Dawgs Softball in Israel | ñåôèáåì éùøàì - äãåâæ

Jeff Taragin played on this team only once, and for only one game . . . But Jeff was the key person who introduced your webmaster and general manager (Shmuel) to the game of softball. Jeff was an "all-around guy", as his daughter Temimma has said. He was athletic - he played softball and tennis, swam, played the guitar, was a software engineer, learned and taught daf yomi, was a melodic baal koreh, dedicated to Yiddischkeit, and had a wonderful sense of humor. He was a model of a good person, a good Jew, had a good family, a good marriage, was tall, attractive, charismatic. The type of guy you would want your daughter to marry. There was just one problem: He was dying of cancer. Jeff passed away August 28, 2003, after a protracted battle against Lymphoma. He was 48 years old, and is survived by his wife, Aviva, his daughters Chaya (+husband and child), Temimma, and Shayna, son Yitzy, brothers Arnie and Sonney, sister Faith, and his mother, Rachel. He will be sorely missed, not least of all by me, Shmuel. --------------------------------------------------------------- Let me give you some more background history: Jeff Taragin arrived in Rehovot in 1995, with his family, looking for a more frum (religiously dedicated) environment than what he found in Raanana. He showed up at the "Chatam" synagogue, which was just finishing its new building. So, one evening after maariv [evening prayers] we were putting up the shelves for the library (which has since moved to the 3rd floor), and he pitched in (ha ha). He mentioned to me, and a few other guys "Hey, is there any baseball here in Rehovot?" I looked at him incredulously, saying "Uh, no . . . . ". A few days later, again after maariv he says to me "Hey, lets go out and bat the ball around, I found a place". The place is what they used to call the Maccabi Field in the center of Rehovot. It was just a dirt field, but it was available, and there we went. I found out that in contrast to my experience earlier as a child in the US, and as a yeshiva student at Ohr Somayach, that I could not only hit, but I could catch a long fly ball, and throw accurately. Aha. This is interesting. Well, next week Jeff turns to me after maariv, and said that he found a few more guys. Let's go out again. I didn't have a car then, and so he drove by and picked me up. I had things to do, and so wasn't too interested. Jeff said I *have* to come out, because I'm his franchise player. I guess this means the most important player. Jeff was like that - he had the talent of making almost anyone he spoke with feel good. Anway . . . we only batted around the ball a bit that day, but it was a lot of fun. This kept on going, and it became a habit. Every week, we would go out and hit the ball around, with more and more guys that both of us found, until one week, Jeff and I were able to get enough people together to actually play a game. The bases were cardboard boxes, the equipment was whatever Jeff had, and soon I nudged my brother-in-law (Todd Ehrlich) to bring over whatever equipment had from the US. Well, it took just a few more weeks for us to realize that the field, in the middle of town, was too centrally located for us to play. Everyone just waltzed right through the field as if they didn't know what baseball was, which they didn't. Remember, these are Israelis. Then it rained, and right after that the city decide to set up a temporary amusement park right in the middle of our baseball field. This lasted only a week, but the ruts and furrows from the wheels of the heavy equipment made it impossible to play. So, one day Jeff mentioned to me that he heard that there is a place on the south side of Rehovot were people used to play. Shmuel, come out with me and let's look for it. So one evening (after maariv and daf yomi, of course), we snooped around together, and found it. This is the ORT field, so named because it's right next to the ORT school. So, we called up everyone on our list, and told them that we are moving the field. By this time (spring 1996), it was clear that "the game" was organized by Jeff and me. Jeff would get guys, and brought a high level of play, in addition to his son, Yitzy (10 y/o at the time). During the course of time, I acquired more equipment - bats, balls, and we took up a collection to buy bases. I remember both me and Jeff nudging Danny Rabinowitz, during a trip to the US for a wedding, to use his luggage allotment to bring the bases back. It is very difficult to get baseball equipment here in Israel (or at least it used to be). So, Jeff and I almost always picked teams. This means that we always played on opposite teams, and the game turned into Jeff vs. Shmuel. Guess who won most of the time (it wasn't me). Yea, Jeff was a nice guy, but I'll tell you, he played to WIN. So, everyone settled down to a weekly pick-up softball game, slowpitch (without an arc), no