Dawgs Softball in Israel | ñåôèáåì éùøàì - äãåâæ

David. Gilgamesh. Odysseus. Pericles. Gustavus Adolphus. Davy Crockett. Sergeant York. Lou Gehrig. Jackie Robinson. The exploits of heroes are the stuff of legends, the narrative of culture, the coloratura of civilization. A new hero, a modern hero, a local hero, was born here in Israel last week. When British historian Sir William Fraser said, The Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton, in years hence, people will talk about the hero born on the playing fields of Gezer. It was career day in all Bronx schools. Even at the school near Sedgwick Avenue across from the Jerome Reservoir. The school’s guidance counselors held sessions, visited classes, and explained options, choices, and directions best suited for each student. “And what would you like to be when you grow up?” asked Mr. Mermelstein, the school’s guidance counselor to little Jimmy O’Toole. “I wanna open a tavern like my great grandpa did when he came from County Cork Ireland, “answered the little redhead. “Oh, that’s nice, smiled Mermelstein, in approval. “And you, Tony, what would you like to be when you get older,” he asked the little Manetti boy. Oh, I wanna take over my pappa’s construction company, garbage collection company, and his string of diners in New Jersey,” replied little Tony. “Oh, how enterprising, young man, noted Mermelstein. “And you, little Russell, what sort of career would you like to have when you grow up.” With nary a milli-second twixt question and response, little Russell Rothstein blurted out loudly, proudly, and with confidence, “A second baseman for the Yankees. The Stadium’s downtown and I could even walk to work.” Mermelstein frowned. He was silent. Then he spoke, in a low tone. Obvious, unmasked disapproval distinguished his voice. “Now Russell, what sort of profession is that for a nice little Jewish boy from the Bronx? A Jewish boy from the Bronx goes to Harvard and then to MIT. A Jewish boy from the Bronx becomes a doctor or a dentist or a lawyer or an accountant or a stockbroker. But not,” Mermelstein scoffed, “and I repeat, not a second baseman.” Russell’s academic career saw success after success. Yet, through the years, his dreams of playing on legendary baseball diamonds remained undiminished. And last week, the dream became real, and the hero was born when Russell Rothstein lit up the field and at shone at the plate and gave new meaning, heart, and hope to his Dawgs. In a fast-paced, see-saw game against Dimona’s Mean Judeans, a game that witnessed non-stop action on the bases, in the field, at the plate, the Dawgs put on an impressive performance with superb displays of slugging, running, and fielding. Though ultimately losing to Dimona, the Dawgs had every reason to be proud and to congratulate themselves on a stellar performance against one of the league’s best. And not be understated, was Russell’s inspiration. In the first inning, Shmuel Goldstein, focused and ready, set down the surprised Dimonans. A bullet to Russell, who lunged to his side and stopped it cold, highlighted the inning. The Dawgs first looked good. Young Dimonan pitcher Eliyed, with hot stuff on the ball, couldn’t find his groove, and the Dawgs pounced on him for three quick runs. Yehezkiel looped a single to start off, Jeremy took one for the team right in the back, and Russell walked. A fielder’s choice, walk for Shmuel, and a past ball cleared the Dawgs off the bases and put the Barkers up three. The Judeans came back swinging and slugging and running at a dizzying pace – all base hits, all clean shots. When the Shmuel and the Dawg defense set them down, they’d put seven big ones up on Gezer’s non-existent big board. In the third, veteran infielder and amateur baseball theoretician, Lowell Blackman, led off, coming in for Dawg coach Jon at first base. Undaunted by the Dimona catcher’s taunts that the old timer wanted to walk, Lowell eyed the ball carefully, waited him out, and got the free pass anyway. A past ball moved the one-time speedster, now an all-time slowster, to second base. Shmuel immediately walked. Albert looped a single to short right center field, scoring Lowell and moving Shmuel to third. Dave Sommer, now in the game, reached first. Young Yossi Glickman, unceremoniously forbidden from speaking to his girlfriend, Hila, till the following Friday, was now free to re-direct his libidinous impulses towards concentrating on the game, whereupon he drew a walk, allowing Shmuel to come home. The bases remained jammed. At this point, Russell stepped up to the plate, calling to mind illusions of Ernest L. Thayer’s immortal classic baseball epic, “Casey At The Bat”. Russell, however, rewrote the poem’s ending: From fifteen mighty Dawgie throats there rose a lusty yell; it rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell; It pounded through Tel Gezer’s hill and recoiled on the flat; for Russell, Bronx-born Russell, was advancing to the bat. But fearless Jon, our softball don, his faith he kept on high, He knew with Russell’s eye and bat, he surely was The Guy. There was ease in Russell’s manner as he stepped into his place, There was pride in Russell’s bearing and a smile on Russell’s face. Then, while Dimona’s pitcher ground the ball into his hip, Focus flashed in Russell’s eye, ‘twas tightness on his lip. And then the leather-covered sphere came hurtling towards the star, and Russell timed his swing – and swung! – and sent it long and far. It rose and arced and spun towards right; the fielder stood aghast At last it landed on the ground, and rolled both deep and fast While Dawgs upon the diamond’s paths did circle bases white Russell gathered speed and pace and ran with all his might. His wheels he spun, his race did run, round flew he every base, Till that final step at home and each Dawg’s cheering face. So hark! Do shout, do tell, do state - let blow the horn of ram For Russell Rothstein born of Bronx, did smash the great grand slam! But the top of the fourth saw a tremendous running catch by veteran All Star outfielder, Dr. Danny Epstein. Then, with two lean mean Judeans on base, the Dimonan batter tagged a sky-high infield pop with more spin it than a Clinton White House spokesperson. The infield fly rule was automatically invoked, the batter was called out, but Lowell, quickly recalling the original 1937 softball rule, dropped the ball, encouraging a Dimonan on first base to race to second. A quick, on the money throw from Lowell to Yehezkial cut the Crimsoner down – the heads-up double play ending the inning. The Dimona cheering section – families and friends of the visitors - added as much festive noise and spirit as the folk in the Cubs bleachers, hoping for a blowout that they thought would come in the fourth. The Dawgs last at bat was somewhat subdued, but the Mean Judeans – tamed to an extent, and now respectful of their adversaries – nonetheless, pulled off the victory. That tireless man, our pitcher Shmuel, up there upon the hill, Pitched a darn good game for us – for this we hail him still; And lest we err and soon forget, a team is but a team And all its players played their parts, and kept right on the beam. Yes, Albert, Nathan, Jeremy, Yaniv all gave their best, Yehuda out in right and Jon, and those named ‘fore - the rest. Bird’s eye view of Russell’s of grand slam home run: