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Why are there so many Jewish sports halls of fame?
(JTA) — On one wall of the dining hall at the Indiana University Hillel sit 36 framed photographs of Jewish alumni who have made an impact in the sports industry, from athletes to executives. It’s the IU Jewish Sports Wall of Fame.
One of those pictures is of Josh Rawitch, who has had a long career as an executive in baseball. At first, Rawitch told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, he questioned whether he was truly worthy of being honored alongside fellow Hoosiers like Mark Cuban, the billionaire businessman and owner of the NBA’s Dallas Mavericks, and Ted Kluszewski, a four-time All-Star with the MLB’s Cincinnati Reds in the 1950s.
But then Rawitch thought about the location of the wall, and who it might impact.
“You’re going to have young people, 18, 19 years old, walking in there looking at the wall, seeing all these people who are up there who have gone on to do significant things in the industry,” Rawitch said. “That’s actually pretty cool. That actually inspires them. If I was 18 and I’d have walked in and that wall had been there when I was a freshman, I would have thought, ‘that’s really cool.’ I would love to be like one of those people someday.”
Rawitch knows a thing or two about halls of fame: He’s the president of the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown, New York. He said institutions like the one he leads are important “repositories for history.”
“I think having a hall of fame of any kind in any city essentially does two things — it honors people who are really good at what they do, and it documents the history of what’s gone on in that industry,” he said.
The Indiana University Jewish Sports Wall of Fame, located in the dining hall at Indiana University Hillel. (Courtesy)
The display that honors Rawitch in Bloomington is just one of many halls, walls and exhibits across the United States and the world — many of them small — that honor Jewish greatness in sports. From Southern California to Philadelphia, St. Louis to Washington, D.C., similar organizations and institutions recognize Jewish athletes, coaches, executives, media members and beyond.
Why so many?
“We want to call attention to that because of the antisemitic trope that Jews are not good soldiers, farmers or athletes. We need to overcome that,” said Jed Margolis, who runs the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in Israel, which has honored over 400 athletes since 1981 and is housed in Netanya after being founded in the United States. “It’s simply not true. And telling the stories out there will help inspire people and lay to rest some of those falsehoods which I think are important to overcome.”
In the fight against antisemitism, Steve Rosenberg, who chairs the Philadelphia Jewish Sports Hall of Fame, said “the best defense is a good offense.” The Philadelphia hall, which inducted its first class in 1997 and has moved locations multiple times, has 183 total inductees, including former NFL tight end Brent Novoselsky and longtime 76ers broadcaster Marc Zumoff.
“We shine the light on the great accomplishments of Jews in sports. And we need to do more of that in the world,” Rosenberg said.
Rosenberg added that he thinks there should be even more halls of fame, for Jewish actors, architects, poets and so on, “so that we can celebrate our accomplishments, not in the way that we pat ourselves on the back, but that we can talk about all the great things that we do as a people.”
For Craig Neuman, the chief programming officer at the St. Louis Jewish Community Center, a key feature of Jewish culture is the sense of connection Jews feel when they discover that a celebrity is Jewish. That sense of pride is clear in the work Neuman does with the St. Louis Jewish Sports Hall of Fame, which has its own hallway at the JCC.
“I can’t imagine any other place in the world where you would say, ‘I feel connected to this other country, or these other people, by sheer virtue of our religion,’” Neuman said. “There’s some pride that’s involved with that.”
Like the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame seeks to recognize the most elite athletes — Jewish world record holders, Olympians and the like. Or, as Margolis put it: “We’re looking for the best of the best: the Hank Greenbergs, the Mark Spitzes, people like that.”
Jed Margolis, left, with former Israeli basketball star Mickey Berkowitz, back center, and his family, at the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in Netanya, Israel. (Courtesy of the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame)
At the local halls of fame, the criteria are different. Rawitch likened it to the dynamic between national versus state and local politics.
“As the National Baseball Hall of Fame, I think it’s pretty clear that we are honoring the absolute greatest who ever played or worked within the game of baseball nationally,” Rawitch said. “Clearly, that should be harder to get into than, say, the California Baseball Hall of Fame or the New York Baseball Hall of Fame. But I don’t think it should diminish if you’re a recipient of that. It should be an honor for anybody who’s named to any sort of hall or wall of fame.”
