Although one particular route has always been at our quarterbacks’ disposal, it was never consistently used (and certainly not executed to such exquisite perfection) – until this season. It took brothers – Dachs to Dax – to show us the full potential and devastating effectiveness of the comeback route. To work, the maneuver mandates a lot of things go right. It requires a sequence of conditions met relating to speed and distance and timing. More than any of that – it requires faith. That the receiver stops at the agreed upon moment and deceptively returns to a previously tread spot. That the QB will release the ball at the split second his target slams the breaks so the defender is unable to react. Perhaps this unquantifiable element of faith (above all the technical criteria) is why it remains an unpopular play call. But – as we saw – when handled properly and with precision, it is nearly unstoppable.

Jewball, I’m done talking about our miracles and magic with a golly-gee naivete. Yes, we are supremely blessed and over the past five years built an absolute behemoth. Yes, it was built on the backs of dedicated Vets and Dark Age Rookies who loved Jewball even when we had far less (or even nothing) to love. It was built particularly on the wings of Yaron, our guardian angel of the Revolution. But we’ve graduated from being dumbstruck by the phenomenon. It happened. No question we capitalized on it. We stared our good fortune in the face and boldly declared that fate could do even better. And even better then. So here we are. Enlightened AF. A bunch of lucky bastards with a fierce, greedy conviction to keep our luck going. We’ve freed ourselves up to talk about something else.

As I pondered this past season and made my notes – a recurring theme became impossible to ignore. In the midst of our overwhelming success and spoils accrued on a global level, there were too many stories of individual struggles and hardship. Too damn many.

I know he will be uncomfortable that I’m talking about this first, but how could I not? PJs literally left his last game of last season in an ambulance after getting knocked unconscious. Did we laugh about it? Of course! But, I mean, it’s not a joke. Everything about his well-being and future was at risk. He was said to be done for good (take note, Singer). Doctors’ orders. Wife’s orders. How could he dare continue to play football (and do all the other incredible things he does for us) when the stakes were so high? The answer: I don’t know how he dared. I just know he did. I know he came back.

I know he will hate that I’m talking about him at all (and the cold sweat breaks out as I type), but if this isn’t a safe space then I’m doing that thing in Donnie Brasco where Al Pacino holds a gun to his head in the car. Gronk had about as bad an off-season as someone could have. Fact. He’s our Jewball brother. Fact. Deal with those two converging facts however you like. But I know that we needed (and will need) him – and vice versa. And I know we can hold our heads up high on judgment day. But, for him, being truly in the depths of (and he will admit it, self-inflicted) hell: How could he show up on Sundays, look us in the eyes, and manage his trademark smirk? The answer is I don’t know how he found the courage. But I know he found it. I know he came back.

If I have the time as this polemic unspools, I will get to our injured players who returned against all odds. I can get to Spira who returned against all logic and precedent. But you see the direction I am heading in to establish this year’s unifying epicenter: 2022-2023 was – more than anything else – more than the year of the Rookie takeover (but, we will most assuredly get to that – as it factors in with serendipitous exactitude) – this was the Year of the Comeback.

We needed a comeback almost immediately. With last year’s League Champion quarterback being MIA, we were in full scouting mode. You ask me if I remember the QB who beat our team last year at Greis, relishing every second of the beatdown, yelling Let’s Fucking Gooooo with an obnoxious finger pointed in the air as he chased down the receiver who just caught a bomb TD? Yeah, I can picture him. He was the enemy. He was not a Jewballer. He was pure Croton. The anti-Jewballer. But we needed a QB and Yaron thought we could get him and his talented brother. Yaron targeted a bunch of guys as Daveo targets everyone. I was (and still am) cautious. My job is to protect Jewball for the Jewballers. To keep it closeknit and grounded. Yaron and Daveo one thousand percent would never do anything to hurt Jewball consciously, but I do know they see (or saw) it’s future differently than I did.

So it turned out the diminutive assassin who radiates competitiveness had a name – Sruli Dachs. The brother was Mordy. I was told things about them by the always optimistic Yaron – that their joining us was possible – but I would believe it when it happened. I also didn’t know if I wanted it to happen. That’s the thing about rookies. Bringing them in is scary. It feels like messing with perfection. More than that – it always feels like jeopardizing perfection.

I saw Mordy – who seemed a lot more human/personable than his bro – at a volleyball game. Turned out he knew Zez and was the son in law of Jonas, who I’d been playing volleyball with for five years. Good signs. I saw Mordy again at softball and Pray was there and we brought up Jewball and his brother. This is where I learned about the infamous Yaron messages to Sruli. Two thousand words explaining that Jewball is not a cult. Mordy – with his surfer bro laugh and smile – assured me that Sruli was out (and disturbed) and that Mordy might check us out (which sounded like him just being polite). If you would have asked me to bet money at that moment whether Sruli would be rocking an I LOVE JEWBALL sweatshirt on Chanukah, drinking a l’chaim with me and Mordy in my house on Purim, then dancing with us in Daveo’s dungeon, and finally winning both Vets Rooks for the Rooks and a Jewball League Championship – I’d probably be broke right now. I would have bet every dime I had against that. As would any of you.
I’m not going to go through every rookie storyline. I will say I was hesitant about each one except Stats since I knew he was Jewball material. The second you meet Oppen, it’s game over. You’re melted. Even if he wasn’t a remarkable talent, the positive energy alone makes him a keeper.

Now, to be Rookie of the Year, in this class – how special do you have to be? Think about it. I mean….think about who came in….and then think about what it would take to be undisputed Rookie of the Year.

And I’ll tell you why it’s Zinn. Because it has nothing to do with football. He’s a mesmerizing athlete. That is not up for debate. You watch him in any game he plays and he will do one or two things that prove his talent massive. But, for me, I’m more impressed by his showing up to Munch’s house before the draft. I’m more impressed that he craves football and wants to wring every drop of it from our offerings. I’m more impressed that he was at Theo’s bris. I’m more impressed that he looks to organize and steps up to lead. I’m more impressed that he doesn’t complain when I randomized the hell out of him in the early going so his wins and good targets were few. That he plays in Bowl Games with the same vigor that he does regular weeks and league weeks. That he scoots to the game after minyan. He is our Rookie of the Year because he gets what we are trying to do here beyond football – and if he doesn’t fully get it (at 20/21 years old!), he fully ventures to get it. That – plus all the talent and competitive spirit in the world – is what makes Zinn the spotlight player of – and it’s not even remotely a question – the greatest infusion of rookie talent our almost 30 year game has even known.

“We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.”

The above is a quote from Orson Welles, who was a genius, but potentially insane as well. It’s a cynical take on existence. I don’t buy into it, but we have to admit that in many ways – although we are together with others – as we are currently “together” reading this – we are trapped in a fortress of solitude.
I bring it up because when I think about the comebacks that manifested over the course of this past season, though I take pride in the love and friendship that motivated them, I also realize that comebacks are very much a personal and lonely road.

I think about Irv and his accursed nagging back. I think about Waldo in agony rehabbing his broken collarbone. I think about Singer and his season from hell. And of course I think about Pray being wheeled to shul on Yom Kippur.

These are just a few examples of physical injuries and the aloneness they surely engendered within the player. I think of other Jewballers as well going through difficulties in life – God should bless us all. And there is no question that a comeback demands an internal fortitude and mental toughness that relies entirely on the individual. Where I would argue with Welles is that love and friendship is a mere illusion.

When Dax runs his route hard down the sideline, he does so alone. It is him pushing himself using only his brain, heart, lungs, and muscle. But the instant he turns to come back, it becomes a mutual endeavor. He relies on his brother to be there for him. To convert faith into real world action. To deliver on the promise and potential of that faith. To supplant the illusion of his going it alone with a predestined team effort.

That’s a comeback route in football. A comeback in life (as in Jewball) is equally a team effort. It requires many things from the collective, but among them are patience, compassion, and sympathy. Sometimes forgiveness. Both parties must be willing to see beyond the temporary “reality” and take the long view. To maintain perspective. The Year of the Comeback is the year where we proved that love and friendship is no illusion.

A comeback also needs inspiration. Some light at the end of the tunnel to make the fight worth fighting. To get one through those bleak moments of isolation.

It is no coincidence that the Year of the Comeback coincided with the year of birth and rebirth. The year of youthful exuberance on the field and the year of flourishing families off it. When perhaps many of us were this close to giving in to the weakness, we couldn’t help but see the teeming, thriving life pouring in from Jewball – and it acted the Muse. It carried us back like a providential current.

I needed a comeback. I needed your patience, sympathy and forgiveness. As beautiful as Draft Night was, it was marred by poor decisions that fall on me. It tainted the entire season. I imagine at some point we overcame and replaced the bad Draft Night vibes, but that was a team effort.

I don’t want to get too sentimental here, but – when you get older you get to observe life more often than participate in it. And I observed that we are all trying to overcome something. Some more obvious than others – but I see in many ways we are each constantly in the middle of a Jewball comeback. For me it is age, but for others it might be an awkwardness or emptiness. A trauma, a loss, a troubled relationship, youth, or mistakes made and regretted. Many of us arrive here as damaged goods to no fault of our own. This reminds of an unforgettable and cherished conversation I had with PJs on a windy night coming home from Vegh’s shalom zachor.

Sometimes life feels like a Bowl Game. It just keeps going and going and you have all the time in the world to figure your shit out. And just like that it can become TNF where half time came and went in a flash and Dom is yelling, “2 minutes! Clock is running!”

I want us to always be a place for great football. I’m so proud of our being right now a place for great football. I’m even more proud of our being a place for great stories. For great redemption. For great second and third and fourth chances. For resilient comebacks.

Let’s talk about some of these stories and some of these comebacks. As they are the building blocks of this season.

At the 2021 Draft Party, a kid showed up who seemed to place himself in constant shadow. He was there of his own free will so there was no doubting his choice to be present. Yet he seemed at the same time as if trying to fold himself into nothingness. To disappear. I say this not to embarrass The Rook, but to cite him as the ultimate example of someone who had blind faith in us – who we had blind faith in – and – how did that turn out? He is our brother for life. He is my brother for life. And he’s one hell of a football player. After coming out of his shell/car seat last season and only showing flashes of brilliance, his 2022 season cemented him as top of the draft talent. The Rook is on The Rise. Special shout out to Beast and the X-Factor.

I don’t know Perla well yet. He’s guarded. All good. Respect that. I do know he was out of the game for a while. I know Yaron kept tabs on him as a possible QB for us. I know he reached out to give us a try and of course we said yes. There is no greater commodity in Jewball than a competitive QB. He came down in his parka with the hood up, the wristband and stuck in his ways. He came down with whatever baggage he carried, like we all do, but without being open yet to us carrying any of it for him – with him. So it felt like a challenge. Perhaps not the best fit. But then he went on TBI. An act of faith. And so began the comeback. So began the legend. Culminating in perhaps the most joyous moment of the Jewball season. Perla, wrapped in a White Goodman cape, pumping his fist, which clenched a purple -shirt, as the crowd chanted “SAY-LEM! SAY-LEM! SAY-LEM!” Right there – a snapshot of what separates us. A room of men and women proving Welles got it wrong.

I’ve told the story in a prior recap, but just so it gets the bold and underlined treatment – Spira’s comeback to Jewball is a wonderment of biblical proportions. It’s incomprehensible. And yet….it’s just one of our many incomprehensible comebacks. Let that sink in. I’m not going to say Jewball is a place where miracles happen, but – I will say – that Jewball is a place where some miracles have happened. And speaking of miracles….

Pray won MVP two seasons ago and the sentiment that I come back to often with him from that Season Recap is that if the Vets commissioned a team of geneticists to create the perfect Jewball Rookie in a lab – so as to assure us a future of success and longevity – the result would be Pray. What is the man lacking in? When I think of one incredible quality as being his premiere endearing feature, it is immediately replaced by another. Generosity. Kindness. Passion. Leadership. Competitiveness. Wisdom. Humility. See what I mean? Everyone is nodding their heads. Because it does keep going. We knew all these things about Pray before this season and took them for granted. What we did not know about him was that he was superhuman. What no one could know was how he would respond to extreme physical adversity. We had no stick with which to measure his capacity to come back.

I don’t need to remind you of his grueling journey from surgery through the League Championship Game. A game in which he threw a TD to Goldberg, who was mounting a comeback of his own. We can all picture Pray on the sidelines in his cast, and boot, and brace, and whatever other contraptions he needed to wear as he spectated with envy. The man always came out. Always made sure to bring to Jewball whatever he could – even if it was not on the field of play. He brings dignity, gravitas, and a magnetic aura wherever he goes. And if that was all he could contribute to Jewball this season – it would have sucked for him and us – but it would have been enough. It would have been the best he could do and much appreciated.

What we learned about Pray this past season is that there is depth to him that no one can possibly fathom. You don’t come back from his injury in the same season and perform at the level he performed at unless you have the filthiest of determinations. Essentially, Pray, you are on the inside someone the rest of us mere mortals cannot fully understand.

In the year of one fantastical comeback story after another, Pray won Comeback Player of the Year. And, yet, he was not our best comeback story.

Our best comeback story belongs to our 2022-2023 Jewball MVP.
There’s a place in the world for the angry young man
With his working class ties and his radical plans
He refuses to bend
He refuses to crawl
He’s always at home with his back to the wall
And he’s proud of his scars and the battles he’s lost
And he struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross
And he likes to be known as the angry young man
Billy Joel wrote these lyrics even before I was born, so surely before Storm was born. But there is a certain type, and the great songwriter nailed it. He goes on:
Give a moment or two to the angry young man
With his foot in his mouth and his heart in his hand
He’s been stabbed in the back
He’s been misunderstood
It’s a comfort to know his intentions are good
And he sits in a room with a lock on the door
With his maps and his medals laid out on the floor
And he likes to be known as the angry young man
As distressed as I was on draft night, Storm was fuming. My Assmen teammate saw every selection prior to his as disrespect – and there were five infuriating rounds of disrespect. Storm came to us four seasons ago mid-season. An angry young man. It was a very memorable game at Woodmere Middle School where he battled with Mighty, maybe almost got into fight, roared after he made a reception, and maintained an audible inner-dialogue the entire time. Yaron called him John. I called him Storm because you couldn’t watch him on the field and not perceive the bolts of lightning or hear the thunder rumbling just below his surface. After the bunch of games he played that season, it was hard to tell if Jewball and Storm would forever clash or find common ground.

One thing that became eminently apparent about Storm was the brilliance of his game. The other thing was his style. He is someone who could show up to game and takeover, but – whether he played well or played in a fog – he made sure he had the right gear, the right cleats, the right attitude. There is a reason he is Kill’s favorite player. His bravado never feels arrogant, though. It’s a personal reflection. It’s often as if he is celebrating his accomplishments to prove something only to himself and we just happen to be witnesses. Whether it be “Stat! Count It,” “Why don’t you come over for dinner,” or “Mama Storm didn’t raise no bitch,” his lines are instant classics. And not because he is trying to make anything happen. He’s a natural showman. He is as real as they come. His realness flows from him in every interaction. On the sidelines, he’s the best guy you will ever meet and it’s all love and laughs. In the game, he’s going to another place. A place where he doesn’t know any of us. A place where there are his teammates and those trying to stop his teammates and him from winning. And the latter must be dealt with accordingly. He plays like football is the word of God. Like nothing matters more. It’s a level that very few of us are even capable of conceptualizing. His devotion to the craft of football – it doesn’t get higher in our group.
The problem for Storm has been that he was never able to fully put all that brilliance and style and passion on display. We saw it in bursts. We knew it was in there. But it never came together in a stream of sustained excellence – until this season. From wire to wire he brought his signature fire and intensity and did not relent. Zinn came in set to torch the record books and Storm stuck with him stride for stride. And while Zinn had an MVP caliber season in terms of pure numbers, he will have to settle for being the latest golden child of Jewball. This is the Year of the Comeback and to be Jewball Season MVP, you have had to have gone through the ringer.

Listen, I don’t know everything Storm has been through. What he’s had to overcome. I’m not going to pretend I do. But I know he has had his struggles and hardships. More than his fair share. And instead of wallowing in them or giving in to them – he suffused them into his spectacular performances on Sunday mornings. No one does more with a chip on his shoulder. No one here is real enough to convert that chip into an actual tactical advantage. We say it. He does it. He did it. Because of Draft Night, the comeback was on. He brought a razor-blade-sharp edginess to the field every week. But – somehow – and this is Storm’s distinction – he plays ice cold, but it’s the farthest thing from who he is. He’s all heart. A tough exterior masking a vulnerable soul. Storm, you are our 2022 Season MVP because you brought a passion for football to Jewball that we had not previously known. You put your faith in us to give you the quality of football that you demanded of yourself. You showed us that before we worry about the expectations of others, we need to set the highest bar for the expectations we have of ourselves. It was always clear to us the level of game you expected of yourself – and this past season – you finally showed everyone what you are capable of. And I’m sure you are still hungry. I’m sure the chip is still on your shoulder as you prepare for Draft Night 2023.

And speaking of Draft Night 2023, let us count the comeback stories waiting to be written. Beast, Feit, Goldberg, Irv, Singer, Rabin, Snow, Maor, Daveo, Sting, to name just a few. Like I said, we are all in the middle of our own personal comeback. Just gotta dig deep and write it. But….like I also said….it’s a team effort. And Jewball is here for you.

We are a place where miracles have happened. Believe that. You’ve seen it. You don’t need to talk about it or promote it. Just acknowledge it and be grateful.

It used to break my heart to write this last paragraph of the Season Recap. There was such a finality to it. I sometimes cried because it was like a moment of mourning. A gaping hole in my life was about to open and be filled by nothing. Those days are no more. In the Age of the Enlightenment, the good times keep going. The family sticks together in some form or another through the off season. I think we have a game Tuesday night. If I’m overloaded with emotion right now, it’s just because there is good reason to be overloaded with emotion. But the emotion is not sadness at all. It’s pure unfiltered awe. That I get to be the Commissioner of Jewball now for 18 years. To tie up my cleats with you all on Sunday mornings. To share in your simchas. I don’t know….It makes no sense. Guys, I’m just very thankful. I am under no delusions, here. Jewball accentuates and improves every aspect of our lives and I know my role and task is to keep it going and keep us together. I’m on it.

With that, you know the drill. Kick your own ass over the next six months. Set high expectations for yourself and – whether it’s on a journey of self-motivation or through the comradery of Jewball – come back next season better. Come back stronger. Come back quicker. Come back leaner. But – above all – just make sure to come back 😊

The incredible winter season came to its conclusion on 3/22/24 where LH defeated the Ball Tuggers 7-6. This capped a year where Zinn, Oppen and Stats swept the championships, winning Vets Rooks finale, the Jewball league and now Croton. Congrats Jewballers!!

Congratulations to Roll Tide on a DOMINANT season unlike any other. This is a special team and arguably one of the most skilled team Jewball has ever put together, dominating every team in the league this season en route to a 26-6 finals win over BOP.

Whether one game was better than another is a matter of opinion. Some people like violence. Others prefer laughs. Many swear by the back and forth contest, while a contingent live for the rout. However, there are games that preeminently stand out. The details may blur over time, but you won’t find anyone who questions the impact and intensity of the game. The Rooks semi-finals of 2023 – aka Sophomores v. Freshmen – aka Smores Freshies – was such a game. It was objectively – as in factually – as in not a  matter of opinion – the greatest assemblage of Jewball players facing off in a meaningful game EH-VER. Sometimes that’s not enough. Sometimes the finest ingredients thrown into the blazing fire of an on-field cauldron does not yield the gourmet dish the patrons expected. In this case, the dish was worthy of 3 Michelin stars. Not only did it deliver a heavyweight match with evenly distributed haymakers. Not only did it go down to the wire. It went beyond the wire. It expanded and reached the very edges of Jewball reality. It stretched our formative material and fabric to the breaking point. It caused friction and fraying and the bursting of twine and cables resulting in an eruption of rubber pellets. It burned the motherf-ing house down.
While the Vets were doing their Vets slog across the way to see who (spoiler alert) would get their creaky, sprained, and strained butts whipped by the Rooks in the finals, the Rookie game had an electricity that you don’t even attempt to explain or describe. You just say thank you. You look at it from a distance (or perhaps even from within the twirling grandiosity of its midst) and – with a twinge of jealousy if you are on the outside – behold its sheer reverberating magnitude. You reaffirm all your mantras, codes, and principles. You realize with transcendent clarity that THIS is why we do it. You don’t dare speak its name. You just hope to incidentally harness its energy. Carry it forth in a form that manages to fuel and spark something….something unknown and unexpected that is to come – of equal or greater magnitude.
Before we get to the game itself, a warranted ode to the Smores who arrived with the freshest of looks. An ensemble so clean and dapper that perhaps it fulfilled The Oracle’s tafkid in this life (someone check on him):
Verily, how glorious was the appearancee of the Smores, when they came forth from the parking lot, and donned their crimson garments.

Even as the expanded canopy of Salem’s backyard man-cave, was the countenance of Pray.

As the lightning that proceeds from the splendor of Storm, was the countenance of Pray.

As the beautiful blue stripes which adorn the garment of Dobs, was the countenance of Pray.

As the appearance of the flashing red eyes in the cybernetic skull of Legs, was the countenance of Pray.

As the majesty with which Solo stealthily stalked the Rooks, was the countenance of Pray.

As the gleaming amber in the midst of Whiskey’s bottle, was the countenance of Pray.

As the gang green diadem put on the forehead of Feit, was the countenance of Pray.

As the amiable tenderness depicted on the face of Irv, was the countenance of Pray.

As the smoothness of Jack leaping for the rock, was the countenance of Pray.

As E who sat in concealment, to supplicate the presence of the Boz, was the countenance of Pray.

As the archangel DK glowers on the plane of the goal, was the countenance of Pray.

It was this adversary which the brazen Freshies faced. None of them counted amongst us for more than two seasons. None of them having known of Jewball before a Draft, a Chanukah Party,  or TBI. All of them loaded with confidence and a resolve to vociferously announce their arrival.  To proclaim that the era of the Rookies has begun. The age of Dachs who throws left but is always right. The age of Dax, who hugs you like a chiller but cuts you like a killer. The age of Zinn, who scintillates like none before him and is prepared to rewrite all the record books. The age of Oppen, who rushes forth with a fierceness that emanates from the very depths of his being. Add to this those who joined mid-season like Stats and Perla. Add to this our phenomenal 2021 Class (guys who I feel like I’ve known forever) and it’s hard not to think it’s a Rookie’s world and we are just living in it. For now. Things change.
I wish I could give you a blow for blow account of this game (relax, Logan). From across the way I spied Pray and Dach just stone-cold slinging it. Like I said, it was a title fight between titans. I can’t tell you the order, but I can tell you the stats. 1 rushing TD for each QB.  3 Scores for Zinn. 1 score apiece for Storm, DK, and Solo. I know there was some controversial calls. What else is new? I know it was a tie when the clock ran out and it was too late for college OT. What else is new? I’m proud that we didn’t keep playing. Didn’t force people to stay. Didn’t bring in replacements from other teams. Didn’t have anyone leave in an ambulance. The teams walked off the field and regrouped for another day.
That day came three weeks later. Last Sunday – after Week 20 and the League semis – Week 19 was completed. It was the same drag out grudge match that was left incomplete in the regular season. Back and forth stops. Just a pure clash of talent and passion. The Sophomores did score first with about 10 minutes left in the OT. Pray to Legs crossing over the middle. But it was called back by Dax who thought he had the sack. Call was respected. On the next drive – on a 4th and goal from the 20, Dachs finds Rook in the back corner of the endzone. Beautiful catch by Rook. Magnificent throw by Dachs. Freshies take the lead. And they held it. Pray had a chance to tie, but his receivers were not up to the challenge. I’m going on and on here with the superlatives but Zinn said it best on Week 19 Sunday. It was (perhaps) the best football game anyone has ever played in under the Jewball banner. I have one more Recap to write in the coming weeks, but I’ll allow myself to reflect quickly how proud I am to call both the Sophomores and the Freshmen Jewball Rookies. We are doing something so right. BH. Captain of the Freshies….3 scores and being a 21 year old leader and believer in what we are trying to do here. Shows up to everything. Brings positive energy to everything. We – all of us – are so happy you are here, Roy. Jewball to you.
And this is the point I will end with. I know the Sophomores felt robbed. Rightly so. They worked their asses off and they looked really good doing it. I would argue they were the better team (which is a compliment to the Freshmen for beating them). It always sucks to lose. I’m sure they wanted one more game and to be given the chance to wipe the floor with Yaron and his (modified) Juniors. BUT – as we discussed when Zinn questioned the need to continue the Week 19 game – we have our traditions. Each year – for 17 years – as often as we can – we crown a team winner of Vets Rooks (last year we had a tie and a Rook win…so Rooks get the edge). The Rooks won this year. The Rooks destroyed this year. It’s kind of hard to digest what I’m about to say – but it didn’t really matter which Rook team beat the Vets. The Sophomores and Freshmen (in this moment in time – and it is very much subject to change) are one. This is our greatest virtue. I see on the chat sometimes we forget it. Yes, we have Leagues. Yes, we have Vets Rooks. Competition is great. And for good competition, you need division. You need tribalism. But permeating through that division and tribalism – as paradoxical as this will sound – is a oneness. Tapping into that delicate nuance lies our secret.
Which brings me finally to what was actually the best game of the season. It was last Thursday night at Greis Park. Jewball v. Gumbas. Personally, I think Gumbas are an awesome football team. I respect the hell out of the way they play, the way they carry themselves. They play super hard. They are super nice and friendly. I just think they are excellent. And I’ve watched our teams struggle mightily against them over the past few years. Last Thursday night, with Rook and Zada hanging with me on the sidelines, I watched a Jewball spectacle that was truly like nothing I’ve ever witnessed. Yes, we won. Yes, Yaron did that thing where he plays like a virtuoso and doesn’t flush it all away with confounding decisions. Yes, Prime battled through pain like a warrior. And Zinn went full superstar. Stats tracked guys down who were blazing fast. Oppen pulled flags like a man possessed. O. Pray. Daveo….all did incredible, clutch things. I almost wish it was a game of ours because it is recap-worthy. BUT…I bring it up because I watched it less than 3 days before the Vets Rooks Championship. I watched a team playing together against a superior opponent, and just shocking them with an otherworldly chemistry and an almost tangible commitment to team. I got you. I will pick you up. I will not let you down. They were one. Two Seniors, Two Juniors, a Sophomore, and two Freshies. One.

