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Jerry Izenberg covered 53 Super Bowls. His memoir covers his Jewish Newark upbringing.
(JTA) — Over the course of an illustrious 72-year career as a newspaper reporter, Jerry Izenberg has just about seen it all.
The longtime columnist for The Star-Ledger in Newark, New Jersey, Izenberg covered the first 53 Super Bowls. He’s been to 58 Kentucky Derbies, not to mention numerous Olympics, World Cups and boxing matches. He considered Muhammad Ali a close personal friend.
But the fiery 92-year-old, who still contributes to the paper as a columnist emeritus from his home in Nevada, doesn’t approve of the term “journalist.” He’s a newspaperman.
He dropped the name of Samuel Pepys, the 17th-century British diarist, as a contrast.
“Every day he took his big diary, and he wrote what he did this day, what he was planning to do later — that’s a journalist,” Izenberg told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “I’m not in my world. I’m in the world of other people trying to interpret and to repeat what values they have or what lack thereof they have.”
Izenberg’s latest story breaks that rule. His 17th book, which hits shelves on Monday, is a memoir about his Jewish upbringing in Newark. Titled “Baseball, Nazis, and Nedick’s Hot Dogs: Growing Up Jewish in the 1930s in Newark,” the memoir centers on Izenberg’s relationship with his father Harry, a World War I veteran and former minor league baseball player who passed on his love of the sport to his son.
Izenberg’s father emigrated to the United States as a child, leaving Lithuania with his family to escape anti-Jewish pogroms. As his sportswriter son recounts it, Harry discovered baseball even before he could speak English.
The Izenbergs’ love of baseball transcended all. When Jerry got his first baseball glove at ten years old, it was a milestone that in his father’s eyes surpassed even his bar mitzvah. (Maybe unsurprisingly, Izenberg would later skip bar mitzvah tutoring to play baseball after school.)
“He had given me a lifetime gift — a simple game and a simple shared love for it,” Izenberg writes in the memoir. “It remains there, bright and shining in memory eighty-three years later. In the soul of my memory, I see our kind of shared love of baseball again. It never fades.”
Jerry Izenberg and his father Harry shared a bond over baseball. (Book cover courtesy of The Sager Group, LLC; photograph courtesy of Jerry Izenberg)
The pair’s passion for baseball was closely intertwined with their Judaism. Growing up in Newark in the 1930s and 40s, Izenberg was a fan of the New York Giants baseball team (which left for San Francisco after the 1957 season). They featured a lineup filled with Jewish players: Harry Danning, Harry Feldman and Sid Gordon.
But in the pantheon of Jewish baseball during Izenberg’s childhood, there was a clear king, and — much to the chagrin of Izenberg’s father — he played in Detroit. Hank Greenberg, the greatest Jewish hitter in baseball history, was at the peak of his Tigers career from 1935-1940, winning two most valuable player awards on his way to the Hall of Fame.
At the Izenbergs’ dinner table, there were only a few select topics that were allowed to be discussed: baseball and the Nazis.
In 1938, Greenberg was chasing all-time great Babe Ruth’s single-season record of 60 home runs, which Ruth had set in 1927 with the Yankees. Greenberg would ultimately reach 58 homers, falling just short of history, while drawing several walks in the season’s final games.
“My dad was convinced that was antisemitism,” Izenberg said. “And I said to him, later on when I got into the business and I knew people, ‘did it ever occur to you that the guys who pitched against him didn’t want to be the guy who threw his 60th home run ball? They’d be linked to him forever.’ My father said, ‘That’s an interesting theory, but you’re full of crap.’”
Of all the anecdotes Izenberg shares of his memories with his father, one non-sports related scene stands out. And it has to do with that second dinner table topic.
One Saturday in 1939, Izenberg and his father went to the Newsreel Theatre in Newark, where audiences gathered to watch news and sports highlights of the week. That day, the theater showed footage of the infamous Madison Square Garden rally held by the German-American Bund, the American Nazi organization.
Izenberg remembers leaving the theater with his father, who was visibly angry. His father talked about how the Nazis — or, as he called them, mamzers, Yiddish slang for “bastards” — had to be stopped.
