Courtesy of Avi Spira
This recounting of history and memory of Jewball is a bit like the Jewish Oral Law (absent the Divine word), where statements of recollection will likely be challenged, embellished, clarified, updated and refuted.
That being said, the goal of being right on a personal level stands directly in the path of gathering a collective history from those who took part in the earliest days of what is now known as Jewball. Therefore, all who were present, or have learned from the teachings of those present are welcome to add, correct, question and clarify this accounting.
I recall hearing of a football game in Queens back while I was in college (1996 – 1999), and that Jeff & Adam Eis were connected to such a game. I had played poker with Adam and, on occasion Jeff, while in college and I was curious and envious about football, but did not receive an invite and also was busy with other endeavors on Sunday mornings, so I did not pursue.
Once I got married in November of 2000 and moved into an apartment in Great Neck (did I ever leave?), the opportunity to play football on Sunday morning became an aspiration and a goal, though one not to be recognized for another year.
In spring of 2001, I linked up with a bunch of friends to play bar league softball in Oceanside, LI. Four key takeaways from that league:
– The Eis Brothers had a team in that league.
– We were pretty good.
– The Sigman Brothers played and ran the team.
– David Sokal, our catcher, took every opportunity to cause a collision at home plate.
Fall 2001 meant no more softball on Sunday mornings and then an invite to play Sunday AM football in late fall/early winter. The invite was likely because of a rotation out of Jeff Eis-age players, who moved to Riverdale and other hot spots for young, married MO couples. But I do not recall the exact mechanics. The game had no name and no cache (no Jewball and no Whatsapp Chat that has more daily activity than all of Twitter) other than being a steady football game.
The game was in Corona Park in Flushing, NY, down the road down from the NY Hall of Science and adjacent to Terrace on the Park – a popular Orthodox Jewish wedding venue. I have heard rumors that Terrace on the Park is known to have a special “segulah” (divine protection or blessing) that flows directly from the Sunday morning football game. There are those who say that the second through fifth (and maybe sixth, if loosely interpreted) blessings recited under the wedding canopy at Jewish weddings are actually manifestations of Jewball (e.g., “Blessed are you oh L-rd… who fashions our cosmic potential [as Jewballers];” “Blessed are you of L-rd… you have planted within us your creative potential and given us the means that we may perpetually flourish [as Jewballers]”), though no rabbinical authority has come forward to confirm this on the record. We played near the shadow of the hall where many have been wed, or as I like to think, that we provided solace and entertainment to many, many grooms-to-be as their future brides and parents looked around the wedding hall making all those oh-so-important decisions about where and how Lexus-money would be spent over the course of a six hour event of a lifetime… and all those guys were thinking was, “That looks like a great football game – I wish that I was out there balling out.” One day, my dear chussin, one day… maybe.
These were the main cast of characters that I recall that were out there on Sunday morning entertaining our poor, entrapped groom up on the top floor of Terrace on the Park: David Sokal, Rabin Rachmani, the Sigman Brothers, Kenny Feldhammer, Bradley Burfas, Yakir Wachstock were all regulars. It was a word-of-mouth, show-up game. Fields were laid out as best as possible, orange cones marking out of bounds were placed for effect, but lines were not symmetrical down the entirety of the sideline and the length and shape of fields would vary from week to week (parallelograms, trapezoids and maybe a rhombus, if you please). Games were fun and friendly, but no less competitive as a result – these guys played to win. Make no mistake, the age-old Jewish art of argumentation was employed by participants – with doctors, ironically, usually jumping into the fray well before the lawyers and being the last to let go.
Week-to-week fluctuations, especially weather related, were an issue as was the presence of two evenly matched quarterbacks. Kenny Feldhammer was a consistent performer, with intelligent decision making skills, reliable accuracy, a cool head and but more of a Chad Pennington arm and pocket mobility. You were always in good hands with Kenny. Brad Berfas and Brian Sigman were solid QBs with slightly better arms, but not as consistent – they could be spectacular, solid or slightly off. Rabin was always game to stand in and play QB – and brought a feast or famine quality to output. Unpredictable scrambling ability, an OK arm, and the ability to make big plays at the most crucial times. Or he was a train wreck. No matter how he was playing, he never lacked for confidence or swagger, which meant you always had a chance to score.
As you might imagine, cold, rain and snow would reduce the number of people showing up. And as you might imagine, back in the stone ages, there was no real way to communicate with a large number of people, so one less-than-perfect weather days you showed up and prayed that people would be there (assuming you were one of those people who were showing up regardless of the weather). When we had more people we would play with an offensive and defensive line, rush on “two” and one blitz per four downs. More often, though, we played with receivers only; when we had an odd number of players we played with an automatic quarterback and the defense would count to “five dead.” Sometime in the middle of the winter, when the field iced over, or a heavy snow would make the field unplayable, or the defrosting would leave the field a muddy mess, the season was suspended or called off. There were competing soccer and softball games that started up in the spring. We generally were there earlier than the soccer games and we were usually fine being very deep in the outfield. However, once league games started and there were actual permits issued to those teams we were pushed over or off the field.
As big of an impact that the weather had on the game, migration and kids were even more impactful. The Sigmans moved to the 5T and kids entered into the equation, which meant that spring and softball stayed, but we lost participants for football. Other OGs moved to NYC or Riverdale. That is when the next step in recruitment began. I picked up two unlikely stalwarts – Ed Shirazian, a Persian blur from Great Neck with the young legs of a collegian. He was basically uncoverable, but he would save his defender every now and then by dropping a ball or two, so the game might be closer. You needed to give him six steps off the line to have a chance to cover him. He also hated the short ball because he just LOVED to run and run by people. On the other side was Chuck Frank, a native Alaskan who moved to Queens, NY with his wife, while she did her PhD at SUNY Stonybrook. Chuck had been an engineer laying new roads in the Alaskan forest, had lived off the land for weeks at a time – hunting and fishing for his food – and had biceps the size of some of our heads; a real-life popeye. Chuck also had experience playing actual HS football. The only disadvantage he had was that he was a true linebacker in HS – a position that, unfortunately, was not part of our game so he was not allowed to knock the daylights out of us when we had the ball. Much like David Sokal, who excelled on the line and would have been a brutal opponent in an actual football game, Chuck had to adjust his game to two hand touch… And did so ablely. As strong as he was, he was as nice and gentle of a person as you will meet while competing at high intensity.
Sokal, who never really comprehended that two hand touch wasn’t two hand shove/shoulder block, was a unique force in spite of his limited ability to intake oxygen. Sokes was always there for the big plays, presenting a wide target to QBs and a back that few could get around to break up passes. He also managed to hit people while on offense – throwing his body into the two-hand touch and the body of the person who dared touch him. While only a rumor and never confirmed, Sokes believed that if one of the hands touching him was detached from the defender’s body the touch from the dismembered hand wouldn’t count.
I wish I could take credit for the invitation to Jordan Hiller (the man who reimagined Sunday morning football into Jewball) and Jason Katzenstein, but I think they were recruited by others. I feel like Jason Berg, a legendary gym rat at HAFTR, sportsballer and an able, rangy football player may have made the connection or it may have been Yakir.
Jordan brought quickness and a sense of humor to the game, and his love and enjoyment for the game increased every week, it seems. Probably, it had something to do with watching Jason Katzenstein wing balls down the field. Jason caused problems on many levels. Primarily, his talent was rarely matched at the quarterback position. He was fast as hell, could wing the ball father than nearly anyone could imagine (save for Barton – more on that later), and he was a skilled passer. The only thing that might have been better than Jay’s skill was his belief in his own skill… And Jay’s knowledge that if ever anything went wrong it was his teammate’s fault. In truth, he was usually correct. He was a lefty, would get rushed and would roll hard to his right and then fling the ball the length of the field (against his body’s momentum) and the ball would be perfectly placed and timed for his receiver. It was like playing with/against Michael Vick pre-conviction. He was unbelievable to play with and epically frustrating to play against. It was a good week when we had odd numbers and Jason would play auto-QB. The other option was to stack the other team up by a bit, that team would have to score every time down the field, and then they would have to hope that Jason’s team’s bickering would lead to an eventual implosion. That was pretty much the only shot. It might have been some of Jason’s intensity that pushed Jordan forward to where he is today (maybe inspiration or maybe Jason yelling at Jordan… we’ll never know).