tagging up (can you believe it?), and very rarely calling balls and strikes. I even bought a fertilizer spreader, and adapted it so that it can lay down that white powder for the third base and first base foul lines - every week, I'd go out either the night before, or half an hour before the game and line the field. For an article on the game (in Hebrew), go to Albums -> Dawgs in the News, or use this link: Albums - Dawgs in the News. Unfortunately, the reporter was there on one of the rare weeks that Jeff wasn't. Towards the fall of '96, Jeff mentioned to me a guy named David (turns out this is David Gilore), who is involved in a softball league. You see, Jeff saw that I was getting very serious about this. So, after a couple of months of mulling it over, I did indeed call "David", and we started talking, and he invited me to a meeting. Turns out this was the captain's meeting in Feb. 1997, right before the 1997 season of the ISA. So, I came to the meeting where I met people involved in the softball league, including David Gilore, Burt Faudem, Larry Silverman, Goose Gillette, Richard Duffy, and others. The captain of the new, expansion team to which I was "assigned" was Peter Baker, and the sponsor was Nafti Wexler, owner of Glomar Vertical Blinds. Well, for the softball history, the rest is written in the History of the Dawgs -> 1997 link. Back to Jeff . . . The Friday afternoon game kept on going, every week, week after week, summer, winter, all the time. The field had great drainage, and I think we were rained out only 2 or 3 times each year. In 1998, Ed Miller made aliyah from Pittsburgh. He coached Little League there, and wanted to start it up in Rehovot. So, after applying more than a little pressure on Jeff, and after Jeff realized that his son Yitzy would benefit from it, we switched the pick-up game from the afternoon to the morning, thus freeing up the field for the kids in the afternoon. That way, we were also able to have an adult game, and not worry about a 12 year old wanting to come and play. That was always a problem. Someone would come, and bring his kid with him. "Can he play, too?" The kid would be, well, a kid. Meaning that he doesn't run as fast, he can't hit as far, or throw as far. You also don't want to throw with all your strength at a kid. Makes for a less interesting game, and besides, who would pick the kid? We tried to make a rule saying "no kids", but it was difficult, especially when you needed someone in right field. But Jeff, well, Jeff had a way of taking care of his family. Never mind that there was a "no kids" rule, Yitzy was always in the game somehow. And you know what? Jeff later told me that he did the whole thing just so Yitzy can play ball. If Yitzy couldn't do it, then it wouldn't be worth it for him. Several times, I tried to get Jeff to join the fastpitch softball team I was involved in. But he always demurred. I thought at the time that it was so important to him to win that he didn't want to take the chance. But I saw later that that was not the reason at all. Like Temimma said, he was an all-around guy, and balanced his life: After playing ball on Fridays, he quite often would take his family and go on a short "tiyul" (Hebrew for day-trip). I remember him telling me about a great swimming hole called "Hof Zikim", near Ashkelon. A little wadi empties, or tries to empty into the sea. You can swim in the sea, or in the wadi. Jeff told me exactly how to get in without having to pay. During the week in Chatam, I would see him at the daf yomi table, either listening, or later, giving the shiur (lesson). Daf yomi is a world-wide program for learning one page of Talmud a day. To finish, it takes 7 and a half years. Truth is, I did for a while before Jeff came to Rehovot, but things just got too hectic for me. But not for Jeff. I guess he couldn't come play fastpitch with the Dawgs (Glomar, then) because he was too busy with daf yomi. He also lavished attention on his kids, or at least seemed to. He was always talking about Yitzy this, and Chaya that, and then Temimma, and then little Shayna. In fact, I am hard pressed to remember him coming out any Friday without Yitzy, until he got older, and there was Little League in Rehovot. But there was a time, I believe it was 1999, the first year Dimona was playing in the ISA, when I was really hurting for guys for ONE game. I don't know why, but a whole bunch of guys that one evening said they couldn't come out. So, I got Jeff, and yes - Yitzy (who was now almost 13), and even Eli Krantman to come out and play that one game. I saw right away that fastpitch was not Jeff's game. Let's leave it at that. But it was very good to Eli and to Yitzy. One of the Dimona fans said to Eli, in her best American Black accent "Hit the baw, Elleh" And all this time, Friday softball in Rehovot kept on going. The Chatam guys (Jeff eventually got almost everyone there to play softball at one