“I’m an 8-year-old kid, and I say, ‘But dad, they’re in Germany,’” Izenberg recalled. “And he looks at me, he says, ‘They’re not in Germany, they’re here.’ And he was right.” Indeed, following Hitler’s rise to power, Nazi-sympathizers could be seen marching down Newark’s streets.
The move theater incident is illustrated on the book’s cover — and was followed by a frequent father-son ritual: getting hot dogs at the popular chain Nedick’s.
To Izenberg, the virulent antisemitism of his youth — including the Bund, the reemergence of the Ku Klux Klan and the rise of Father Charles Coughlin, the antisemitic “radio priest” — is a corollary for the current state of antisemitism, which is again on the rise in the United States, punctuated, he said, by the 2017 antisemitic white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, which he blames on former President Donald Trump.
Izenberg said he doesn’t believe any law can force people to love or even like one another, but that “you could legislate people and pressure people into keeping their damn mouth shut.”
He went on: “And for 30 years, we had that. We got relief from antisemitism… And then one day in Charlottesville, that son of a bitch gave them the license to say whatever they want. And that was a trigger that lit the flame of antisemitism, which then began to grow all at once. It was always in their minds. But it was not fashionable. They made it fashionable.”
Despite the anti-Jewish sentiment that was ever-present in his youth, Izenberg said he has not faced antisemitism in his journalism career. As a columnist who has covered just about every sport, Izenberg has received his fair share of criticism — most notably having his car windows smashed by two men who did not approve of Izenberg’s defense of Muhammad Ali, when at the height of his career the boxer stirred controversy with his support for the Nation of Islam and his refusal to enlist in the military.
Jerry Izenberg, right, and boxer Muhammad Ali were close personal friends. (The Private Collection of Jerry Izenberg)
Izenberg has written about social issues frequently throughout his career — especially race relations — a tendency that he said is inspired by the value of “tikkun olam,” or repairing the world. It’s an idea he learned from Rabbi Joachim Prinz, the famous activist leader who spoke just before Martin Luther King Jr. at the 1963 March on Washington.
After leaving Nazi Germany, Prinz settled in Newark, on the same block as the Izenbergs. He would become a close family friend, and even offered to help Izenberg prepare for his bar mitzvah, despite the fact that his family belonged to a different synagogue.
Izenberg said he is guided by tikkun olam, “because I know [Prinz would] want me to keep it in the back of my mind, and my father would, too.”
“I’ve always tried not to fix the world — I don’t overrate myself that much — but I could fix the little part of it, the space that I take up,” he added. “And my job was a pathway to that.”
Izenberg’s decades-long career in sports journalism has earned him numerous accolades, including induction into 17 different halls of fame, among them the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame and the National Sportscasters and Sportswriters Association Hall of Fame.
Along the way, he’s worked with and alongside a number of notable journalists, including ESPN reporter Jeremy Schaap, who previously hosted “Classic Sports Reporters,” for which he invited veteran sportswriters like Izenberg on the show to discuss various topics from sports history.
“For someone like me who really treasures that art form, Jerry was one of its master practitioners, and he’s still doing it, which is amazing,” Schaap told JTA.
Schaap hailed the breadth of Izenberg’s career, which he said epitomized the kind of big-city sports columnist that has become increasingly rare in the digital age.
“He’s a maniac, there’s no other way to put it,” Schaap said with a laugh. “All those Super Bowls, all those fights… the energy, the enthusiasm, the passion, all those things, in addition to the skills, makes him unique and has made him unique for decades.”
Schaap added that he and Izenberg shared a sort of unspoken bond over their Jewishness, and that Izenberg has taught Schaap a few Yiddishisms over the years. Izenberg’s tendency to slip Yiddish into his prose is evident in the memoir, from a comical retelling of his bris in the prologue to the frequent frustrated “genug” (“enough”) he heard from his mother as a child.
Ultimately, Izenberg said his parents represent the tachlis — the bottom line — of the memoir, and what he hopes readers take away from it. Izenberg said writing the memoir was cathartic for him, and that it even serves as a sort of love letter to his father.