While Jason brought style and panache, Yakir brought hustle and grit, though as an adult, he did not bring his most fearsome attribute. When we were kids back in Great Neck we would play tackle football in the park against random neighborhood kids who thought they would be able to run over some kippah-wearing kids. Yes, this happened in Great Neck and we didn’t drive Porsches to the park, either – those of you who knew Yakir knew he drove the cosmic-opposite of a Porsche, though his car was more legendary than any Porsche ever was. Back to football: Barton was usually there and he would pick the other team apart and knock the heck out of them. Then there was Yakir and his braces. Yakir also loved to throw his weight around – he wasn’t big, but he loved to hit. He didn’t care that he was wearing braces and they would cut his gums and lips. As a result, Yakir would play most of the game, basically every minute after his first hit, spitting blood. It messed with our heads the first time it happened, but he explained what was going on. We never told the other team. It was something special when every other play or so he would hock a blood-filled lugi, casually spit it out and then come to the line to cover his man. Total mind-game (insert a different four letter word for “game” and that’s what the real result was. Legend.
Jay & Bosh are names of some of the guys who were in the trenches frequently over the years. While I don’t recall their specific games well, I remember grinding on the line with them and against them. Anyone that loves to grind on the line, especially with Sokal on the other side, is a special type of man. Jay & Bosh were those type of men.
There were others who came down, some with skills that went well beyond football… Betzalel (Barton) Gersten was a legend of Great Neck and Israel football. He had a powerful and accurate arm, tremendous vision and was highly accurate. His mind for the game was next level – he would look off defenders and drop a ball on a dime. He had an uncanny ability to run just at the right time, and could throw on the run, too. Had he grown up in a different time and place, where 5’10” QBs were not anathema, and where he could play public school ball, he could have played college ball – no doubt. Mentally and physically – he was as tough a guy as you could find. Also, there is no question that he was the best player to show up to a game in a trench coat and shabbos shoes. No need for cleats. The man chose Torah and Israel as his life.
Charlie Harary also came down a couple of times. He played well, but only for a short period of time. It’s unfortunate, because if he continued to play I think he really could have made a name for himself. He would have been HUGE. Like Jordan Hiller HUGE. As you might imagine, great player, great teammate, and we all stopped for a halftime speech that was next level (ok, maybe not – but in retrospect we should have!).
During this period, the game took a couple of major technological steps forward. First, in an attempt to limit fights about if players were/were not out of bounds as a result of haphazard cone placements, where the 50 yard line was (think “the midline of a rhombus” – more on that in a moment), I decided to start coming early to walk off a consistent field with right angles and straight lines. Using consistent step-lengths and counts for measurements, checking and rechecking distances between cones (is the distance from sideline to sideline @ the 50 the same as the front and back of the end zones on each side?) fields got straighter (never perfectly straight, and winds would drive me crazy – destroying my hard work with a short, stiff gust). Out of bounds calls became easier to make (no refs) and we spent less time on the Jewish sport of “in-game litigation,” and more on playing football.
It’s a good time to touch on some of the rules we played with that haven’t been mentioned yet. We played the first down rule of “one first down when you cross the 50 yard line.” The “3 completions” rule was tried I believe, but was nixed pretty quickly. Kickoffs were always thrown off (always out of the end zone by J-Katz). Punts were initially thrown, but J-Katz would always bury the ball on the sideline out of bounds and everyone followed suit. I believe that at a point we all realized that we were wasting our time on punts, trying judge where the ball went out of bounds in the air (an opportunity for in-game litigation), and we just called the punt on either the twenty or from the front of the end zone (depending on field size if I recall correctly). Field size was variable from week to week, depending on number of players (more people larger/fewer people smaller), mud & water patches, etc. Offensive and Defensive line + tight end, along with auto-Q was also based on how many people showed up.
Once, we had an away game in Riverdale. One winter morning, too few people showed up to have a real game (maybe 5 or 6 people) and I was aware of a game in Riverdale. I reached out to that group and they were open to an inter-borough game. My recollection is that they had the home field advantage – we had to travel, they set up the field and the rules – and they won. I don’t think there was a rematch.