Inclusivity is central to the local halls of fame.
“I think we want to, on some level, send a message that says, ‘hey, just because you’re not in Cooperstown doesn’t mean that you didn’t have an impact in the world, on your sport, in your community,’” said Neuman.
But that doesn’t mean the standards for entry aren’t high. In fact, in St. Louis, candidates for induction must possess more than just athletic accomplishments — there’s also the “mensch factor.”
“When you are in a position where people might look up to you because of some accomplishments, and whether it’s because you’re an athlete, or you’re a politician, or a lawyer or whatever the profession that puts you in the public’s eye, there’s a certain responsibility that comes along with that,” said Neuman. “It’s a great example to set that, yeah, this guy was a great baseball player, but he was also a great human being as well.”
The St. Louis Jewish Sports Hall of Fame has 84 members inducted across eight classes dating back to 1992 — including Chicago Cubs ace Ken Holtzman and basketball legend Nancy Lieberman. The last group was enshrined in 2018.
Many of those inductees represent more than the typical professional sports — baseball, basketball, football, soccer and hockey. There are racquetball and handball players, even a hot air balloonist. (Whether that counted as a sport was a topic of debate for the selection committee.)
In Philadelphia, a similar conversation was held around whether poker should qualify — in that case, poker was allowed, but it turned out the candidate in question wasn’t actually Jewish.
For Rosenberg, recognizing people from a diverse range of sports is an important part of the work, especially as he works to engage younger members of the community.
“I want the young people, particularly the young Jews, to know that there’s a place for you, no matter if you’re a golfer, a swimmer, a gymnast, a baseball player, whatever you want to do, that you can go on to achieve greatness and that greatness will be recognized,” Rosenberg said.
He added that very few people stop by the hall of fame.
“The reality is, if I stood at the hall of fame on any given day, people that are coming in just to see the hall of fame, we couldn’t get a minyan,” Rosenberg said, referencing Judaism’s 10-person prayer quorum. “Maybe over the course of a year. But we do get the sort of incidental traffic, people that are going to the JCC for other activities.”
The Philadelphia Jewish Sports Hall of Fame. (Courtesy)
The Philadelphia hall’s journey to the JCC was not a simple one. The collection used to have a permanent space at a local YMHA, featuring typical sports artifacts like bats and jerseys. Then it moved into the Jewish federation building — until September 2021, when Hurricane Ida caused severe flooding that destroyed much of the hall of fame’s memorabilia. The current exhibit at the JCC is more two-dimensional, Rosenberg said.
One of the Philadelphia inductees is Arn Tellem, the vice chairman of the NBA’s Detroit Pistons and a longtime agent who represented A-list athletes like Kobe Bryant. Throughout the 2000s, Tellem was regularly ranked among the top agents in all of sports, and he is a member of the Southern California, Michigan and Philadelphia Jewish Sports Halls of Fame.
By the time Tellem got the call from the Philadelphia hall in 2015, he had received his fair share of recognition. But that didn’t make this honor count any less for the Philadelphia native. Rosenberg said Tellem “couldn’t wait to come” to the ceremony, bringing three tables worth of supporters with him.
“Arn Tellem isn’t doing this for recognition, or for money, or for fame,” Rosenberg said. “He has that. It means something to him.”
That sentiment seems to be shared by honorees from across the halls. Rosenberg added that he has seen some inductees moved to tears by the news. When Chris Berman, the ESPN broadcaster who has anchored the network’s flagship program “SportsCenter” since a month after it launched in 1979, was honored by the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame, he was “very touched,” said Margolis.
Lauren Becker Rubin, a former star lacrosse and field hockey player at Brown University, was inducted into the Philadelphia Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in 2018.
“It was a big honor for both me and my family,” Becker Rubin told JTA. “I think the connection of celebrating both the athletic achievement and the community makes it meaningful on another level.”
Becker Rubin, who is now a mental performance coach, is also a member of Brown’s athletic Hall of Fame for setting numerous school records in both sports during her college career. But being recognized by her local Jewish community was a particularly special honor, she said.
After her induction, Becker Rubin joined the hall’s board. “Celebrating positive achievements and putting out positive messages about Jewish athletes is a good counter to the negative rhetoric that is out there,” she said.
