Uncategorized
Wild pitch: How an Israeli kibbutznik became a Cincinnati Reds pitching coach
KIBBUTZ GEZER, Israel (JTA) — Bill James, the influential baseball writer, historian and statistician, once described the great Yankee first baseman Don Mattingly in only four words: “100% ballplayer, 0% bulls—.”
The same can be said of Alon Leichman, by all accounts the first athlete born and raised in Israel to make it to the major leagues, having just been named assistant pitching coach of the Cincinnati Reds.
Under manager David Bell, Leichman will help instruct the team’s pitchers — including Chase Anderson, Luis Cessa, Fernando Cruz, Alexis Díaz and Hunter Greene — on mechanics, pitch selection, preparation, concentration and execution.
His journey has been unlikely, verging on preposterous: How could someone from Israel, where baseball is barely an afterthought, step out of the wheat fields of a kibbutz to the highest level of baseball in the world?
The 33-year-old Leichman is the product of Kibbutz Gezer, the youngest child born to two idealists who grew up in Zionist youth groups and helped found this kibbutz in central Israel in the 1970s together with other Anglo — that is, English-speaking — Zionists.
But David, Alon’s father, couldn’t leave it all behind in Queens, New York. He was a baseball fan, a big baseball fan — “I always knew that if, God forbid, there’s a fire in my house, I know where my baseball glove is” — and one day, he and his fellow kibbutz residents had an idea: Why don’t we cut off a slice of the wheat crop and construct a regulation-sized field in the southwest corner of the kibbutz, where we can all go play when we get off work?
That was 1983, and there wasn’t a single baseball or softball field in all of Israel So David, who was in charge of construction on the kibbutz (Alon’s mother, Miri, is the kibbutz rabbi), built his field of dreams, just 450 yards from his front door and in the shadow of the 4,000-year-old archaeological site that gives Gezer its name.
And that’s where Alon Leichman grew up, first brought to the field by his father for the 1989 Maccabiah Games, five weeks after Alon was born on May 29.
“I never related to that field as the place my dad built,” Leichman said. “It was a field that was on the kibbutz. Growing up, everyone around me played — my older brother played, and all my friends, a little older than me, played.
David Leichman, left, stands behind the backstop at the baseball field he helped build at Kibbutz Gezer in Israel, where his son Alon, right, learned the game that has brought him to the major leagues. (Elli Wohlgelernter)
“I remember — I was 4, in gan [pre-kindergarten], and I would walk to the baseball field and practice. I vividly remember being in the gan and going to practice. But baseball on the kibbutz is just something that I grew into. Everyone did it; I was not special, just another kid who played. I happened to love it a lot.”
So he played and played and got better and better. By age 10, he was on the team representing Israel at a tournament in the Netherlands. But baseball in Israel back then was in its infancy, and there was not enough money to pay for the team to travel. So Leichman had to work extra hours to get the kibbutz to fly him over.
Not that he wasn’t used to working — like all kibbutz members, he was already contributing by third grade. But now he had to put in extra hours, picking olives or milking cows, to make the extra money.
“I liked milking cows,” he recalled. “Sometimes it’s hard work, but I got more of a kick out of it than hitting an olive tree” to shake loose the olives.
Leichman remembers well that tournament in Holland, the first time he wore the Israeli uniform representing his country abroad.
“It was really cool,” he recalled. “A sense of pride. That’s the first time I think I felt like: ‘You’re not just Alon, you’re not just representing the kibbutz anymore — you’re representing a whole country.’
“I knew back then that Israel was not on the best terms [with] the world. So it was something that I was aware of: that part of our job of playing baseball is also making sure that these guys get to know Israelis other than what they hear on the news and show them that, you know, we’re good people.”
The 5’-8” right-hander kept playing, kept improving and kept representing Israel at tournaments. He played in the one-season Israel Baseball League in 2007 as the second-youngest player, served in the Israeli army from 2007 to 2010, and then headed to the states to play college ball at two schools, Cypress College and the University of California, San Diego.
In his first appearance at Cypress, his elbow blew out, and he needed what’s known as “Tommy John surgery” to repair a torn ulnar ligament inside the elbow. Then he got hurt again and had a second Tommy John surgery. But when he got hurt a third time, and the doctor said he needed to go under the knife yet again, Leichman knew that his hopes for a professional playing career were over.
But not before proving to himself that he had what it takes.
