that every ground-out I made I scored in my notebook as a hit, with an asterisk indicating that “it would’ve been a hit if I’d have run faster.”
The highlight of my baseball life came many years later, in 1983, when I had the chance to play on the field with my favorite team, the Baltimore Orioles. Granted, it was to be in a spring training exhibition game in a run-down ballpark in Miami, that it was the “B” squad game (not “A” squad game), and that I would only play an inning. But still, thanks to an arrangement made with the team by a well-placed friend in Baltimore, I was given a unique chance to be on the field with my heroes.
In the end, it didn’t happen. While I was driving to the ballpark, the skies opened up and the result was a torrential downpour. By the time I arrived, the game was canceled, leaving me deeply disappointed – but also somewhat relieved, spared of the possibility of making a fool of myself in front of men I so admired.
As a consolation, I was invited to visit the Oriole locker room. I am forever grateful to Ken Singleton, the classy outfielder who saw me hovering at the entrance and not only welcomed me but took me around to meet some of his teammates.
(This was the team that would go on to win the World Series that fall. Unfortunately, it was the last time the Orioles won the championship.)
There in the corner was movie-star handsome Jim Palmer, Nearby was the new kid, 23-year-old Cal Ripken, and not far away were a smiling Al Bumbry and team clown Rick Dempsey.
Sullen star Eddie Murphy was in another corner, unapproachable.
My most memorable encounter that day was with “The Blade,” Mark Belanger, the longtime smooth-fielding shortstop who had retired after the ’82 season and was visiting the clubhouse. As a left-handed shortstop, I asked him if he knew of any left-handed shortstops in the Major Leagues. Belanger was always known for his gentlemanly manner, but he gave me a sharp look, said “Never was, never will be,” and turned away.
Still, despite the rain, that day provided a sunny experience I’ll always cherish.
The same holds true for watching – in a steady rain -- Team Israel play an exhibition game in Pomona, NY on Monday night, a warm-up to the Tokyo Olympics later this month. After a two-hour rain delay, Team Israel beat the host New York Boulders (whose special uniforms spelled out “Boulders” in Hebrew) 5-1 in a game called after five innings because of the weather.
But the game itself was almost secondary for the thousands of enthusiastic fans who turned out, many wearing blue and white in honor of Israel’s colors. The crowd’s pride in the Jewish state was palpable during the pre-game tributes to the 11 Israeli Olympic athletes killed by Arab terrorists at the Munich Olympics 49 years ago, the singing of Hatikvah, and just seeing names across Team Israel jerseys like Bleich, Brodkowitz, Lipetz, Lipman, Rosenberg and Rosenbaum.
Taking it all in while sitting between my older son and his two teenage boys – baseball fans, all – I understood that dreams need not be of feats on a ballfield to come true.
P.S. A portion of this piece first appeared in “Spring Training,” a column published in The Jewish Week in March, 2008.