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Bondi Gunmen Acted Alone, No Evidence They Were Part of Terrorist Cell, Australian Police Say
A CCTV footage shows Naveed Akram and his father, Sajid Akram, both suspects in the shooting attack during a Jewish Hanukkah celebration at Bondi Beach on Dec. 14, carrying items wrapped in blankets, while exiting 103 Brighton Avenue, Campsie, New South Wales, Australia, in this still image taken from a court document released on Dec. 22, 2025. Photo: NSW Police/Handout via REUTERS
Two gunmen who allegedly opened fire on a Jewish celebration on Sydney’s Bondi Beach earlier this month acted alone and there was “no evidence” they were part of a terrorist cell, police said on Tuesday.
Naveed Akram and his father Sajid Akram are alleged to have killed 15 people at a Hanukkah event on Dec. 14, Australia’s worst mass shooting in almost three decades that shocked the nation and led to immediate reforms of already strict gun laws.
Police have previously said the men were inspired by Islamic State, with homemade flags of the terrorist group found in their car after the attack, and a month-long trip by the pair to a Philippines island previously plagued by militancy a major focus of investigation.
But on Tuesday, Australian Federal Police Commissioner Krissy Barrett said there was no indication the men had received formal training on the November trip to Mindanao in the Philippines.
“There is no evidence to suggest these alleged offenders were part of a broader terrorist cell, or were directed by others to carry out an attack,” Barrett told a news conference.
She added the findings were an initial assessment, and authorities in Australia and the Philippines were continuing their investigation.
“I am not suggesting that they were there for tourism,” she said, referring to the Philippines trip.
Sajid Akram was shot dead by police during the attack, while his son Naveed, who was also shot by police, was charged with 59 offenses after waking from a days-long coma earlier this month. Naveed Akram faces charges ranging from 15 counts of murder to terror and explosives offenses.
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The ‘Zombie’ Caliphate: While the World Celebrates the Muslim Brotherhood’s Demise, Its Billion-Dollar Empire Thrives in Plain Sight
Supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood in the Jordanian capital, Amman, chanting pro-Palestinian slogans in April 2018. Photo: Reuters / Muhammad Hamed.
In Washington and Arab capitals, a comforting narrative has taken hold: The Muslim Brotherhood is finished. We are told that the Sisi regime in Egypt has crushed them, that Jordan has shuttered their offices, and that the “Islamist Winter” is finally over. The recent executive order by President Trump to review the group for terror designation is seen as the final nail in the coffin.
But if you look away from the empty political offices and follow the money, you will find a terrifying reality. The Muslim Brotherhood hasn’t gone bankrupt; it has simply gone corporate.
While Western intelligence agencies applaud the closure of dusty headquarters in Amman, they are ignoring the €27 million mega-complexes rising in France, the €4 million real estate fortresses in Berlin, and the terror-linked holding companies trading openly on the Istanbul Stock Exchange. The Brotherhood has transformed from a mass movement into a transnational financial conglomerate — a “Zombie Caliphate” that is legally bulletproof and wealthier than ever.
The Egyptian “Catch-and-Release”
The myth of the Brotherhood’s destruction starts in Egypt. The regime’s “Inventory Committee” boasts of seizing assets worth a staggering 300 billion EGP (approx. $16.7 billion), and liquidating the schools, hospitals, and businesses that formed the movement’s spine.
But the crackdown is porous. In July 2023, an Egyptian court quietly ordered the unfreezing of assets for 146 alleged Brotherhood figures, ruling that the state failed to prove the funds were illicit. This legal “oops” likely allowed millions in liquid capital to flee the country, funneling straight into the offshore networks now appearing in Istanbul and London.
Then there is the case of Safwan Thabet, the tycoon behind Juhayna Food Industries. Arrested for refusing to hand over his empire to the state, he was released in 2023. His survival teaches a harsh lesson: the Brotherhood’s money is so deeply integrated into the legitimate economy that the state cannot tear it out without killing the patient. The “deep state” of Brotherhood finance remains alive, hiding behind the facade of legitimate dairy giants and retail chains.
Turkey: The NATO Safe Haven for Terror Finance
If Egypt is the extraction point, Turkey is the laundromat. Despite President Erdogan’s desperate diplomatic pivot toward Cairo, Istanbul remains the operational heartbeat of this financial insurgency.
Western policymakers need to look closely at the Borsa Istanbul. There, trading openly under the ticker TDGYO, is Trend GYO — a real estate investment trust designated by the US Treasury Department for being 75% owned by Hamas. In a rational world, a NATO member would not host a publicly traded company that funds a designated terror group. In Erdogan’s Turkey, however, Trend GYO continues to develop luxury apartments, such as the recent project in Istanbul’s Alibeyköy district, subcontracting construction to obscure local firms to wash the proceeds.
This is the new model: “Terrorism Inc.” Yemeni billionaire Hamid al-Ahmar, operating freely from Istanbul, chairs Investrade Portfoy, an investment firm that commingles legitimate business with funds allegedly destined for Hamas. Meanwhile, the Brotherhood’s elite send their children to Al-Nahda International Schools in Istanbul — private institutions run by exiled cadres that ensure the next generation is indoctrinated in the ideology of the “Group” while generating tuition revenue.
Europe: The “Concrete” Fortress
As the environment in the Middle East becomes hostile, the Brotherhood has executed a strategic pivot to Europe, replacing “liquid” assets (cash) with “fixed” assets (real estate) protected by Western property laws.
In Austria, the failure of “Operation Luxor” serves as a cautionary tale. In 2020, police raided 60 Brotherhood-linked sites. The result? Zero terrorism convictions. Courts declared the raids unlawful. The Brotherhood didn’t just survive; they lawyered up and won, proving that without a specific designation, European criminal law cannot work against them.
In Germany, the UK-based Europe Trust purchased a massive property in Berlin’s Wedding district for €4 million. This isn’t just a building; it is a command center for the Deutsche Muslimische Gemeinschaft (DMG), insulated from German intelligence by British corporate deeds.
In France, the situation is even more brazen. The Al-Noor Center in Mulhouse — a massive complex featuring a mosque, school, and swimming pool — was built at a cost of €27 million. Intelligence links it to Qatar Charity’s “Ghaith Initiative,” which has poured over €120 million into 140 such projects across Europe. These are not community centers; they are forward operating bases for a parallel society, subsidized by Doha and protected by European property rights.
The West is fighting a 21st-century financial empire with 20th-century police tactics. We raid homes in Vienna while they move crypto in Istanbul. We seize crumbling offices in Jordan while they buy prime real estate in Berlin.
The Muslim Brotherhood is not dead. It is alive, well, and trading on the Istanbul Stock Exchange. Until the US and its allies target the enablers — the Turkish banks clearing Trend GYO transactions, the Qatari transfers to Mulhouse, and the shell companies in London — we are merely cutting the grass while the roots grow deeper.
Amine Ayoub, a fellow at the Middle East Forum, is a policy analyst and writer based in Morocco. Follow him on X: @amineayoubx
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The US Coast Guard Keeps Trying to Loosen Restrictions on Swastikas — Have We Passed a Point of No Return?
People waving Nazi swastika flags argue with conservatives during a protest outside the Tampa Convention Center, where Turning Point USA’s (TPUSA) Student Action Summit (SAS) was being held, in Tampa, Florida, US July 23, 2022. Photo: REUTERS/Marco Bello
It is hard to describe the insanity of what the US Coast Guard just did — or nearly did — without sounding alarmist. But alarm is warranted.
In a quiet, internal policy change, the Coast Guard downgraded swastikas and nooses from explicit hate symbols to what it blandly called “potentially divisive” imagery. Not in a press release. Not after consultation with Jewish or civil-rights groups. Quietly. Bureaucratically. Almost accidentally — until reporters noticed.
Only after Jewish organizations, veterans’ groups, and US senators demanded answers did the Coast Guard scramble to reverse course, insisting all along that nothing had really changed.
Then the Coast Guard tried to do this a second time. Once again, the plan was exposed, and the Coast Guard reversed course. But no one in the administration condemned it.
It seems clear that something has fundamentally changed.
A swastika is not “potentially divisive.”
A noose is not “context dependent.”
They are not ambiguous. They are not debatable. They are among the clearest symbols of hatred in human history — shorthand for genocide, terror, and racial violence. The fact that a uniformed US service sought to allow these symbols on government property in some contexts should disturb every American.
Semantic Cowardice Disguised as Neutrality
The Coast Guard’s revised guidance did not outright permit swastikas in all cases — but it said there should be nuance in deciding when one could be displayed. And it did something extremely corrosive: it reframed them.