“I know I was good in Israel. I knew that. But I had no idea how I would fare coming to the States. I thought I could fare [well] there, but I really never knew because I had never faced those types of hitters. And then, in my first game, I did really well for two and a third innings, four strikeouts. No one got on. It was 1-2-3, 1-2-3, and then I got the first guy out in the ninth. And on a one-two fastball, my elbow popped. So it was like, ‘Okay, I can do this here.’”
His love for the game never left him, and Leichman grew into an insightful and intuitive coach. His expertise and aptitude were self-evident.
Various jerseys from Alon Leichman’s baseball career are displayed on the wall of his family’s home at Kibbutz Gezer, Israel. (Elli Wohlgelernter)
“Alon will be a big-league coach one day,” pitcher and teammate Alex Katz said three years ago. “It’s hard to get a coaching job in affiliate ball without professional experience, let alone non-affiliated experience. But he’s just one of the most intelligent baseball minds I’ve ever been around. And he’s young.”
Leichman said his strength is “helping guys get better. Communicating with them. Being able to relate to them. Getting on their level. Simplifying it for them. And being creative and finding ways to throw more strikes.”
Despite the surgeries, Leichman could still pitch, if he did it sparingly. He joined Israel’s World Baseball Classic teams of 2012, 2016 and 2017 as a player or coach; pitched for the European Baseball Championship team in 2019; threw in the Olympic qualifying tournaments in 2019; and hurled one perfect inning against Team USA at the Olympics in 2021 in Tokyo. Along the way, he also earned a black belt in jujitsu.
But coaching was his future, and after being given a chance in 2017 to instruct in the Seattle Mariners farm system, Leichman kept moving up, from Single A to Double AA to Triple AAA, before being grabbed by the Reds to join their major league staff this season.
His father is overwhelmed. “It’s unbelievable,” David Leichman said. “I’m still shaking and crying to myself about how wonderful this has been. It’s really amazing.”
Alon is no less shell-shocked, having agreed to sign a contract with the Reds on the same day the New York Mets asked to interview him about a potential job.
“It’s not really sinking in yet, to be honest,” he said while in Israel recently to visit his family on Gezer. “But it’s definitely a dream come true, something I’ve been dreaming about since I’m a little kid. Obviously, I wanted to be there as a player, but once I got hurt and realized that playing was not an option anymore, I started pursuing coaching. I wanted to do it at the highest level. The dream remained; it just took a different route. But it’s still as exciting.”
Leichman is still undecided on whether to join Team Israel’s coaching staff in Florida for the WBC in March before heading back to Goodyear, Arizona, to rejoin the Reds in spring training. But this product of the wheat fields of Gezer won’t ever forget from where he’s come: His uniform numeral, 29, is a constant reminder. It’s his laundry tag number at the kibbutz.
—
The post Wild pitch: How an Israeli kibbutznik became a Cincinnati Reds pitching coach appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
Saul Rubinek plays a version of himself in ‘Playing Shylock’
דער מאָנטרעאַלער אַקטיאָר סאָל רובינעק האָט אַ סך װאָס צו דערציילן.
ער איז דערצו אויך אַ גרויסער מאמין אינעם כּוח פֿון דערציילן.
„דערציילן איז אַלץ,“ זאָגט ער.
טאַקע די פֿראַזע האָט רובינעק, בעת אַן אינטערװיו מיט מיר, אויסגעקליבן װי אַ פּרוּװ איבערצוזעצן דעם טיטל פֿון זײַן אויטאָביאָגראַפֿישן ראָמאַן, All in the Telling. אַרויס פֿון דרוק אין 2025, איז דער ראָמאַן אַ האַלב־פֿיקטיװע כראָניק פֿון זײַנע עטלערן, ביידע פֿון דער שארית־הפּליטה, און זײַנע פֿאַרװיקלטע באַציִונגען מיט זיי און מיט זייערע טראַװמאַטישע לעבנס־געשיכטעס.
דער טיטל װאָלט זיך אויך גוט צוגעפּאַסט צו זײַן אויפֿטריט אין דער מאָנאָדראַמע Playing Shylock („דאָס שפּילן שײַלאָק“), געשריבן פֿונעם קאַנאַדער דראַמאַטורג מאַרק לירין־יאָנג. די פּיעסע וועט מען שפּילן ביזן 7טן דעצעמבער אין פּאָלאָנסקי־שעקספּיר־צענטער אין ברוקלין.
