I don’t remember my first Jewball catch or my first game. My memory jumps straight from standing on the sidelines watching guys like Spira and Rabin play the game and hoping to get in (which I did not) to the following: Jason Katzenstein is my QB. He wasn’t a big play caller. Of the Gronk Get-Open school of offensive coordination. I lined up on the outside right. On hike, moved as fast as I could up the sideline and then cut left. Got a step on my defender, made eye contact with JK, and I knew the ball was coming my way. I accelerated toward the middle of the field. Jason let it fly. He was also of the Yaron Throw-As-Hellaciously-Hard-As-You-Can-Every-Time school of passers. The ball came in a little high and my body knew by then to jump and let it hit you squarely in the chest while airborne. The impact came and the ball stuck. A few steps later someone two-hand-touched me. A few people said nice catch. I jogged back to the huddle. And that was it. The ball hit. The dopamine hit. I understood that I could do this. That whatever that was, I would continue to do it. It’s a feeling we are all familiar with. It’s when you know you belong on a football field. It’s the moment something inside – and not everyone has it – most do not – even the most talented of players – something inside tells you…I can become addicted to this shit. This shit will haunt my daydreams while I am in class, in the bathroom, at work, at shul, driving, or wherever else I find myself in the dreary time spent between Sundays. For the next 24 years, if a Jewball game was being played, I’d say 95% chance I was there.
I remember my first catch of this season. Even though I played a few games at the end of last season, I was still tentative due to the torn bicep. Not sure how it was healing. Not sure if it would tear again doing the same things in the same ways with the same intensity. But I came out for pre-season at Woodmere Middle School. Was a bright day with a low sun and few clouds. I wasn’t sure if I was going to get in. Maybe just watch the boys and get in the mental reps. We were playing some kind of round-robin format that I came up with but that made no sense and everyone had to explain to me how it actually worked (typical), and Dachs was throwing on the near field. I remember everyone dropping every beautiful pass he threw (which has been the story of his season) and a frustrated Dachs is hard to endure. So – Jewball Ego Activated – I jumped in. Maybe this 46 year old with a new bicep could show them how it’s done. This is how the brain of the addict works. A few sets later, after a few more drops by those not named J, Dachs calls my number. Right side, streak about 20 yards and hit the corner just beyond the first down marker. Ball will be on the outside, between me and the sideline. And so I streaked. And so I hit the corner. And so I looked back. Directly into the blazing sun. A blinding orb in the sky that blankets everything in white. But within the white flashes, the shadow of a projectile. So I know the ball was thrown. All that is left to do is not fuck up. So, based on the flash of the shadow against the white blanket…my 24 years of experience make a prediction. Some sort of calculation that none of us could ever explain other than calling it a feel. My hands shoot out into a space to the right above my head…and there is planted a football. A catch. Prime is on the sidelines. He says “That’s my Commish!” And in that moment there is no difference between the 22 year old and the 46 year old. I’m not a drugs guy (but if you are….call me), but I presume what makes a high a high is something permanent and reliable. The addictiveness is due to the chemical consistency. You know how it’s gonna go. Jewball has been that for me for all this time. An addiction. A consistently reliable high. And you wonder why it took me so long to get to writing this…and the answer is….withdrawal is a bitch.
I jumped over to the other field where Pray was throwing. Maybe against Perla. Although I did not have a catch there, at one point, Ice Man did, and I was on defense. He was running toward me and instead of running me over which he surely could have done (aka The Pray), he tried to evade me with his much quicker quickness. My options were freeze and do nothing since nothing could be done. Or dive at him, close my eyes, stretch out a hand to where his flag might be, and see what happens. With peak pre-season flexibility, energy and optimism engaged, I went with Option B. Full out extension dive. And guess what? I heard a pop. And not that bad kind. Flag in hand, I was sprawled on the turf. The rare Jewball moment of disbelief. Where even you are impressed with you. And I got to pretend I did it all on purpose. Think Beast said, “Fuccckkk. That was some Spider Man shit.” I realize I’m making this about me, so far, but I’m doing it because that Pre-Season game and those two moments, were a stark reminder (then and now) that Jewball has always been about taking a chance, reaching out, and seeing where things go. Now, looking back – looking back on this season – looking back on it all – it’s been about reaching out in faith the whole time. But not only that – that’s too easy. Too mundane. Everything is technically about faith. You can hear about emunah and bitachon (faith and belief) in every class, sermon, Disney movie (including Marvel and Star Wars), half-time speech, and country song. Jewball has been so much more than that. Jewball has been faith rewarded. Faith alone wouldn’t have gotten us to where we are. People place their faith in all sorts of things. Faith that their prayers will be answered. Faith that their team will win. Faith that their troubles will dissipate. Faith in people. A kid will come around. A friend will forgive. A boss will recognize hard work. And sometimes that object of faith keeps stingily demanding more, and stretching its limits, and testing its boundaries, and cruelly stressing it to no foreseeable end. In this life, so many times we reach out our hands in perfect faith…and we hope that the ball hits or the flag pops….and it just doesn’t. But Jewball has been – for as long as I’ve know it – the thing that does not let you down. And even when it lets you down, it’s in a way that somehow also picks you up. It is demanding, but never in a cold and distant way. It demands with an invisible hand behind you, gently pushing, a hand in front gripping your jersey…pulling you forward. It never forces you to ask yourself – is this worth it? The more you put in, the more you got out. This whole enterprise has been that. I type this in my office while wearing a Jewball hoodie. With a beautiful logo that Laura Curran called the Nassa County Lion when she came to our Draft Party and hit on PJs. That happened. Below the lion it says “Est Early to Mid 90’s” which is an inside joke from an episode of Three Balls In – our podcast – when the founder of Jewball – Alan Milchman (aka The Oracle) – someone we never met but respect and revere – was interviewed. That happened. Our faith has been rewarded. Not tenfold. Not some random multiple that would of course be arbitrary but suggest a vast and profitable return on investment. I don’t see it that way. We have shown and continue to show extraordinary faith. In our institution. In each other. In our principles. And in our God – the Rewarder of Faith (and, yes, we will have to get to Him in this final recap). Everything we have built was built by faithful performance – not expecting reward – not for reward – but kinda being sure it was out there, just waiting to be gifted and granted.
I didn’t wear the Jewball hoodie today because I was planning on typing a recap. I didn’t wear this today because I thought I’d see a Jewballer. I wore it because I see it in my closet and it make my heart full. Yesterday I wore the black one. I happened to have seen Daveo and Ike. That’s a Jewball life. How easy it has been to put in over these twenty-five years KNOWING how much you get out.
As fate would have it, no season has proved and reinforced the theme of faith rewarded more than this past one – my final season as Commissioner. From that first day of pre-season where I reached out with hope and faith in the physical realm…until now – where I know that with the last word of this recap – I will need to find a new way to give, to put in, to demonstrate my faith.
It was a bright sun-drenched late-summer morning in the city of Toronto. On a bench in the shadow of the Rogers Centre, overlooking a glimmering Lake Ontario – I stared at some notes I had scribbled on the plane ride over. Sean Manaea and his wife were out for a walk and generously agreed to take a picture with a guy who looked anxious and homeless. That guy was me. My homeless look was par for the course. The anxiety was due to the pressing business at hand. The morning was dedicated to fixing – too harsh – let’s call it improving – Leagues. Oh, Leagues, how you have tantalized us over the past five Jewball seasons. You are a black-hearted seductress. A temptation filled with delicious, empty calories, but who can resist you? With your unlabeled-fueled Draft Parties, your sharp jersey designs, your draw of top talent, your intrigue and flair for the dramatic? Is there Jewball without Leagues? Have we permanently attached ourselves to the product like an addict to the drug? I think and would swear the answer is yes we have. There is no going back. We have tasted of and feasted on the forbidden fruit. Leagues are now integral to who we are. BUT – after 4 seasons of good results – they needed a change. Why? Because a Commissioner needs to know when to ignore a problem and when to address it. Leagues needed a refresher. And so….there I was, pacing the plaza outside the Toronto Aquarium, just down the steps from where the Mets – fighting for a playoff spot – would soon take on the Blue Jays in a pivotal series. I had five phone calls to make.
I can’t say I remember the order of the calls, but I got through to Kut, Ernie, Prime, Steveo, and the Rook. I made my pitch. I told them Leagues needed a reboot. Captains who would approach the program with fresh eyes and a fresh attitude. A Draft that would all of a sudden present new and interesting dynamics. More fodder for TBI. Different, exciting configurations of talent. By far the coolest thing about Leagues has been the teams that have come together. A Captain is somewhat like a comic book writer surveying the collective of stars in the heroes (and villains) gallery; free to mix and match and create an assemblage of awesomeness. But, most importantly, the desire for change was to have teams lead by Captains who represented, both and equally, the brotherhood and competitive spirit of Jewball. Not to say that the Captains beforehand did not do this. They were great. But they were Captains only because of what they could do on the field. Now, they would be chosen based on both skill and….something else. An intangible. My list was short and exclusive. It wasn’t like my years as Shul President where you call numerous people to be Dinner honoree until someone says yes and you tell each of them that they were the only choice. It was these five.
Kut – No one has figured out how to be one of the guys while also universally respected – quite like Kut. A lineman type not playing line who arrived a vagabond after we were great and just before we went Dark. He endured through it all and just kept working at the craft of football and showing up with the most charismatic of auras. Ernie – Literally got his name because he came around the same time as Bert. You can’t be much more sidelined. And Ernie is not one to be sidelined. He’s a star. And do you know how I know this? Because if you are star….you shine. Your shine cannot be denied. Some guys come into Jewball and are given star treatment from the first time they step on the field. Ernie plugged away – invested himself in Jewball – he earned it – and his talents brightened Jewball in every way. Prime – Probably the biggest compliment we ever received was Prime aligning with us. His love for football is undeniable. He is – by far – the most experienced football player in our midst. But there is so much more to him. And he saw in Jewball great football. If he didn’t – it would have been a non-starter. But he also recognized the so-much-more in us. There is nothing like the unexpected synergy between Prime and Jewball. Steveo – I’m actually shivering…just thinking about the enormity of what you bring and have brought to Jewball. Like Ernie and Kut, you arrived unassuming. A long haired skater. Quiet. Intense. Is there football in there? Is there a voice in there? My God….there is so much football in there. There is so much voice in there. Steveo has revolutionized the EXPERIENCE of being a Jewballer. And The Rook – His debut made Steveo’s seem loud and obnoxious. The Rook came in as low key as we have ever seen. And he built himself up and embraced the challenge of becoming a Jewballer. Eventually ending in a nuclear explosion of talent and persona. More about him in a bit. What these five have in common – and the reason they were chosen besides the basic requirement of being good and committed players – is that when you think of them….you feel a spark. Something inside – the part of you that loves Jewball – starts to whirr and hum. Call it the soul’s version of a smile or a some of kind of Jewball electromagnetism. Kut. Ernie. Steveo. Prime. The Rook. They represent the best of us.
They all needed to think about it. Some needed until the next day. All understood the sacrifice. All eventually said yes….because….they were the right people. You don’t want people who want it. You want people who understand that you just do it for Jewball. Because of these new Captains, each team took on a certain personality. Kut’s Carnivores were a fun-loving bunch who could chow down with you at a BBQ, but also eat your heart. The Duck Dynasty was quirky with a friendly exterior, masking the threat just below the surface. The Blunts of Prime were a veteran team, a little too high on themselves. The Reapers were deep and eclectic; a simmering cauldron of football genius. The Gorrilaz were business-like and reflective; humble but transcendentally confident.
But – even though it sometimes feels like it – seasons are not defined by Leagues alone. In my mind at least, seasons are defined by the Rookies. We had been stupidly successful with Rookie classes for the past five seasons. With Singer retiring. Waldo moved. Dax, Irv, and Jack stepping back. There was an argument to be made that the star-power in Jewball was fading. That the talent-level was receding. It was important to add quality players for the 2024 season. But it’s always a crap-shoot in Rookie recruiting. Who will show up? And when they do, will they commit themselves? And if they do, will they get it? And if they get it, will they participate, and produce, and thrive, and become legends like our Captains have? There is only one way to find out. And we call it Week One.
I’m on record as saying that a season is defined by its Rooks. Maybe not thematically, but in terms of organizing it in the catalogue of memory. I remember when Oren brought Yaron and he was a great QB, if a little verbose in the huddle, and it was like tripping over a diamond on the beach. I remember when Yaron brought Pray and I thought he looked like Ivan Drago and I way underestimated the impact he could have – and then he started taking seismic leaps as a player and leader in our game. We remember the first Rookie class of the Revolution – our prime season of rookie hazing. Followed up by the Roll Tide Rooks who dominated every storyline. And last year with the Ross, Starfox, Sherriff, Ice Man, Daxxy, BK Rookies– like the Thunderbolts to Roll Tide’s Avengers. And of course, I remember when Effie joined in 2021.
Coming into this season, we had three players pre-approved – Tommy, Logic, and Justin after quality appearances last season. I took some heat from the likes of Daveo for adding too many Rooks besides that trio. Of course this wasn’t true, but it became a decent third-rate chat shtick. I won’t name names because…you never know…but…the added new blood didn’t exactly take Jewball by storm as Rookies had since the Revolution. Guys who failed to step up this past season, may do so in the future, but the fact is…Tommy came true and showed phenomenal talent whenever on the field, Logic came true and snagged a very well-deserved Roy, and Justin was as devoted and pure as the man that brought him down. One guy that did show a lot of flavor and Jewball grit was BZ, who got hurt early and often, including a broken nose, but he brought it every time he was on the field. The Oppen name aint nothing to eff with. But Jewball knows when something is missing – we feel it in our shared gut – and something was missing. We also know that Jewball is not just about faith, but faith rewarded. Our faith never wavers – even when things seem amiss – and that commitment has always been rewarded. We wait and see. Let it play out. The magic will arrive. So just when we thought the Rookies would not define the season for the first time in a while, a guy named the Rook stepped up to make this season stand out above all others.
It starts with an engagement and a L’Chaim in West Hempstead. Awesome, but been there done that. We’ve had guys get engaged before. We’ve had l’chaims. Shalom zachors. Brisses all day. What we’ve never had was a Jewball wedding. And I don’t want to be Logan and PJs and analyze something I did not witness, but – as I was in Israel with the canceled flights and delayed return – I was zocheh to the pictures and videos sent from the Rook and Jessica’s wedding. Playing football Sunday mornings for years and years…it’s special, it matters, it sets the tone for many many things that have real world implications, but those memories jumble and swirl and eventually fade into dreams and their ghosts. Weddings are seared into the frontal lobe. Partially due to the reverence of the occasion, but also because it is so well documented. Jewball is for life, but the moments from our weddings are frozen in time forever. And in this case, Jewball was not just there, but we took over. I am very jealous of those of you who have the animated images in their heads while I only have second hand nachas. But…as I write this…the images of Ernie singing, the boys drinking, the table posing, Logan lifting Rook from the badekin, Spira dancing, and so on….These are forever moments. And they don’t happen without Jewball. Our football game that isn’t a cult.
This has been recapped and discussed, but I will gloss over it to get to my point. Kut messaged me one day about doing a Sheva Brachos for the Rook. Maybe because I was embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of it myself. Maybe because I was overcompensating for the guilt of missing the wedding. Whatever it was – the second he said it – I knew it was happening and I knew it would be BIG. And – again, previously recapped – ayin sham – it was a night that transcends everything we have ever done. The perfect mix of slassy and holy. Indulgent and DIY. Visceral reality and surreal parody. It was faith rewarded in tangible, edible, physical, and spiritual form. It was God saying I love what you guys are doing…keep it up. But this was not the end, because Jewball is not a place of finite results. Every miracle leads to the next miracle. And, without embarrassing him too much – I cannot risk not appreciating the story of Kagan. The Bartender. While I had to mention the 7B in this season Recap as it was an all-time Jewball highlight, in the end – perhaps it was just meant to lead us to Kagan. Kagan was a Rookie that came in and managed to define this season. Dayenu if he bartended at Rook’s 7B, saw what we had going, and simply felt in his heart that we were something of which he wanted to be a part. Dayenu if he expressed it. That he came down for games. That he played hard in those games. That he eventually brought his brother. That he signed up and backed up and put in the on-the-field work. But Kagan showed, felt, and demonstrated the kind of faith in us that….makes us merit the rewards that we have become accustomed. In many ways, he – much like the Rook – become the fulfillment of their own prophecy. They love and gravitate toward Jewball because they see and believe that it has so much to offer. And it does. But then they manage to give more than they get. They put in even more than they can possibly get out…and by their actions, they create the place that offers so much. And, no, I’m not just talking about the X-Factor daquiri and the drinks on the sideline – I’m talking about Kagan being the kind of ALL IN Jewballer that makes us all feel like…how did we do this before him? Makes me realize – as I constantly do in this League – that we have to keep going because we are still waiting for more pieces to come home and make us whole.
The first few weeks of the season – believe it or not – we were on the grass. Dom got us permits again, but they didn’t start until like Week 5 or 6. During those weeks, we either played both games on the LHS grass or Game 1 on the turf somewhere (like HHS) and then moved over to LHS grass for Game 2. Once we got the turf at LHS, the season settled into a groove and League Games started. The League storylines that stood out were 1.) Would the collection of talent that the Reapers put together find any chemistry – and enough to win games?, and 2.) Would the separation of Prime and Pray – two-time champions together – hurt one more than the other in terms of winning success? The classic Belichick and Brady analysis.
Well, the answers came pretty early on. The Reapers were a force to be reckoned with. Solo was fully bought in – and combining with Oppen to bring a pass rush the likes of which had not been seen in Jewball Leagues since Solo and Munch (with honorable mention to Oppen Legs of course). Feit was back and commanding the huddle; making some brilliant throws. Logic was a revelation – just a through and through football player. Mighty was doing Mighty things; scoring TDs at a furious pace. Goldberg had his healthiest season in a while and was back to producing on both sides of the ball. Steveo was managing all the egos and keeping the tone chiller (chiller/killer). And Ross was running suicides. They won a lot. At first surprisingly, and then expectedly, and then dominantly. But would all that winning translate into a Championship?
As for the Pray/Prime question – It pains me to say that was answered too. The Blunts of Prime got off to a bad start. Then got off to a bad middle. And had an okay end in garbage time. BLOP was just an experiment that may have proved the formula faulty. That assembling a veteran, tough team…and then relying on a superstar to carry every game…is a risk. Though Ice Man has team-carrying talent….it’s hard to win when one player’s dominance is the key to everything. If he has an off game or an under the weather game…well…there goes that. And there went that for BLOP. The Vets did not step up. Drops, miscues, and confusion permeated and prevailed. They racked up losses and the dream died. The Rook’s Gorillaz, which featured Pray, Legs, Zada as its big three….they – on the other hand – were a winning team. A little shaky at times, but found ways – as Pray has done throughout his career. They would eventually face off against Steveo’s Reapers in the finals.
The other two teams in the League, Ernie’s Ducks and Kut’s Carnivores – need to file those two stories into the great, infuriating anthology of sports history’s We’ll Never Know . Sherrif – who was playing incredible ball and was instrumental in some thrilling Carnivore wins – goes down with a hand injury. To lose Sherriff in the middle of a Jewball season…it’s a devastating blow. Much of what I said before about Kagan can be said about Sheriff. He’s that guy. His heart is that heart. He brings so much. We need you, Sherriff. Heal up. Come on back. And when it comes to injuries and the impact they have on your team, Ernie sidled up to Kut and said, “Hold my beer.” BK…done (left distal bicep tendon tear brother!). Tommy done. And, with those two critical players gone – sure we have great talent like Stats to step up and replace – and you can win games, sure…but Ducks were the Cronies II of this season. A team with so much potential but plagued by injuries and malfunctioning alarm clocks.
What might get lost in the narrative of this season – as we discuss injuries that sidelines some of our best and brightest – is that Singer attempted a comeback. I don’t want that to be forgotten. I don’t want anyone to think he just retired. I don’t want anyone to think he walked away after last season. I don’t want anyone to question his commitment and love. He did not walk away from Jewball. It was cruelly stolen from him. And I don’t even know if he is done. But….remember, please – he played this season. He heard the call…and it echoed in his soul and pounded in his heart…and it was loud…LOUD!…and it drowned out the reasonable voice that probably sounds like Yaron telling him to stay away. But the heart wants what it wants. And he tried…he got on the field…and tried. HE RISKED EVERYTHING. Yes, like we all do….but he KNEW….Imagine that!? He KNEW! And yet he stepped onto the field. Because he loves us. He loves you. He loves Jewball that much! So how dare you not play when you don’t KNOW! How dare you not try when you don’t even suspect! Singer KNEW….but he stepped onto that field and said…NO! I will not give this beautiful dream away for free!!! I will it give it away…when you tear it from me! And so it was. This is not the season Singer retired. This is the season where Singer showed us – in heartbreaking, heart rousing fashion – how much we can give.