“We were not, you know, ‘I love you dad,’” Izenberg said. “We were very respectful, but we didn’t express it. I tried to express it in this book. I hope I did.”
The release of Izenberg’s memoir is in no way a sign that the nonagenarian is slowing down. Even though he claims he works less than he used to, Izenberg said he plans to write six columns about next weekend’s Kentucky Derby.
He already has plans for his next few books, too — including a biography of New Jersey’s own Larry Doby, who was the second Black player in the MLB and first in the American League.
“I’ve had a great life, and I’m having a great life, but I ain’t done yet,” Izenberg said.
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The post Jerry Izenberg covered 53 Super Bowls. His memoir covers his Jewish Newark upbringing. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Fetterman Hosts AIPAC, Bondi Survivor in DC Office, Voices Support for ‘Jewish Community and Our Special Ally’
US Sen. John Fetterman (D-PA) gives an interview in his office in the Russell Senate Office Building in Washington, DC, Jan. 18, 2024. Photo: Rod Lamkey / CNP/Sipa USA for NY Post via Reuters Connect
US Sen. John Fetterman (D-PA) welcomed representatives from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) and a survivor of the Bondi Beach massacre to his Washington, DC office on Tuesday, expressing support for the “global Jewish community” and the longstanding strategic partnership between the US and Israel.
“Proudly welcomed AIPAC and a survivor of the Bondi Beach massacre — a living reminder of the global scourge of antisemitism. My voice and vote will always stand with and support the global Jewish community and our special ally,” Fetterman posted on the social media platform X.
Proudly welcomed @AIPAC and a survivor of the Bondi Beach massacre—a living reminder of the global scourge of antisemitism.
My voice and vote will always stand with and support the global Jewish community and our special ally. pic.twitter.com/mz5damSvV9
— U.S. Senator John Fetterman (@SenFettermanPA) February 24, 2026
Fetterman, who has emerged as a prominent pro-Israel voice among Democrats on Capitol Hill, has signaled unwavering support for the Jewish state as its standing among liberal voters and progressive lawmakers has cratered.
The Pennsylvania lawmaker has repeatedly affirmed Israel’s right to defend itself from the Hamas terrorist group in Gaza and has defended the Jewish state from unsubstantiated claims of “genocide.” He also displayed the photos of the hostages captured by Hamas-led terrorists during their Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel in his office, drawing praise from pro-Israel Americans.
Despite his party’s increasing opposition to US military support for Israel, Fetterman has repeatedly vowed to vote in favor of such support for the Jewish state, rankling the progressive wing of the Democratic Party.
“I’m a really strong, unapologetic supporter of Israel and it’s really not going to change for me when [Donald] Trump becomes [president]. My vote and voice is going to follow Israel,” Fetterman said during an interview in December 2024.
One year later, Fetterman lamented the deadly attack on a Hanukkah celebration at Sydney’s Bondi Beach in December that killed 15 people who attended the Jewish gathering and wounded at least 40 others, expressing alarm about the global rise in antisemitism.
“After years of anti-Israel protests in Australia, at least 11 Jews were just gunned down at a Hanukkah event. Tree of Life to 10/07 to Bondi Beach: antisemitism is a rising and deadly global scourge. I stand and grieve with Israel and the Jewish global community,” he posted shortly after the shooting, using a figure based on an early death toll.
Though American lawmakers from both major political parties roundly condemned the Bondi Beach massacre, Fetterman’s decision this week to publicly meet with AIPAC, the premier pro-Israel lobbying group in the US, will likely raise eyebrows among his liberal supporters.
In the two years following the breakout of the Israel-Hamas war, AIPAC’s standing among the Democratic party has plummeted dramatically. In primary races across the country, Democratic hopefuls are being pressed on their connections to AIPAC and facing demands to pledge not to accept funding from the group, which seeks to foster bipartisan support for the US-Israel relationship. The emergence of AIPAC support as a kind of litmus test has raised concerns among Jewish Democrats that the party is becoming increasingly inhospitable to Jews and Zionists.
According to polls, Fetterman is unpopular among Democratic primary voters, making him vulnerable in a primary competition. Numerous progressives in the Keystone State have signaled they are gearing up to challenge Fetterman for the party nomination in 2028.