במשך פֿון דער פּיעסע, דערציילט ער, פֿאַרציילט ער, רעדט ער זיך אַראָפּ פֿון האַרצן. און דער אינהאַלט פֿון זײַנע שפֿעדיקע רייד? אַ פֿיקטיװע, אַנולירטע אויפֿפֿירונג פֿון שעקספּירס „דער קויפֿמאַן פֿון װענעדיג“. במשך פֿון זײַנע צװיי שעה אויף דער בינע הערן מיר די צרות פֿון אַן אַקטיאָר, װאָס האָט געדאַרפֿט שפּילן די ראָלע פֿון שײַלאָק אין דער דאָזיקער פּראָדוקציע: צרות מיט די פּראָדוצענטן, מיטן הײַנטצײַטיקן אַנטיסעמיטיזם און שמאָלקעפּיקײט, און צרות מיט זיך אַליין — װײַל רובינעק שפּילט טאַקע אַ װערסיע פֿון זיך אַליין אין דער אויפֿפֿירונג.
די דראַמע איז אַ רעװידירטער נוסח פֿון אַ פּיעסע, „שײַלאָק“, װאָס לירין־יאָנג האָט צוערשט אָנגעשריבן אין 1996. (אַגבֿ, יוסף באָװשאָװערס באַקאַנטע ייִדישע איבערזעצונג פֿון דער פּיעסע, װאָס מען האָט אַ מאָל געשפּילט אויף דער צווייטער עװעניו, הייסט אויך „שײַלאָק“.) אינעם נײַעם נוסח פֿון לירין־יאָנגס װערק, שפּיגלט די פּיעסע אָפּ פֿאַרשיידענע פֿאַקטן פֿונעם הויפּט־אַקטיאָרס לעבן, און דער עולם װייסט קיין מאָל נישט װאָסער פּרט איז אַן אויסגעטראַכטער און װאָסערער איז טאַקע אַ טשיקאַװעס פֿון רובינעקס לעבן. אין דעם ליגט אַ סך פֿון דער פּיעסעס שפּאַנונג און אומזיכערקייט.
אין עטלעכע מאָמענטן, דעקלאַמירט רובינעק שײַלאָקס מאָנאָלאָגן אין דער שטים פֿונעם טאַטן — אַפֿילו אַ מאָל מיט אַ גמרא־ניגון („װער דען װאָלט געשפּילט שײַלאָק אַזוי?“ האָט ער מיך שפּעטער רעטאָריש געפֿרעגט). בײַם סוף פֿון דער פּיעסע, װאָס איז כּמעט אין גאַנצן אויף ענגליש, הערן מיר די באַרימטע רעדע „האָט דען אַ ייִד ניט קיין אויגן?“, דװקא אויף מאַמע־לשון.
„אין זײַן ספּעציפֿישקייט, װערט ייִדיש אוניװערסאַל,“ זאָגט רובינעק, װאָס האָט אויך געשפּילט אויף ייִדיש אינעם פֿילם Shttl („שטטל“, 2002) און די ראָלע פֿון הירש ראַסיינער (אויף ענגליש) אינעם פֿילם The Quarrel (די קריג, 1991), באַזירט אויף חיים גראַדעס דערציילונג. „אין זײַן ספּעציפֿישקייט װעגן אונדזערע איבערלעבונגען װי מענטשן, װי ייִדן, קענען מיר זיך ׳האַלטן בײַ די הענט׳ מיט דער גאַנצער װעלט.“
טיילװײַז האָט דער אַקטיאָר טאַקע דורכגעפֿירט דעם שמועס מיט מיר אויף ייִדיש, װאָס, ער איז מודה, קומט אים אָן שװערלעך, נאָר װאָס ער האָט בײַ זיך „נישט אין קאָפּ, נאָר אין האַרצן.“
איך האָב אים געפֿרעגט, צי ער פּרוּווט טאַקע פֿאַרגופֿן אין דער פּיעסע די אינטאָנאַציעס און זשעסטן פֿונעם טאַטן?
„איך האָב אַפֿילו ניט געדאַרפֿט פּרוּװן. אַלע קינדער קענען נאָכמאַכן זייערע טאַטע־מאַמעס,“ האָט ער געזאָגט. „דאָס גאַנצע לעבן האָב איך געזען װי דער טאַטע טרעט אויף פֿאַר משפּחה און פֿרײַנד. אַ נאַטירלעכער דערציילער איז ער געװען.“
מאַכט דער רמב״ן: „מעשׂה אָבֿות סימן לבנים“ — די טאַטן פֿון די עלטערן און די עלטערנס עלטערן זאָגן פֿאָרויס דאָס לעבן פֿון די קינדער.