The Season of Faith continued to unveil itself before us in unexpected ways. A new bowl game was introduced. We played our first Chol Hamoed Sukkot game dubbed the Pitom Bowl with teams decked out in yellow and green. Even with this festive addition, our holidays were not celebrated in their traditional fashions – no Socks or Jesus at the Turkey Bowl, no Sushi at the Jesus Bowl, and no Champagne at the 2025 Bowl. Yes, the games were played, and the competition is all that really matters, but – perhaps the Commish had his eyes on the exit door and let some things slip. I’m recalling Bowl Games in rain, cold, and wind – just being proud we showed up. My tent getting soaked and twisted. I’m recalling Kill and his friends coming out and some old guy trying to kick them off before the old guy was asked if he knew who he was talking to – and the old man relented. As Chanukah was soon after the 7B and it was believed that Jewball had exhausted its natural resources, the annual Chanukah Party was canceled. And much like the canceled Purim Party which took flight only because Jordan canceled it, the Chanukah Party found its way into being due to the hard work of the usual suspects who make sure Jewball is never lacking. Particularly Daveo and E. Our protectors of the realm. Our ambassadors of faith. Kagan showed up with fresh enthusiasm and continued to professionally inebriate us – and in E’s kitchen…RIGHT? was born. Around this time, even more rooks found their way into our fold. Ernie swore by his DJ nephew, and our TNF crew pitched Jewball to a rough around the edges, highly skilled QB named Levinger. Portal and Avenger came into Jewball with a lot of hype and some skepticism. We knew they had the talent. Did they have the disposition? Were they Jewball material? I’ll give that one an Incomplete grade. Over the course of the rest of the season, I do think Avenger warmed up to us by a few degrees. He even signed up as “Avenger” a few times and had probably the greatest overall statistical game in Jewball history. He even smiled once! All good signs. Portal earned his stripes at Vets Rooks by playing straight from the airport and brining it at the Super Bowl BBQ. He celebrated like our brother in the cold. He came into Jewball swearing he would own everyone and earned every Settle Down Rook sticker.
And speaking of Rooks being treated a certain way by the Vets, Vets Rooks was played on Super Bowl Sunday with the new format of Juniors v. Seniors and Freshies v. Smores. A lot of monumental changes this year to the rosters as the Roll Tide Rooks graduated to Smores, and Smores poster boy, Pray, became a Junior along with Legs. With Rabin out for the Seniors, there was some valid controversy as Junior Gronk stepped in to throw for the Seniors. And that made all the difference. The Seniors beat the Goldberg-lead Juniors in one of the more epic games of the season.
ROY Logic Captained the Freshies valiantly and they posed a furious comeback to make it a game against Zinn’s Smores, but Zinn remained undefeated in VR Games. What an awesome sight for Jewball! A Rooks semis featuring Zinn, Dachs, Ice, Avenger, Portal, and an assemblage of young exciting players (also Spira!) who prove that many things grow stale and lose appeal over time, but Jewball is not one of them. In the finals, with Senior legends Singer and Zez present (Singer on the sideline and Zez having flown in from Israel to raise a mere $50,000.00 and playing), the Seniors were hopeful that everything would come together and the honor to the Vets could be restored. But it was a cold day and Rabin went full Raynaud’s. Two completions were thrown on the day, and although the Vet defense held up for a while, Dachs and Zinn would not be kept down for long. Rooks win again and the Vets three year drought is now a four year midbar.
In the other Championship, it was the 1 and 2 seeds squaring up. Reapers v. Gorillaz. PJs and his livestream were on the scene capturing the action for a riveted Jewball audience. In what has been universally accepted as the greatest Championship Game of the League era, the Reapers came out with all the swagger they earned over the course of a dominant season. They went up two scores early and with a Solo Oppen line and talent everywhere….this looked like the dream season for Steveo and his squad. But you can’t count out Pray. Or Yaron and DK. Wait….what? Don’t ask. This is Jewball. Was it gonna end any other way? With Feit about to redeem himself from every Top Guns joke he ever swallowed…on the 4 yard line and about to make it a 2 TD lead over the Gorrilaz with ten minutes to go, he holds the ball a few seconds too long and throws the out to Mighty….which Rook saw coming from a mile away. And a second later Rook was a mile away from every Reaper chasing him in disbelief. The game is tied. The Reapers took the punch and had time and opportunity to recover, but sometimes a P6 from the 2 yard line is not just a swing of points but a premonition of outcomes. And that was the case here. On the next Gorrilaz possession, with only minutes left, Pray, while running for his life to the left, throws across his body to the Rook cutting up the middle of the field – and Rook makes the biggest catch of his life, in the biggest game, and gets his team a Championship and himself a League Finals MVP.
So, we need to talk about MVPs now. The hour is late. Both in terms of the actual hour as I write this as well as the date. I’ll simply start by saying God loves Jewball and it is evident to me in so many ways. And when I say this, I do not mean like He is a fan. I mean…He loves what we have done and bestows undeniable blessings and serendipity upon us. I can only explain the kind of fortune Jewball has met by God loves us. And I don’t think it is unmerited love. I think we do our best to earn it. That said, I have one last MVP to give out. And God hooked me up.
I reserve this space now to talk for a moment about the almost MVPs. Since Jewball is never about one person, and there were some incredible performances this season. I would start with our prior 2 ROYS.