However, Fetterman maintains shockingly high approval ratings among Republicans and strong approval ratings among independents, potentially injecting a significant degree of uncertainty into the Pennsylvania Senate race if he were to run as an independent in the general election.
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Protesters at ‘Scream 7’ Premiere Call for Film’s Boycott After Former Lead Star Fired for Antisemitic Posts
(L-R) Actress Neve Campbell and director Kevin Williamson at the Paramount Pictures’ SCREAM 7 Los Angeles Premiere held at the Paramount Studios in Los Angeles, CA on Wednesday, Feb. 26, 2026. Photo: Sthanlee B. Mirador/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
Protesters demonstrated outside the “Scream 7” premiere at Paramount Pictures Studios in Los Angeles on Wednesday night to call for the film’s boycott after its former lead star, Melissa Barrera, was fired in 2023 for posting antisemitic and anti-Israel messages on social media.
The protesters, who were supporters of groups including Entertainment Labor for Palestine and Musicians for Palestine, waved Palestinian flags and held signs that criticized Paramount as well as Israel.
“Paramount Whitewashes Genocide,” read one sign held by a demonstrator. Another sign read “Boycott Scream 7 Stand For Free Speech” while a separate one said “LAPD, KKK, IDF It’s All the Same,” referring to the Los Angeles Police Department, the Ku Klux Klan, and the Israel Defense Forces.
“Paramount has a BLACKLIST of actors who criticize Israel,” claimed another sign.
Barrera was set to star in “Scream 7” after leading the fifth and sixth installments of the franchise. In November 2023, however, Spyglass Media Group, which produces the “Scream” film franchise, fired Barrera from reprising her role in the seventh “Scream” movie after the Mexican actress posted on Instagram messages that described Israel as a “colonized” land, suggested the Jewish state controls the media, accused Israel of genocide and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians during the war with Hamas in Gaza, and criticized the United States for sending “billions of dollars to fund a genocide.” She also shared a post about distorting “the Holocaust to boost the Israeli arms industry.”
Spyglass Media Group said in a statement at the time that it had “zero tolerance for antisemitism or the incitement of hate in any form, including false references to genocide, ethnic cleansing, Holocaust distortion, or anything that flagrantly crosses the line into hate speech.”
Shortly after Barrera’s firing, Jenna Ortega dropped out of “Scream 7,” but her decision was due to a scheduling conflict, and director Christopher Landon also left the project. He made the announcement on X, writing in part, “It was a dream job that turned into a nightmare. And my heart did break for everyone involved. Everyone. But it’s time to move on.”
Kevin Williamson, who wrote the original 1996 “Scream” film directed by Wes Craven, returned to direct “Scream 7” with a script from Guy Busick. The film is set to open on Friday, and the cast includes Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, Mason Gooding, Isabel May, Celeste O’Connor, Asa Germann, McKenna Grace, Sam Rechner, and Anna Camp.
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It’s time to talk about Purim’s unsettling message about conversion
Purim is meant to be loud: a holiday for drinking, dressing up, yelling and retelling a story of miraculous survival.
Which means it’s easy to miss a brief but significant verse near the end of the Book of Esther — one that deserves to be lingered over:
“And many of the people of the land professed to be Jews, for the fear of the Jews had fallen upon them.”
That line doesn’t lend itself to celebration. It does not describe people drawn to Judaism by teaching or conviction. Instead, it chronicles a far more troubling choice: people becoming Jews because they are afraid of Jews.
Whether the Book of Esther records events that literally occurred is beside the point. What matters is that Jews read this line aloud every year, carrying its language forward across generations. For a tradition that often insists Judaism does not seek converts and rejects religious coercion, this verse preserves an unsettling possibility: that joining the Jewish people can be driven by fear as much as conviction.
By the end of the narrative, Jews wield power, and the dread that once haunted them shifts outward.
Yes, some read the verse as referring to political alignment rather than religious change. Others treat Esther as satire, its excesses not meant for emulation. Still others point to the absence of God in the book, and dismiss the line as non-theological.
