Israel is famous for many things. Hills, history, hummus, horrible drivers; the list goes on and on. Its past is littered with fascinating events that have helped shape human history. Israel has a lot to offer to a nice young Jewish boy like myself. It’s too bad baseball is not one of them.
I’m in this country for 3 months. Opening day will come and go without me. Some bad team will get off to a hot start and I won’t particularly care. Someone will do something insane with a glove or a bat or a microphone and it will fly right by my eyes.
Do I miss it? Of course. Do I wish I could sit on my couch and watch MLB Network until my brain turns to soup? Yes. But there’s nothing I can do now except watch highlights on my laptop while my roommates snore next to me.
Only now, after being forcefully divorced from baseball, have I come to realize just how much I love it. As I tour this beautiful country and soak in its natural beauty, baseball still dominates my mind. “Check out that hill” someone will say. “Will Aaron Hill be able to repeat his absurd 2012?” is what my mind wanders to. Today I learned about the father of modern Kabbalah, Rabbi Isaac Loria. Did anyone in the room know who Jeffrey Loria is? Probably not. But I giggled to myself anyway.
I’ll fly home on May 21st having had a life-changing experience. It’s comforting to know that when I return, baseball will be there with opens arms waiting to accept my sorry ass back.