By categorizing swastikas and nooses as “potentially divisive imagery,” the policy stripped them of their categorical moral status. Under the new language, commanding officers might intervene. Or they might not. Everything depended on context, interpretation, discretion.
That is not how institutions fight hatred. That is how they avoid responsibility.
Words matter in bureaucracies. Classification determines enforcement. Once something moves from “prohibited hate symbol” to “potentially divisive,” the burden shifts — from the institution to the offended party, from clarity to contestation, from principle to process.
For Jews, the swastika is not merely offensive; it is existential. It is the emblem under which six million Jews were murdered — grandparents, children, entire communities erased. It is not reclaimed. It is not misunderstood. It is not ambiguous.
Calling it “potentially divisive” is not neutral language. It is moral minimization.
The Gaslighting That Followed
What made this episode worse was not just the policy change — but the response to criticism.
Jewish leaders were told, repeatedly, that no downgrade had occurred. That the Coast Guard maintained a zero-tolerance stance. That reports suggesting otherwise were mistaken.
And yet the language was there, in black and white.
When Jewish organizations pointed this out, the reaction was not contrition but deflection. When senators demanded answers, the response was confusion. Only once political pressure became unavoidable did the Coast Guard and the Department of Homeland Security quietly remove the offending language — while still insisting there had never been a problem. And then they tried to do the same thing again!
This is institutional gaslighting.
If nothing changed, why was the language altered?
If the policy was always clear, why did it need “clarification”?
If leadership opposed the downgrade, how did it happen on their watch?
Institutions erode trust not only through bad decisions, but through evasive ones.
Why This Keeps Happening
It would be comforting to chalk this up to ideology — to blame wokeness, antisemitism, or a rogue staffer. But that explanation is too simple, and therefore too comforting.
What actually happened here is more unsettling.
This is what happens when institutions treat offense as a liability to be managed rather than evil as something to be condemned.
In modern bureaucracies, the overriding imperative is not truth or justice but risk mitigation. The goal is to avoid complaints, minimize exposure, and keep controversies from escalating. When everything is framed as “potentially divisive,” nothing is clearly wrong.
Accountability Matters — and Someone Approved This
Policies do not downgrade themselves.
Someone wrote that language. Someone reviewed it. Someone approved it. And someone allowed Jewish groups to be told one thing while the written policy said another.
This is not about vengeance or scapegoating. It is about governance.
Public trust depends on knowing that decisions with moral consequences are made deliberately, transparently, and honestly. When leadership cannot explain how such a change occurred — or insists it never occurred at all — confidence erodes further.
If Federal agencies want credibility when confronting antisemitism, they must show that internal processes match public assurances. Anything less invites suspicion that moral clarity exists only when politically convenient.
Why Jews Are Right to Be Alarmed
Some will say this controversy is overblown — that the policy was technical, that no harm was intended, that the reversal proves the system works.
That response misunderstands the moment.
American Jews are living through a historic surge in antisemitism — on campuses, in cities, online, and increasingly in physical space. Swastikas are not abstractions. They appear on synagogues, playgrounds, dormitories, and subway cars. They are not rare provocations; they are routine intimidation.
In that environment, government institutions do not get the luxury of ambiguity.
When a uniformed service wavers on whether a swastika is unequivocally a hate symbol, Jews hear a message — even if unintended: your history is negotiable; your fear is contextual; your dignity depends on discretion.
For Jews, this is not symbolic politics. It is the language of survival.
This episode does not stand alone. It fits a pattern Jews now recognize with grim familiarity — from college campuses to the streets of major American cities.
History’s lesson is not that hatred begins with shouting. It begins with hedging that is tolerated quietly, normalized bureaucratically, and explained away procedurally until institutions discover they no longer know how to draw lines at all.
And when that happens, Jews are never the only ones at risk — just the first to notice.
Every Federal agency should be required — explicitly and publicly — to designate genocidal and terror symbols as categorically prohibited, without modifiers, caveats, or discretion. No euphemisms. No contextual hedging. No bureaucratic laundering of moral truth.
Moral clarity is not extremism. It is the minimum requirement of authority.
A swastika is not a misunderstanding. It is not “potentially divisive.” It is a warning.
And any institution that hesitates to say so is warning us, too.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