Ice Man is a unique Jewballer. Hard to compare him to anyone in our pantheon of heroes past. He is all in and has takeover level talent, but also seems to keep his distance. He loves Jewball, but he also knows exactly how much of it he can take and stay sane. The fact is this – anything Ice Man shows up to, he brings a warmth and electricity that radiates through the space. He is mentioned here because of the offensive numbers he put up this season. He lead the League in scoring by a lot. He makes the jaw dropping catch. He possesses the breakneck speed. Unfortunately, Prime screwed him. Not by drafting him first round to the Blunts. But by drafting Oren and Jordan in the later rounds. With those two losers on his team, he didn’t stand a chance. Despite his propensity for points, he could not win. But, I will say this as his teammate – the Ice Man who walked off the field in his first game because the team was weak and failing – that guy is gone. I saw the opposite this year. While BLOP kept losing and losing in frustrating ways…the Ice Man kept his chin up and kept punching opponents in the chin. Whether on the chat or in the huddle – he was all LFG. Ice, a most memorable privilege to be on your team this past season.
And we can’t have an MVP conversation without Zinn. I’m told he’s considered the most talented football player in the Jewish leagues world. That this is universally accepted. I can believe that. But – as we will get to in a second – our MVP – is not just about football talent. Which makes it even cooler that Zinn is a candidate every year. Because his football skills wow us on a weekly basis, but – considering the greatness of his game – how cool is it that he is a down to earth, humble, generous, considerate, thoughtful mensch. In an alternate reality, he is a cocky bastard – too prized by the football world to run around and play pick-up with the likes of Jewball. But he shows up for EVERYTHING. He embraces the chaos, the dirtiness, the company of football plebians. We don’t fully understand or appreciate just yet how lucky we are to have a Moshe Zinn in our midst. His football season on the field was a bit uneven due to injuries. He didn’t get to play in as many games as he would have liked to, and he didn’t reach his potential. But of course he made his mark and dominated many games, including leading his team to a VR championship, despite the Vets best efforts to rip off his clothes.
When I said before that God hooked me up with our two MVP finalists, I meant that it came down to – not only two Vets – but two Vets who are very close to my heart.
I’ve written about Kut’s origin many times. He has written about his origin. Coming from out of town, looking for….who knows….a game, a chevra, a reason to get out of the house…he chanced upon Jewball. Over a decade later he’s in my house wiping squirrel guts on my wall. But – again – with the hour late – I just want to talk about this season. Kut had a remarkable season. The best I can remember. He looked healthy, strong, hyper-focused on playing well. He was always an IN BOTH guy, but he’d give you a game and quarter of effort. On a bad day three quarters of a game. This season, he played wire to wire and sideline to sideline. He had excellent defensive numbers, leading the league in sacks, and very good offensive numbers (top ten in receiving TDs). His hands were extremely reliable in 2024-2025. And reliable is really the midah of Kut that makes him an MVP. He is someone the Rooks can look up to in so many ways. I have images of Kut this past season making incredible TD catches, racing down the field with dynamic speed, pursuing QBs with fiendish delight, preparing plates in his apron at the 7B, and being harassed by not-hungry Jews at Game Night. Kut, thank you for finding us, leading us, making us better, setting the right tone for Jewball all these years. From you we learned how to play the game, be reliable, and see it all with equal measures cynicism and reverence.
Kut is a Jewballer. Mighty is not…and that’s why he mattered so much when he joined in the early Renaissance.
MVP does not mean MVP as it does in sports. “Player” means the same thing and “Most” means the same thing, but “Valuable” doesn’t. Where in other Leagues it means most value AS a player, we mean the player who brings most value to the league. Mighty is not the type to want to hear this. He wants it to be limited to between-the-lines value. And….guess what, Mighty? Your numbers this year prove that you bring that. Your are that. You put up all the on-field numbers that matter. You lead your team to the finals. Nothing shows your value more than the VR Semis when the Vets fortunes correlated directly with your presence and absence. But….sorry to have to tell you…you are more than that.
I can only say this because I’m retiring as Commish, but Mighty is someone that I care about what he thinks. And not because he is smart and opinionated. It’s because I see in him someone who joined us on faith. It’s not like Zinn joining us now when we have everything clicking. Mighty joined when we did not have like talent. For some reason he came down – we were strangers – and he developed an unwavering faith in us. No one made more Jewballers retire than Mighty. “I’m not chasing that….” was the common refrain when people turned 30 and saw a kid making cuts that deified logic and reason. Mighty is ruthlessly competitive. But he is not just fiercely committed – thankfully we have plenty who are committed – Mighty is fiercely protective of Jewball. All his fights about integrity and rules…they are and always have been to protect Jewball. He wants it to be and always wanted it to be a place where players of his caliber could thrive. I think he sees that now. And that fills me with pride and gratitude. Even when he left us for big chunks of the season back in the Dark Ages, he kept an eye on us. He came back when he could. I think a lot of this comes from his foundation with pick-up games. And, Mighty, because you elevated us and guided us to this elevated state, you have raised a new generation of players who will know the magic and glory of the pick-up game. So many will go from high school, to Israel, to these Leagues. But there is nothing like a pick-up game where the players infuse it with the competitiveness. Where you learn that it matters, not because you get a trophy or see your name in the stat sheet, but because you dig deep and make it matter. This is what Mighty has taught me over the years. That your physical gifts will only take you so far. It is your mind that gives you the edge. No one in Jewball history has been mentally tougher than Mighty. He sets that standard. To be doing what he is still doing in our game – despite age – despite injury – that is a mind trick. So – let’s make it official: Mighty, my friend, my warrior-brother, my ezer k’negdo of Jewball – you are not just the MVP of this past season, you are the MVP of Jewball so far.