A PJ’s perspective….
It’s hard to write the week 20 recap. To be honest I tried avoided doing this for many reasons. Time, TBI, work, and life. But the real reason is that another season is in the books. Jordan will cover postseason and end of the year cap. But week 20 marks the end of football that is played as a brotherhood. Stats might count but battling with your Jewball brothers without leagues is what counts the most. It’s like the Marvin Gaye song lyrics
“Whats happening brother?”Can’t find no work, can’t find no job, my friend
Money is tighter than it’s ever been
Say, man, I just don’t understand
What’s going on across this land
Ah, what’s happening, brother?
Ay, what’s happening? What’s happening my man? Woo
Are they still gettin’ down where we used to go and dance?
Will our ball club win the pennant?
Do you think they have a chance?
And tell me, friend, how in the world have you been?
Tell me what’s out and I want to know what’s in
What’s the deal man, what’s happening
What’s happening, brother?

No matter what our lives look like and no matter what is happening in our lives… we know what’s happening on Sunday mornings….we are battling with our brothers…

Week 20 game 1 featured Yaron vs Dachs. This was more of a Vets vs Rooks tuneup than a playoff tuneup to be honest for both QB’s. The other big headline was TD leader, could Storm catch Zinn. Yaron lines up with The Rook, Dax, Storm, Dobs, Steve-O, and Bert. On the other side Dachs lines up with Pray, Zinn, Prime, Zada, Tom, and PJ’s. This was a back and forth game. The Rook had a deep TD to get Yaron on board early. Dachs responded by hitting Zada for a TD. Zinn had an uncharacteristically off game by dropping what would’ve been a TD but Zada bailed him out. Zinn and Storm would both get a TD in this one as well. Both QB’s would trade TD’s and picks but with the game in reach Dachs down by a score but had a chance to tie by hitting a wide open PJ’s but completely missed him and The Rook gets the pick. Yaron would end up hitting Dobs to take a 5-3 win and ice the game. The Rook had 2 TD’s and big time pick to win the Jewball for game 1. Zinn more than likely wrapped up his TD leader title but did allow Storm a very small window to get back in it by dropping out of game 2.