רובינעקס טאַטע, ישׂראל רובינעק, אַ געבוירענער אין לאָדזש, האָט אָנגעפֿירט מיט אַ טעאַטער־טרופּע אין די־פּי־לאַגער פֿערנװאַלד, אין בײַערן. רובינעק איז טאַקע געבוירן געװאָרן אין דער זעלבער נאַכט, וואָס דער טאַטע איז דאָרט אויפֿגעטראָטן ווי דער גולם אין לייװיקס באַרימטער דראַמאַטישע פּאָעמע, אין 1948.
אָט דער צופֿאַל, דאָס געשעעניש, שמעקט מיט באַשערטקייט, מיט הייליקייט אַפֿילו. די אָ הייליקייט באַמערקט רובינעק אין משך פֿון „דאָס שפּילן שײַלאָק“, אין איינער פֿון דער פּיעסעס שטאַרקסטע רעפּליקן:
„איך האָב קיין מאָל ניט געגלייבט אין גאָט. איך גלייב אין דעם, אין טעאַטער. דאָס איז הייליק.“
אָבער אויך אין ייִדיש גלייבט ער. „ייִדיש, װי טעאַטער, איז קאָמונאַל — און איז הייליק,“ האָט ער מיר געזאָגט. „װי לאַנג האָט מען געזאָגט אַז טעאַטער איז טויט? אַזוי אויך מיט ייִדיש.“
דער אַקטיאָר זאָגט אַז עס גלוסט זיך אים איצט שפּילן אין ייִדישן טעאַטער, און ער האַלט אין אַרומרעדן מעגלעכע פּראָיעקטן.
אויך מיר, סײַ צוקוקער סײַ מיט־אַרטיסטן, קוקן אַרויס אויף דעם — אויף נאָך אַזאַ קאָמונאַלער, עקסטרע־הייליקער איבערלעבונג אין טונקעלן טעאַטער־זאַל, װוּ גאָר ניט איז ניט קאָנקרעט און קלאָר.
װי רובינעק זאָגט אין דער נײַער אויפֿפֿירונג, מיט פֿאַררייטלטע באַקן און שטאַרק אַקטיװירטע ברוגז־מוסקלען: „דער טעאַטער איז ניט קיין safe space (געזיכערט אָרט).“
דאָס הייסט, דער טעאַטער איז פֿאָרט אַ פֿאָרום פֿאַר פֿראַגעס, חילוקי־דעות, און גײַסטיקן געראַנגל.
זאָל זײַן אַזוי.
די פּיעסע וועט מען שפּילן ביזן 7טן דעצעמבער אין פּאָלאָנסקי־שעקספּיר־צענטער אין ברוקלין. צו קויפֿן בילעטן גיט אַ קוועטש דאָ.
The post Saul Rubinek plays a version of himself in ‘Playing Shylock’ appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Hasidic leader defends support for Mamdani. ‘I’m taking beatings to save you’
Zohran Mamdani’s election as New York City mayor is further deepening divisions within the Jewish community, with some mainstream organizations now adopting a wait-and-see approach while others denounce him as an “enemy.” At the same time, support for Mamdani among certain Hasidic groups is drawing growing attention.
In a recent tense interview with Mishpacha magazine, a weekly conservative publication widely read in the Haredi community, Rabbi Moshe Indig, a political leader of the sect known as the Ahronim, was pressed to defend his public embrace of Mamdani in the final days of the mayoral race. (The Ahronim is led by Rabbi Aaron Teitelbaum from Kiryas Joel.)
“People call me a kapo,” Indig told the magazine, using a term that originally referred to Jewish inmates at Nazi concentration camps who were assigned to assist the SS. “Anyone who knows what a kapo is can see that I am the exact opposite — a kapo beat you up to save himself. I’m taking beatings to save you.”
Indig’s endorsement of Mamdani set off a firestorm within the community, exposing sharp internal divides over whether the candidate deserved the trust of many Jews. Criticism of Mamdani intensified after the election, following his mixed response to the protest outside the Park East Synagogue, which featured anti-Israel and antisemitic slogans. Mamdani, through a spokesperson, questioned the use of a sacred place for an event promoting migration to Israel, while also discouraging the language that was used at the protest.
“I’m taking missiles over this, not just bullets,” Indig said in the interview. He explained that his support stemmed from Mamdani’s quiet, sustained outreach to Haredi leaders and his clear status as the race’s frontrunner, saying Mamdani had simply earned the endorsement.
“I didn’t promise him votes,” Indig said. “I explained that because the community was so convinced of his antisemitism, I wouldn’t be able to get the majority of people to vote for him.”