point, including South African cricketer Reuven Pokroy) usually go to Rav Stein's house on Purim night to drink, sing badly, and have an all around good time (definitely male bonding, this Purim thing). So, fine, kind of yeshivish actually. The first Purim he's in Rehovot, Jeff shows up. He brings his guitar, with small amplifiers, and starts to play. Hey, he can play a guitar, too ? What can this guy NOT do ?!? Hey, cool - half of us were drunk, so that helped the mood, but it seems that Jeff didn't touch the sauce. Maybe I'm wrong. But his guitar added an extra dimension to the Purim atmosphere, no question about it. It was great, and next Purim, we all looked forward to him coming again, and he did. One day, I think it was summer 1999, I saw him walking along to somewhere, I don't remember to where, and I saw some bandages on the back of his neck. "Hey, Jeff, what happened to you?" I said, gesturing to his neck. "Oh, it's nothing, they just wanted to check something." "Hmmmmmm, *check* something ?? What did they want to check?" "Well, they thought they found something that needs to be taken care of." At this point, I realized that he didn't want to go into too much detail, and I didn't want to interrogate the guy, so all I said was that I hope they found it and that it won't bother him anymore. "Omayn" he responded in that typical way of his. I did have an ominous feeling about it, and I mentioned it to someone else (I forget who, but it wasn't a family member), and that person told me that Jeff had some suspicious growths in his lymph nodes, and that it wasn't a new thing. Oh dear. I never forgot that incident, and when I got phone calls telling me Jeff was sick, or that he had to go in for tests, I knew it was lymphoma, without having to be told. One wants to deny these things, and we all learned the hard way, that we must face reality. My denial went like this: Last fall (December 2002), I heard that he was "really" sick, and so I called him up, expecting to get Aviva, or someone else at home. I got Jeff. He sounded great, and didn't tell me how really sick he was. So, stupid me, I took it at face value. I mean, we've all been sick, right? You get sick, you get a fever, you lay down for a few days, take some aspirin, and you get better, right? A guy like Jeff, get SICK !?! I mean, what is he, 90 years old? It didn't register in my brain. I think it's because I didn't see him in the last two years or so, after we moved from Rehovot to Revava. From what I've been told, he had all the symptoms of someone on chemotherapy - loss of weight (can you imagine that? I mean, look at the pictures - this is NOT a fat man), and loss of hair. Had I seen him, I think the reality would have hit me like a ton of bricks. Instead, the reality hit me when I was told that he's in the hospital, and no, I cannot visit him, and no one can visit him. This was about a week before he left us. So, I called his house again, thinking, hey, gee, I spoke to him just a few months ago, I'll speak to him again. No, Shmuel, you will not speak to him again.

By Lowell Blackman Down from the north, not far from the gusty, chilly winter winds that blow from the snow-capped mountains of Lebanon, came the intrepid Shomrat squad. The Dawgs, trickling in to the field at Baptist Village not far from the source of the mighty Yarkon River, began their warm-ups, their stretching, their throwing, and their batting practice. Occasional barks and canine howls filled the humid night air and echoed in the distance as if to portend an ominous evening for the Northmen. At game time, Jon, the quiet, thoughtful manager went through the line-up and reminded the team to be alert about this strategy and that tactic, encouraging players – vets and pups alike - that Dawg chances in this face-off were good. Shomrat – a.k.a. TTT – came to bat in their impressive uniforms – still blue from the days when the furniture-crafting kibbutz, under the guidance of Wild Bill and Ageless Bob Samuels, fielded a team called the Cubs. Action, movement, and noise were quick to come. The Shomratniks leaped on the ball, hitting away, stealing bases, running, and advancing, and the inning only ended when the howitzer arm of Albert - “Psteechka” - gunned down a TTTer as he challenged the Dawg catcher. When the fog, smog, and dust cleared, the Shomratniks were up by five. The Dawgs had a runner in the bottom of the first – Danny – but he was left stranded on base, as lonely as a jilted groom. A series of walks, a wild pitch, a stolen base, an outfield miscue, and a string of Northmen hits put four more on the big board for the visitors. Shmuel, now in his alter ego role as a fine batter, walked to lead the bottom of the second. It was now the Dawgs turn to have their day. A fielder’s choice, with Jon swinging away, got Shmuel to second from where he raced to third on a wild pitch and an error on the part of the shortstop, brought him