Game 2 would feature Pray vs Perla. Pray lines up with Prime, Spira, Tom, Oppen, Dobs, and PJ’s against Perla, Yaron, Dave-O, Storm, KUT, Sting, and The Rook. This matchup headline was all about the sack leader title. Could Kut catch Oppen. The game starts the not way Perla designed it, quick slant over the middle and Pray picks it off and returns it for a TD. 1-0 to start the game. Perla would respond by hitting The Rook for a TD. Pray would March down the field by hitting a wide open Spira for a big reception and go right back to him for a TD. 2-1 Pray. Perla would answer everytime by hitting Sting to tie it up at 2. Pray would kill the middle of the defense by hitting Tom and PJ’s for like 10 reception each. Drive down and hit prime for a score. Perla throws one to Storm and we’re tied at 3. Pray decided to go back to Spira for another long TD. It’s 4-3. Perla would keep responding hitting Dave-O for a nice TD catch and run. After more back and forth. It’s finally 6-6. Pray last possession and it’s 4th and goal for the game. Pray throws it to the back corner of the endzone over Sting to hit Prime, 3 balls in and the game winner. Miraculous catch and awesome game. Oppen would best Kut 2-1 in the sack matchup. Oppen wins the sack leader. Storm had a solid game but his 2 TD’s on the day were not enough. Zinn is the TD leader. But most importantly Prime, our bother won the Jewball for the final game of the 2022-23 season. Jordan will get us mushy for the end of the year cap. But I wanted to say that I love you all and enjoy every minute of this stuff. Let’s do this again next year and the year after. Get some rest and get inspired for more football.

Maybe it’s because he is actually related to the Commish, but it was the Big O who first saw Jewball as family. For him, it was never just a group of random weekend warriors playing a game on Sunday mornings. He saw the group as brothers. He treated the games as battles. He viewed the time as sacred. It caught on. All these years later, he still brings the most passion. He still shows up even when he absolutely cannot – even in work clothes. No one has stripped on the sidelines more often than O. He still loves everyone who goes by the title Jewballer. After all these years, as if he was waiting for the right moment to fully express his love – he found a way.
As this is the first season of The Enlightenment – an era marked by the full recognition of our bond – Oren has seized the moment and taken on a project which symbolizes our status as friends like family. Because to Oren, not only are Jewballers themselves family, but the relationship extends beyond the players. In this era, whenever a Jewballer brings new life into the world, Oren makes sure the mom knows that her husband is out there Sunday mornings competing, but with a crew that sees him as essential and valuable and respected. Whether it is delivered to the hospital or the home, Oren has, with pure zealous joy, made sure a package arrives expressing the Jewball sentiments in such a special moment. Flowers. Balloons. Stuffed animals. Tangible products of this world assembled in artistic fashion to convey a well wish. Of course they do not conform to those limits. They represent a limitless commitment, dedication, and loyalty. They represent an infinite appreciation and gratitude. They represent a full and sincere heart. They say they are from Jewball – and they are – but they represent the generous nature and awesome soul of our Man of the Year.

Congratulations to all poll nominees and winners!! What an incredible conclusion to the first year of the Enlightenment! Our MVP however is still TBD.. 😉