At the end of the underrated J.J. Abrams Star Trek reboot, a fresh-faced Captain Kirk takes over command of the Starship Enterprise from the grizzled veteran Captain Pike. Pike had established a deep, almost symbiotic bond with the Enterprise over his long and storied career. Perhaps Pike and the Enterprise had become synonymous – a man and an enterprise, inseparable in body, spirit, and mission. Pike had steered the crew he was responsible for through innumerable perilous journeys. Oh, the adventures they must have had. You see it in the crags in Pike’s forehead and the smile lines framing his mouth. You see it in the brightness of his eyes when he sits on his throne-like chair at the helm of the bridge. In a clever and (at least to me) moving exchange between the characters when making the transition of power official, Kirk says to Pike, “I relieve you, sir,” and Pike responds, simply…poignantly: “I am relieved.” I would never joke explain, but I will script-elucidate. When you hand over a well-worn responsibility to a new steward, there is a tension. On the one hand, a burden is taken off your shoulders. You have freed up your time, energy, headspace, and yes, sometimes, finances. That is one kind of relief. But, if you care for the responsibility, you feel an ongoing obligation to make sure it is handled and looked after into the future. There is a lingering anxiety and guilt which cannot be shaken, brushed, or even scraped off. However, when the new steward is as committed and caring as the one giving up the role, the retiree can walk away in peace and confidence. And that is an even greater relief. Pray is the right man for this job. And I don’t want to exaggerate it as much as I don’t want to shortchange it. It’s an important job. I can’t say I’ve always felt the same way about being the “Commissioner of Jewball,” but I don’t remember too many days of my Jewball career where it and my fellow Jewballers were not of paramount importance. I remember my first few jobs in the early 2000s, sitting at my desk without much actual work to do (relax, Mighty), but toiling on recaps and stats and emails and teams. I remember calling players as a newlywed in KGH, volunteering to pick them up, and waiting outside apartment buildings on Sunday mornings in the driving rain – hoping the dude who told me he was IN would not flake. Urging people and coaxing them out of their garden apartments, even as the eggs were being scrambled, to make sure we would get a game. I remember walking to the spot beyond the trees in Flushing Meadows Park on an icesheet knowing that the field would certainly be equally frozen, but praying for a miracle. The crazy thing is, it was never hard for me to justify how much I cared. Obviously we start with the gadlus of football. Just the game and the exhilarating feeling of a catch, a touchdown, a pick, a sack, a win. But then it was the power of it bringing people together. I sensed that power very early on. I respected so much the guys who pulled into that parking lot off of 108th Street and laced up in their cars – rain, shine, cold, heat. I never would have imagined this world existed. And with each new person I met – the kind of people willing to show up for Jewball – I realized…these are my people. These are the highest quality people I will ever be fortunate enough to encounter. And it just kept proving itself true. I wanted to be counted amongst them.
We call it the Jewball Tree on the chat. Who brought who…and then who that brought-dude brought. The coolest thing about being a twenty-four-year veteran has been watching it all take root and blossom before my eyes – and bear fruit. I bring Joey to the Silver Age; Joey brings the Golden Age (Klink, BD, Uri, Ike); they bring Dorothy and Judah. Meir brings Munch. Steveo brings Daveo. PJs brings the Renaissance. O brings Yaron. Yaron brings the Revolution. And so on and so on. The football binds us. My job – I came to learn and accept – was to just connect it all. Make it feel cohesive. I guess that’s the role of the recaps – plus showing up and being a constant presence. Rabin the same. And now Spira. Guys who played from 2001 until today….I know them all. Many by name, more by face, all by aura. When you run into them…there is a recognition. We shared Jewball. The talk is always football. “Are you still playing?” They say no. I say yes. They can’t believe it. Sometimes – because there is still a familiarity to it in some physical form – they come back. How cool. Whether they played a season or five seasons…it sticks. Something about it sticks. It feels vital and current and present. It feels palpable and comfortable and eternal. That was how it was for almost 20 years. Dayenu. And then….something else happened about 8 years ago….something I cannot explain nor take credit for. We evolved into an unstoppable force of nature. So…yes…this is an important group and being its Commissioner is an important job.
Pray doesn’t need my advice. I will just give him a bracha. Pray, you understand that you will organize, and make decisions, and coordinate, and randomize, and show up, and play great football. But, what you may not fully understand (yet), is your real job is to connect it all. CONNECT IT ALL. From the Vets who played before you to the Rooks showing up year after year not knowing what the hell they are walking into. To orient us by your steady and constant presence. To both pilot and anchor this starship we call Jewball. To make sure we have a home to return to. May Hashem give you the wisdom and health to carry us for decades to come. And may you see and enjoy the nachas I did over my entire adult life due to Jewball. There is nothing like it. You will undoubtedly get out what you put in, and so much more. And remember, you can always blame the Captains.
Jewball, I know once I leave I leave…and I promise you – I don’t feel anyone owes me anything. The complete opposite. But, you have spoiled me greatly. The fact is, as much as IJWT is a shtick….it means a lot in terms of practical decision making and plan execution. Please trust Pray. For the good of Jewball – it will only work if he is not pulled in a hundred directions, contradicted, and degraded. Is he fat? Yes. But, even if you don’t agree with everything, show him the incredible support, loyalty, and love you showed me. You do that and Jewball will continue to soar. Pray will not let you down. He is the first Jewball Commissioner who is actually good at football. That’s got to mean something.