home. A HPB got Danny to first to load the bases, setting the stage for Yehezkiel – “the Goose” – to smash a shot up the middle sending two Dawgs in to the kennel. Russell, the Bronx Bomber, the Harvard Hitman, the MIT Masher, followed with another timely hit, bringing in another Dawg and advancing to second on a picture-perfect slide. Albert walked as the team batted around, sending Shmuel up to the plate again. Giving it his best, he couldn’t get them home, and the inning ended with four on the board for the Dawgs. The TTTers added two runs to their tally in the top of the third, but the real star of the inning was Russell “the Glove”, making two putouts that could have appeared in Sports Illustrated photos of the week interspersed with pix of a bevy of bikini-clad beauties in the annual swimsuit issue. The Dawgs, undaunted by the Shomratnik lead, came up to bat with Jon drawing a lead-off walk. A fielder’s choice, with Jeremy swinging away, forced Jon off the bases, but Jeremy advanced on a steal, went to third on a sac fly, and made it home. Dave, up next, made it to first and later on to second, where he was called eventually called out in the longest delayed umpire call since a drunken Abner Doubleday, in 1876, subbing for an even drunker umpire, Merriweather Hooper, waited until after dinner to call a sober Cincinnati Redstockings runner, Jedediah C. Chamberlain, out at first base on a play in which the runner was undeniably safe. So the Dawgs only managed to add one to their tally. In the top of the fourth, Shmuel, settling down, faced four batters, walked one, and set down the next two. A cheeky Northman attempted to advance to second but Albert’s “Arrow” dispatched him faster than a lie could pass Yasser Arafat’s lips. “Not even close”, a reliable source confessed. Encouraged by this scoreless inning, pumped up by Jon’s encouraging words, the Dawgs exploded. A walk, a wild pitch, an advance, a bad throw, a hit, a walk, a wild pitch, and a walk – Danny, Yehezkiel, Russell - in rapid fire succession, set the stage for Albert’s bloop, another RBI, a sac fly, and four more runs went up for the Dawgs. The top of the fifth saw one of the most daring and creative defensive changes in Dawg history. Jon put Lowell in right field, a position he had played eons before – along with centerfield – in the heady days of MASH and Crazy Richard. A succession of hits, however, mostly grounders through infield gaps, brought in four Shomratniks. The Dawgs, down by two before the inning began, now faced a six run deficit. Lowell flied out to first, Danny walked, and Yehezkial’s bat stayed hot, but with two on, the next two batters went down, and the Dawgs lined ‘em up to congratulate the winning team. Despite the Dawgs’ defeat, efforts worthy of mention go to Jeremy’s RPG arm at third, Yaniv’s wheels in center and his heads-up backups on plays, Danny’s steady work in the outfield, and yes, “Mr Blue” - Bob Kessler – who according to this sportswriter, called a good game behind the plate. Eternally undaunted, the Dawgs face Ziontours in their next outing, led by vets Richard Duffy, Dave Epstein, and others, as well as their usual crew of teenage Zits.

By Lowell Blackman The ballfield at Gezer, lying at the foothills of one of Solomon’s fortified cities, once again, in a span of three weeks, became the site of a softball face-off bearing all the trappings of epic Icelandic sagas, of Greek Olympian duels, and of ancient encounters of Biblical proportions. Nearly faced with the possibility of forfeiting the game as the result of a dearth of Dawgs in the kennel, Lowell, “the Beagle”, the veteran, having experienced a senior moment and believing the game had been played the night before, sped from home in his 1.2L FIAT Punto to make it to the game, followed thereafter by Nathan in his spanking new Honda Civic. The Dawgs were in the game like a bunch of junkyard hounds on a burglar, playing heads up defense in the early innings. Albert’s howitzer arm cut down a Dimonan at second ending a threat, while Russell’s spectacular over the shoulder catch in short right field stranded some Mean Judeans and ended the inning. Confessed Russell later, “It’s the way we learned to run and dodge gangs in the Bronx.” 