Mamdani, he said, replied that he wasn’t seeking votes so much as an opportunity to show he could earn the community’s trust and disprove their perceptions of him. “I saw that as a beautiful invitation to our community,” Indig said.
Part of Mamdani’s outreach included a visit to Hasidic leaders in South Williamsburg during Sukkot and an open letter in Hasidic Yiddish that outlined his plans to combat antisemitism and advance his affordability agenda.
Andrew Cuomo, who won a majority of the Jewish vote and dominated Hasidic areas in Brooklyn on Election Day, failed to do that sort of politicking, Indig said. “Cuomo, who was supposed to be the favorite of the Jews, didn’t ask to go to any sukkah. Not one,” he said.
Indig’s endorsement of Mamdani marks the third consecutive mayoral race in which the Ahronim has demonstrated its political influence by backing the eventual winner, while other Hasidic blocs supported rival candidates. In 2021, they endorsed Eric Adams over Andrew Yang, who was favored by most leading Hasidic sects. And in 2013, they backed Bill de Blasio, who narrowly avoided a runoff in the Democratic primary by just 5,000 votes, while the Zalonim and other groups supported Bill Thompson, then seen as the frontrunner.
“We are currently the only Yidden with access to the future City Hall,” he boasted, using the Yiddish word for Jews. He hopes that changes, he said.
Last month, Mamdani named more than a dozen diverse Jewish leaders and activists to his transition team. Monica Klein, the Mamdani transition’s communications director, said the subcommittees are preparing to implement his “agenda of safety and security for Jewish New Yorkers and everyone else who calls this city home, including his pledge for an 800% increase in anti-hate crime prevention.”
Perceptions of Mamdani have yet to change. A recent poll of 745 American Jews found that 67% believed Mamdani’s election would make New York City’s Jews less safe, while 6% believed they would be safer. The Anti-Defamation League, which clashed with Mamdani during the election, launched a monitor to track Mamdani’s appointments and policies. The ADL also criticized the inclusion of Tamika Mallory as a member of the transition committee on community safety. Mallory co-founded the 2017 Women’s March, then stepped down from the organization after criticism over her ties to Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan and her refusal to affirm Israel’s right to exist.
Indiq affirmed that he’s comfortable with his decision. “Getting guarantees from him before the election gives me critical leverage afterward — if he fails to be a friend, I can call him on his promise to be there for us,” he said.
The post Hasidic leader defends support for Mamdani. ‘I’m taking beatings to save you’ appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Israel’s Netanyahu Says Syria Deal Possible, Expects Buffer Zone
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu participates in the state memorial ceremony for the fallen of the Iron Swords War on Mount Herzl, in Jerusalem, Oct. 16, 2025. Photo: Alex Kolomoisky/Pool via REUTERS
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said on Tuesday a deal with Syria is possible and he expects Syrian authorities to establish a demilitarized buffer zone from Damascus to Mount Hermon and other areas.
Netanyahu spoke a day after US President Donald Trump, whose administration has been trying to broker a non-aggression pact between the two countries, said it was very important that Israel maintained a “strong and true dialogue” with Damascus.
Syria does not formally recognize Israel, which following the fall of longtime Syrian leader Bashar al-Assad in December moved troops into a buffer zone along the Syrian border to secure a military position to prevent terrorists from launching attacks against the Jewish state.
The previously demilitarized zone in the Golan Heights, a strategic region on Israel’s northern border previously controlled by Syria and later annexed by Israel, was established under the 1974 Disengagement of Forces Agreement between Damascus and Jerusalem that ended the Yom Kippur War. However, Israel considered the agreement void after the collapse of Assad’s regime.
“What we expect Syria to do is, of course, to establish a demilitarized buffer zone from Damascus to the buffer area, including the approaches to Mount Hermon and the Hermon peak,” Netanyahu said while visiting wounded soldiers in central Israel. “We hold these areas in order to ensure the security of Israel’s citizens, and that is what obligates us.”
He added: “With goodwill and an understanding of these principles, it is possible to reach an agreement with the Syrians, but we will stand by our principles in any case.”
Trump has backed Syria‘s new leader, Ahmed al-Sharaa, while Israel has voiced wariness over Sharaa’s past links to Islamist militancy, but has engaged in efforts to broker a deal.
An Israeli raid in southern Syria on Friday killed 13 Syrians, Syrian state media reported. The Israeli military said it had targeted a Lebanese Islamist militant group there. Netanyahu on Tuesday was visiting soldiers wounded in the clash.