I’m not going to do a list of thank yous. This isn’t the place. The thank yous and recognitions are well documented throughout the Chronicles. But I do want to be thankful. I am thankful for a lot about Jewball, but I want to focus on two things. The first is something maybe doesn’t get spoken of – probably for good reason. While we all know how unique and exceptional our brotherhood is – and that there is nothing that comes close it – in this final address, I want to just acknowledge something as discreetly as I can without ignoring it – because it means that much to me and us. In a league called Jewball, created by and comprised mostly of orthodox Jewish players, the reverberations in the game and my life brought by our non-Jewish players is so incredibly powerful….I don’t think we can even remotely appreciate it. Forget how unique it is (perhaps unprecedented). Forget how special it is. It is a gift (perhaps beyond all other gifts) that these handful of guys who have – against the odds – joined us, cannot imagine that they have bestowed upon us. Yes, I know it’s not cool to talk about (act like you’ve been there before is usually good policy), but let’s be honest – we are a sheltered bunch. We could live our lives – birthstone to gravestone – never expanding our intimate circle beyond the Sholoms of the world. Never knowing more. Never caring about more. Never expanding our social horizons. I’m not saying that it’s anyone’s fault – but it could happen. Just due to the circumstance and environment as presented. And this is why I am thankful so much for Jewball. Because our lives are so much richer and more meaningful and we’ve learned so much and grown so much and evolved so much – because of a number of brave holy souls who have joined the Jewball family, even if they were not first among the Jewish family.
They say, one must first thank God – and this is never a bad idea. But I wanted to first give the above example of how God has granted us such remarkable blessings. Because we are something extraordinary. We are nostalgia animated. We are faith rewarded.
For many years, Amy and I had a ritual when I left the house Sunday mornings. She would say, “Don’t get hurt!,” and I would respond, “I won’t.” For 24 years, this was mostly true. Three times I came home truly injured. In 24 years! Once at a Turkey Bowl – I tore my index finger tendon on Goldberg’s shirt. A few years later, the plantaris, just after being trucked by Solo, and jumping for a Storm flee-flicker sideline pass. And then the bicep while trying to stop Ernie last season. None of them season-enders. Just enough to tell me I’m human and not David Dunn. So, you might say, Jordan, wow, amazingly long career, but you were zocheh to play Jewball for 24 years because you stayed healthy. You got lucky. I will tell you…I don’t believe that for a second. What I believe with every fiber of my being is that I was zocheh to stay healthy because I was dedicated body and soul to Jewball. The correlation is direct and undeniable. God, thank you for these dreamlike years, these beautiful people, the moments which remain so fresh and fanciful in my mind, I hardly can believe this has been my life. You gave me a tafkid that no one who knew me before 20 would have ever predicted, and You made it so rewarding and pleasant and gave me all the kochos and wisdom I needed when I needed them. Thank you for these Jewballers, who are in many ways precious to me like my own children and I imagine we will grow old together (some of us sooner than others) and the nachas will continue. My hakaras hatov for Jewball is nothing short of infinite and I hope to pay it back by doing right by You (or trying to figure out what right by You means) for the rest of my days.
I started this recap segment by comparing Pray to Chris Pine, so it would only be fair to compare myself now to Brad Pitt. No, I’m not Tyler Durden, but I think there has been an undercurrent of the Fight Club dynamic since I took over this job in 2004. I don’t know why I did it, but there is no question it was done. I signed-off every recap with a letter – “J”. However, in the recaps themselves, I always referred to Jordan. Jordan was placed on a team (but never given a nickname until Beast added the Violent). It was Jordan scored a TD. Jordan yelled at everyone. Jordan blew the game. J was the chronicler. J made the teams. J made the rules despite not knowing them. And, eventually, after doing it for long enough, J earned your trust. And, as Jordan was a Jewballer first and foremost, he was given my trust as well. I trusted that J would handle what needed to be handled and Jordan would be on a team. J would set up the field so Jordan could play on it. J would write the recaps so Jordan could look back and remember. I don’t feel for J. It will be easy for J to move on. He will find an outlet for his authoritarian tendencies elsewhere. He will be happy to have Saturday nights uncomplicated by drop-out drama. He will be freed from making up rules. But Jordan is gonna be a mess. Jordan just wants to play football and spend Sunday mornings with Jewballers. I’m worried about him. I don’t know how he’s going to get by. I worry he will get old very quickly. I am worried he will get slow and creaky and be miserable. I’ve seen what happens when people stop playing. It ain’t pretty. And so, I end this Season Recap – despite its funereal tone and monumental nature – as I would end all of them. Only this time, I need to heed the call more than anyone.
We still have over two months left until Opening Day…so there is time. Get in shape! Eat well! Work out! Make smart decisions. Prioritize your inner Jewballer and do the things that will increase your stamina, endurance, strength and speed! Become the physical specimen you know is just below the surface. You are a Jewballer! You have a depth and grit and ferocity that no one around you can fathom, let alone touch. Look around you. All these dudes who gave up on themselves. F*CK THEM! Kick your own ass so you can kick other people’s asses when the season starts.
If Jewball is our island, if Jewball is our elixir, if Jewball is the thing that will keep us inspired and motivated and dare I say happy….well – it doesn’t come free. It takes work. Put in the work. It’s mental. It’s physical. It’s an all-encompassing philosophy. It’s living by the Jewball code.
As I think I said at the beginning – been too long since this recap started – with my absence, everyone must step up. No excuses. Show up for each other more, sponsor more, recruit more, sign up more, give more, believe more, trust more, have more faith.
Jewball, I’m not done. Eddie played at 51, and Jordan is only 47. I’ll be back with you all next season at some point. But this is J signing off.
See you on the field,
J