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. Albert sparkled at the plate, smashing a single, stealing second, and heading to third with two out, but was left on base when Lowell couldn’t quite get around on a Yaron bullet, chopping it to Dimona’s second baseman for the final out. On a somewhat subdued Fan Appreciation Night, spirited Robert, ever the heads-up hustler, began the first leg of a journey that would eventually take him round the diamond. After racing to first on a third strike past ball, he stole second, moved to third, and finally scored, tagging up on a sac fly – and all in the presence of his personal fan club – his own third grader, Daniel. In the fourth, with Dimona at bat, Shmuel, taking something off the ball, then putting it back on, tweaking it here, junking it there, got the Mean Judeans to become a little less mean, as he humbled them with three fly balls to the outfield, two of which were snagged with DiMaggioesque poetic grace by center fielder Danny. One of the strangest plays of the game transpired in Dimona’s at bat in the fifth. With first and third, a Judean batter lifted a high infield fly well behind third base. As Lowell ran out hoping to snag it, he saw Yehezkial behind him and under it, ready to make the grab. Instead, the Argie shortstop let the ball - with more backspin, frontspin, overspin, and sidespin on it than a Hillary Clinton answer to the question “What’s two plus two?” – drop down off his chest and on to the ground. Quickly picking it up as Dimona’s runner on third, who had earlier stuck to the base, began to race home, Yehezkial’s fireball to Albert, cut down the hapless youngster before he could say “Oy Caramba!” Still, the hard-hitting, rough and tumble, rabbits-on-the-bases, always-in-motion Dimonans put on a show and beat the Dawgs with an outburst of runs in one particularly tough inning. Shmuel’s workhorse pitching and Jon’s smart strategy were of little avail in the face of such a finely tuned Dimonan crew. Though ultimately losing to Dimona, the Dawgs had every reason to be proud and to congratulate themselves again on a tough, tenacious, and bulldoggish performance against one of the league’s best. And so, it was here, on the rolling plains around the baseball diamond that Joshua commanded, “Sun, stand thou still, upon Gibeon; and thou, moon, in the valley of Ayalon.” And the sun stood still and the moon stood still. Could a modern Dimonan have uttered something akin to that incantation, modernized and reworked for the moment, “Dawg bats, stand ye still, and Dawgs, sit ye down”?

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:

(Click on title for Game recap) The first annual ISF North/South All-Star game came off without a hitch. It was a great night of fun for all who turned out--players, coaches, and fans. It was nice to see a good crowd out there to enjoy the game. The DAWGS had four players in the game: Yechezkel Gantz, Danny Epstein, Robert Even, and pitcher Shmuel Goldstein. Yechezkel Gantz was the only DAWG opener, doing a wonderful job catching the wild David Rubinstein of Shomrat. Yechezkel walked, singled, and scored a run. He left the game in the 3rd, but retured in the 7th during the North's unsuccessful attempt to shut down the South. Danny Epstein entered in the 5th inning, and caught a Ben Khai fly ball in left field. Danny struck out to Goose, and fielded out in the 6th. Robert Even entered in the 5th in Right Field, was walked by Goose, eventually scoring, and in the sixth was fielded out. Shmuel came in to pitch (did not bat) in the 5th and 6th innings. He struck out opposing pitcher Itamar Megiddo, walked Blair Portnoy, and hit Mike Doktofsky, who was glad he had a helmet. Shmuel saw 13 batters, threw 46 pitches, 25 strikes, and allowed 6 runs, 3 earned. ------------------------------------------------------------------ The game itself was not all that close, with the South prevailing 15/6, primarily on a very rough start by Shomrot's number one gun, David Rubinstein. After he walked the first 5 batters (6 in all in the inning) and 3 successive singles, the South jumped out to a quick 7-0 lead. After the first two innings, Coach Bob Kessler brought in Ilan Spira who kept the South's bats in check until the 5th when the South put 4 more runs on the board to make it 11-0. Yarone ben Israel of Dimona completely shut down the North, striking out 5 of the 10 batters that he faced over the first 3 innings. The North tried to battle back with a 5-run surge in the top of the 5th to make the game a little more interesting. There was a big double by Tim Cummings and singles by Dan Haskell and Guy Bender which was also aided by some suspect defense. But the South struck back immediately to put the game out of reach with 4 more runs in the final 2 innings. Itamar Megiddo (South) closed things out, allowing only 1 run. The outstanding defensive play by short stop Eli Natan (South) of Dimona who made 2 athletic plays (one of which lead to the inning-ending unassisted double play) took the life out of the North's rally. Eli Natan also contributed a triple and a double and scored 3 runs. He was named the MVP of the game. North Line Up ------------------ Guy Bender Micah Winston Danny Epstein (DAWG) Roy Sivan Asaf Halevi David Aron Dan Haskell Josh Goldner Tim Cummings Yehezkel Gantz (DAWG) Vadim Gasand-zde Aviv Yaakov Robert Even (DAWG) David Rubinstein Ilan Spira Shmuel Goldstein (DAWG) South Line Up -------------------- Ben Khai Blair Portnoy Eli Natan Mike Doktofsky Richard Duffy Yarone Akaziah Gil Siegel Amit Megiddo Jeff Mor Itamar Megiddo Goose Gillett