Even with those readings, the line still does something difficult. It places an unresolved moral question inside a festival we otherwise frame as joyful: How does holding power change the face of Judaism?
When conversion was possible — or required
The common claim that Judaism has always discouraged conversion is historically inaccurate. Jewish attitudes toward converts have shifted with political conditions, not because theology changed, but because power dynamics did.
The truth is that for much of Jewish history, conversion was dangerous. After the destruction of the Temple in 70 C.E. and the failure of later revolts against Rome, much of Jewish life developed under sustained imperial pressure. Welcoming people raised outside the community became, practically, risky.
This is why the familiar line “Judaism doesn’t seek converts” is more of a survival posture than an eternal principle. After all, the Hebrew Bible repeatedly reminds readers that Israel’s calling was never meant to be entirely inward. A “mixed multitude” leaves Egypt. Gerim, resident outsiders, are repeatedly considered in biblical law. Isaiah imagines God’s house as a house of prayer for all peoples.
In the late Hellenistic and early Roman periods, Jewish communities were widely visible across the diaspora. An inscription from Aphrodisias in Asia Minor in modern-day Turkey lists not only Jews but also “proselytes” and “God-fearers” among synagogue donors, suggesting gentiles were sometimes attached to synagogue life. Similar “God-fearer” inscriptions survive from other cities in Roman Asia Minor, where gentiles were known to attend synagogues, admire Jewish ethics, and sometimes decide to join the Jewish people.
Even polemical texts preserve traces of this world. Matthew 23:15 mocks those who “travel across sea and land” to make a proselyte — meaning to convert to Judaism. Whatever one makes of the polemic, the line treats the basic fact as unremarkable: that conversion to Judaism was a regular part of the religious landscape in the first-century Mediterranean.
Other ancient sources, including the first-century historian Josephus, describe moments when Jewish rulers used conversion as a tool of rule. One of the starkest examples comes from the Hasmoneans, the priestly family behind the Maccabean revolt who ruled Judea from roughly 140 to 37 B.C.E. Under John Hyrcanus, who reigned from 134 to 104 B.C.E., the kingdom of Judea expanded through conquest. Hyrcanus governed as many ancient rulers did, through coercion.
Among the territories absorbed was Idumea, homeland of the Edomites. According to Josephus, Hyrcanus offered the Idumeans a choice: adopt Jewish law or leave the land. They chose conversion.
This is not an obscure episode. It sits in the shadow of Hanukkah, one of Judaism’s most widely celebrated holidays.
Centuries later, Jewish sovereignty appeared again in the Himyarite kingdom of southern Arabia, where a ruling elite adopted Judaism in the fourth century CE. Eventually, persecution of non-Jews followed. The kingdom’s final ruler, Dhu Nuwas, who reigned from 522 to 530 C.E., oppressed local Christian populations, provoking retaliation from the neighboring Kingdom of Aksum. After more than a century, the Jewish kingdom fell.
Not a powerless minority faith
The reigns of Hyrcanus and Nuwas complicate the familiar story of Judaism as only a powerless minority faith, always deterring conversion. They suggest that Jewish sovereignty could carry the same temptations that haunt sovereignty everywhere, including the temptation to force compliance on those of different beliefs.
The Book of Esther verse about conversion offers a warning about that dynamic, and an imperative to learn from it. The lesson is not to condemn Judaism. It is to refuse a simplified story in which Judaism’s posture toward conversion has been static and untouched by the realities of power.
Across many faiths, when political power disappears, priorities often shift. Teachings turn inward. When power reappears, however briefly, older questions have a habit of returning. Who belongs? Who chooses? And under what conditions are those choices made?
Purim does not allow us to keep those questions at a safe distance. We are meant to hear this troubling verse amid the laughter and noise of our celebrations, not as an endorsement of coercion, but as a warning.
Esther’s story insists that two things can be true: Jews can be vulnerable, and Jews can hold power. And if we can be afraid, it warns, we can also inspire fear, with consequences not only for the societies in which we live, but also for the kind of Jewish life we make possible.
The post It’s time to talk about Purim’s unsettling message about conversion appeared first on The Forward.