Offensive Player of the Year: Storm

Defensive Player of the Year: Oppen

Rookie of the Year: Zinn

Most Improved Player: Rook

Comeback Player of the Year: Pray

What got lost in the Zinnsurrection following Vets Rooks as we attempted to hold the line where free speech and settling down meet – was that no one said Vets Rooks isn’t important. In fact, it was Zinn – our Roy Wonder – who came off the field after VR and felt compelled to type that it was the greatest football game many of us have ever played in. Now, let’s not pretend VR is always a great game. They have been exceptional over the past bunch of years. It helps to have really talented Vets and really talented Rooks. Who care about what we are building here. Does the talent and the caring make VR special? Or does VR make the talent and caring special? You can argue either way. How often is a Super Bowl game, with all its preparation, hype, and hope – just a total boring dud? That’s the beauty of sport. When it works – it’s pure magic.
Vets Rooks 2023 worked. It was magic. But let’s get to the games in a minute. Let’s first re-establish what nobody questioned. Vets Rooks was first played in 2006. That’s ten years after Rabin joined Jewball. Five years after I arrived. Two years after we moved the game from Queens to the 5 Towns. One year after B-sh lost his virginity. So it wasn’t some institution from Jewball time immemorial. However, with the exception of Rabin, B-sh, and I who played on that first Vets team, and Klink and BD (and Ike) who played on that first Rooks team….for everyone else here, when they were born into Jewball…..Vets Rooks was there waiting for them. At the end of every season it was announced and played. When times were good, it was cause for much excitement. Icing on the Jewball cake. When times were bad, it was an excuse to get a game in as the weather started to get better, even though the season itself was spottily played at best. Like Singer always says….There is something about Vets Rooks. It is ingrained in our memories as some kind of pre-cognitive familiar. To paraphrase from the Song of Songs, it is stamped like an emblem on our hearts. It is our security blanket by way of tapestry. Klink and Prime said it quite simply and eloquently – it means something to us. Listen, we live in a time where there are myriad attempts to “make something happen.” A special month. A banner day. An epic event. The hope is always by the producers that it catches on. Goes viral. And then catches on to the point where it grows and proliferates and becomes something much bigger than the idea. Vets Rooks was originally just a way to spice up the end of a pretty spicy season. 2006 was prime time Golden Age. Woodmere Middle was ours. The soccer guys were still slithering in the primeval sludge. The sun was shining on us. And the BD Klink crew seemed to be a limitless fount of kids who loved football and vodka. So the game was played. Oldish vs. High. Vets got smoked.  And the next year it was played again. And then again in 2008. To my shock and chagrin – Klink and BD got older. They were now Vets. And just like that me and those Golden Agers were were playing against Zez and PJs and O and the rest of the Renaissance. And I remember many of those games. They stand out. They pop. Why? Because it was working. Vets Rooks was becoming something more than the kernel of an idea. It was something that we tried to make happen….and it was in actuality happening. It was in fact expanding and taking on a life of its own. And it became a right of passage. And it become our holiday. It became a holy day. Took on minhagim and segulas and all sorts of mystical elements. Because in my mind….Klink is a Rook forever, like Zez, like Mighty, and Steveo, PJs, and Daveo and Kut etc. They just got here. They just came down all doofy and backwards and confused. And we are the Vets trying to crush them. But who is “we”? I look around in my daze of pride and content and it’s a blur. There is fog surrounding everyone on the field. Because the faces are for a moment unrecognizable. Is that Joey and Marino and Hands trying to figure out a way to slow down the newbies? Of course it is. But it can’t be. Because….they retired, right? No. Maybe. Wait. “We” is…..how is that possible….Klink, Zez, Mighty, Steveo, PJs…..These are not rookies? These are not some kids I just met with their young legs and big egos? These are my closest friends for a decade? And we are weathered. And relatively old. And we have injuries that kinda don’t go away. But we are still together. Because of Jewball. Because of Vet Rooks. And we look across the field and the faces metamorphose while at the same time coming into focus. What was once our faces are now all these new stunning, glowing faces…
They are the faces of our future but also somehow of our past. Dachs is a rookie, but there was no Jewball before Dachs. Solo is a sophomore, but there was no Jewball before Solo. Beast is a Junior but there was no Jewball before Beast. The seniors have seen it all happen right in front of their eyes and they understand exactly what I’m talking about; we feel a connection to something much much larger than ourselves – and we know there was Jewball well before us. This is Vets Rooks. It is bracha to be a Rook. It is a bigger bracha to be a Vet. It is the biggest bracha to be a Vet for a long long time. May we all stick with each other and this game and it all represents  – for life.
As Sophomores v. Freshmen – presumably a game for the ages – is still without resolution, we will save that recap for another day.
The Seniors (aka the real Vets) were excited about this one. A chance to play together – guys who have been battling together for at least 10 years. So much history. So much love. Really, like brothers. You don’t last 10 years in any league without being really committed and picking up a lot of  tricks. The Juniors (yes, our fellow Vets) were a formidable adversary, lead by Yaron at QB, and featuring Beast, MK, Zada, Tom, Prime, Sam and Gronk. Logan, Goldberg and Vegh were eligible, but could not make it. Tabak also bowed out to be a good friend to Vegh and make the bris (Mazal Tov, again). With Tabak’s exit – Gronk stepped in (not sure if he would have jumped in anyway), but by the old Vets and the new…..Gronk was a revelation that day. Combined with the non-trashy Yaron, the Seniors needed to really play a near perfect game. Rabin – the Vets of Vets – needed to be sharp. Instead, he wasn’t terrible. But not much more than that.
The game started really promisingly for the Vets. First play of the game is a trick play. Screen to Gronk who throws a dime back to Yaron. Daveo runs interference and Yaron bobbles the thing away into Steveo’s arms. Steveo – the hero of many Vets Rooks past – gets to the 1. Seniors are poised to stomp on the Juniors. And just fail, fail, fail, fail. An ominous sign. Does not bode well.
Prime scored first. A classic Prime score. Short out to the right side. A failure by 3 Vets to pull the flag….and there he is in end zone. 1-0 Juniors. The next score was Gronk on another silly Senior moment. Brilliant pass down the left hash with nice coverage by Steveo, BUT…the pass is completed and Steveo doesn’t know where the endzone is….so Gronk walks in. Ouch. 2-0 Juniors.
Seniors didn’t break. Jordan tips a ball to Mighty for the pick. Rabin to Jordan – an old reliable combination – was on display again to pick up some big yards and the scoring was capped by Mighty and Singer. The game was tied at the half. But the second half opened with a back breaker. An errant throw picked by Zada (3 on the day – Rabin threw 4 of em over all) turned into a P6. The Seniors would  ever grab a lead. Worse….Yaron topped his earlier throw to Gronk by firing another heat-seeker into the Matt Stafford doppelganger for a TD and the lead was stretched to 2.
With 15 minutes left, Rabin and Jordan hooked up for their 1,672nd TD together, with Singer lead blocking and Jordan continuing his Teflon day. 4-3 with 10 minutes left. The defense locked in and Rabin had a final chance to put the game into OT. From the 1. That’s called symmetry. And it would prove true. Yaron leaps and bats down a pass meant for Singer. Seniors fail. Juniors move on to represent the Vets in the championship. Go Juniors!!!
Yaron was excellent, but without Gronk the Seniors win that game. No one intimidates Rabin like Gronk Gronk does to Rabin’s head what Rabin does to other people’s asses. He gets deep in there. Rabin was just scared all day. Plus the two scores. Now show up for the championship and show these Rooks how we do.
Here ends Week 19 Recap part 1.