One of the main reasons why we didn’t have a rematch is one of the biggest technological leaps in Jewball. For those of you who weren’t using computers in 2002, post-Y2K the top of the line data transfer standard was a “T-1 line.” Commercial real estate buildings would boast about having T-1 internet speeds and would use it as a selling point to data-savvy corporations. What were the transfer rates on a T-1 line? 1.5Mbps or 30x 56.6dial up speeds. A T-1 line is also 15 times slower than your broken down cellphone, which has data transfer speeds of 21 Mbps. In spite of archaic internet speeds, and Stone Age user interfaces, we could sort through all the spam offering us Nigerian banking options, penis enlargement solutions and all the free porn you could imagine and get to email. So we started a group email so we could confirm numbers for games.
Prior to this group email there was no commitment to coming on Sunday mornings – if you woke up and didn’t feel like coming you didn’t come. If you woke up and thought that other people weren’t coming and the game would be a one-on-one with an auto-QB you didn’t come. If the weather wasn’t great or you were worried about the field being a mess you didn’t come. The email chain created commitment and confidence that the game was on. It also allowed for night-before calls in the case of rain, ultra-heavy snow, etc. so that you didn’t show up when no one else was coming.
Email allowed us to recruit new players who were brought into the fold quickly, we could invite new people to play without ever having met them, and more. In short, we had a game pretty much every week. SnowBowls (not always so simple, because field conditions could be messy) and rain games (so long as fields were playable) were just fine for the die-hards and there were plenty of us. We played in freezing weather the same as we played in perfect football temps.
…Which leads to my retirement from Jewball. On a day when the field was frozen, cleats barely bit into the ground, but the game was epic, I had a moment that is a mental NFT. I can feel the moment and replay it in my mind. On a long throw, I was running hard and turned my body to adjust to the ball and jump for it. As I did, my feet barely crossed and the toe of my left cleat tapped the heel of my right cleat causing me to lose my balance just a little as I jumped, falling backwards. I missed the ball and as my body and back hit the ground the back of my head whipped back and hit the ground hard. Like a good Jewballer, I said nothing and played through. Like a good Jewballer, I said nothing to anyone (especially to the wife!) about the headache and the nausea I experienced over the next couple of days. It wasn’t terrible, but it was a concussion and I was planning on attending law school in the fall.
I had a lot of work in law school, but I was also scared about long term injuries. We all saw Wayne Chrebet… And while JKatz is NOT Chad Pennington, and Sokal is not Troy Polamalu (because of rules, not because of desire, demeanor or playing style), and I wasn’t in real danger from players, I was ready to reduce my risk.
In fall 2003, I started spending Sunday mornings playing basketball in a gym in Kings Point with another group of legends, including NSHA’s Ivan Kaufman, but that’s for another day. My Sunday morning football days were over.
Jordan recently reminded me of my “arrogance”, especially in 2002. Chuck (my native-Alaskan buddy) had got me into the gym for the first time in my life. Powerhouse Gym in Flushing, Queens had a ton of steroid-juicing types, had guest appearances from LL Cool J (I saw him there lifting – he was jacked) and my scrawny-self. Chuck had me lifting for 30 – 45 minutes and then doing 30 – 45 minutes of cardio four to five days a week. I have never been stronger or in better shape (and that includes when I have completed half-ironman races). There was nothing more fun than playing ball with power, endurance, speed and confidence. Every ball can be caught and you can run forever. I miss those days – and I miss Chuck, who now lives on Victoria Island, British Columbia.
I am now a Bike4Chai guy, I have completed 3 half-ironman triathlons (slowly), play basketball once a week, am heading back to the gym to lift and just started doing yoga once a week. I stay active and physical, but Sunday morning football is still a special time and place for me.
I play every now and then in a turkey bowl, but it’s not the same… The repetition of playing every week allows for sharp movements, eliminates bobbles and bumbles, and the game I play now, every now and then, just isn’t crisp. Knowing what it could be and should be makes it that much harder to play and watch. I sometimes come back from a game and wish I hadn’t played – memories of what was haunting what my game is.
But I am comforted knowing that Jewball lives on in an evolved state… Because it means there is always time to return to the game – on a turf field with plenty of cushioning.