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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.
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Memoirs of a young female courier in Warsaw during the Holocaust
„הײַנט װעט זיכער עפּעס פֿאָרקומען.“ אַזױ רעדן צװישן זיך ייִדן, װאָס האָבן זיך צונױפֿגעזאַמלט אױף אַ ראָג גאַס אינעם װאַרשעװער געטאָ. אײנער פּרוּװט זײַן אָפּטימיסטיש: „ייִדן, שרעקט זיך נישט, איר װעט זען, מיט גאָטס הילף, װעלן מיר די נײַע גזירה אױך איבערקומען“. דאָס איז געװען דער 22טער יולי 1942, דער ערשטער טאָג פֿון דער „גרױסער דעפּאָרטאַציע“, װען די דײַטשן האָבן אַרױסגעפֿירט אַרום 250 טױזנט ייִדן אין די אומברענג־לאַגערן.
מיט דער סצענע עפֿנט װלאַדקע מיד איר בוך זכרונות „פֿון בײדע זײַטן געטאָ־מױער“ װעגן איר לעבן אין װאַרשע בעתן חורבן. לכתּחילה זײַנען זיי אַרױס אין המשכים אין „פֿאָרװערטס“ גלײַך נאָך איר אָנקומען קײן אַמעריקע אין 1946. אין 1948 איז דאָס בוך דערשינען בײַ דעם בילדונג־קאָמיטעט פֿון אַרבעטער־רינג. אין 1977 איז דאָס בוך אַרויס אױף ענגליש מיט אַ הקדמה פֿון אלי װיזעל. איצט איז פּובליקירט געוואָרן אַ פֿאַרברײטערטע אױפֿלאַגע באַגלײט מיט הקדמות פֿונעם היסטאָריקער שמואל קאַסאָװ און פֿונעם איבערזעצער, װלאַדקעס זון סטיװען (שלמה) מיד.
וולאַדקע מיד ברענגט דעם לײענער גלײַך אַרײַן אין דער אַטמאָספֿער פֿון האָפֿענונג, שרעק און ייִאוש וואָס האָט געהערשט אינעם װאַרשעװער געטאָ. זי לאָזט דעם לײענער הערן דעם מישמאַש פֿון שטימען פֿון ייִדן, דײַטשן און זײערע אוקראַיִנער מיטהעלפֿער, פֿון װעלכע עס שאַפֿט זיך די טראַגישע געשיכטע פֿון די לעצטע צען חדשים פֿונעם געטאָ.
צום גליק האָט זי אױסגעמיטן די טעגלעכע „אַקציִעס“, װען די „מונדירן“ — דער נאָמען פֿאַר דער ייִדישע פּאָליצײ אױפֿן געטאָ־לשון — האָבן געכאַפּט ייִדן פֿאַר די דעפּאָרטאַציעס. באַלד איז זי געבליבן אַלײן: „די מאַמע, ברודער און שװעסטער זײַנען אַװעקגעפֿירט [געוואָרן] אין דער פּײַנלעכער אומבאַװוּסטקײט“. װלאַדקע האָט אָבער געהאַט אַ גוטן מזל צו באַקומען אַן אַרבעט אין אײנעם פֿון די װאַרשטאַטן װאָס האָבן באַדינט די דײַטשן.
נאָך דער צװײטער „סעלעקציע“ אין סעפּטעמבער 1942 האָבן די געבליבענע ייִדן זיך גענומען צוגרײטן אַ װידערשטאַנד: „אױב שױן אומקומען, זאָל זײַן מיט װירדע, זאָל כאָטש דער שׂונא באַצאָלן אַ טײַערן פּרײַז פֿאַר אונדזער לעבן!“
יונגערהײט האָט װלאַדקע זיך באַטײליקט אינעם „ייִדישן אַרבעטער בונד“, און די דאָזיקע פֿאַרבינדונג האָט איר געהאָלפֿן בלײַבן לעבן בשעתן חורבן. חוץ דעם, האָט זי געהאַט אַ „גוטן אַרישן אױסזען“, גערעדט פּױליש אָן שום ייִדישן אַקצענט. די בונדיסטישע אונטערערדישע פֿירערשאַפֿט אינעם געטאָ האָט איר פֿאָרגעלײגט צו װערן אַ קוריער צװישן דעם געטאָ און דער אַרישער זײַט. אַזױ איז דאָס ייִדישע מײדל פֿײגעלע פּעלטעל געװאָרן אַ פּױלישע פֿרױ װלאַדיסלאַװאַ קאָװאַלסקאַ, בקיצור — װלאַדקע.
בהדרגה װערט זי אײַנגעגלידערט אינעם „נאָרמאַלן“ לעבן צװישן קריסטלעכע פּאָליאַקן. צוערשט איז זי געװען אָפּטימיסטיש: „איך האָב געװאָלט גלױבן, אַז בײַ די פּאָליאַקן איז דאָ אַ שטאַרקן אינטערעס צו העלפֿן זײערע באַקאַנטע ייִדן.“ אָבער באַלד האָט זי דערזען, אַז מען װיל גאָר ניט װיסן װעגן דעם, װאָס עס קומט פֿאָר אױף יענער זײַט געטאָ־מױער.
די אױפֿגאַבע פֿון װלאַדקע און אירע חבֿרים אױף דער אַרישער זײַט איז געװען צו קריגן געװער פֿאַרן געטאָ. קײן דערפֿאַרונג און קײן גוטע באַציִונגען מיט דער פּױלישער אונטערערדישער אַרמײ האָבן זײ אָבער ניט געהאַט: „גאַנצע טעג לױפֿט מען אַרום איבער דער שטאָט. מען זוכט און נישטערט. ממש צו יעדן באַקאַנטן פּאָליאַק, װאָס רופֿט נאָר אַרױס צו זיך אַ ביסל צוטרױ, הײבט מען גלײַך אָן צושטײן און בעטן: העלפֿט אונדז שאַפֿן געװער, מיר װעלן גוט באַצאָלן!“
אָבער לרובֿ באַקומען זײ קנאַפּע הילף. אָפֿט מאָל נעמט מען בײַ זײ געלט און גיט זײ גאָר נישט, אָדער, נאָך ערגער, מסרט מען זײ צו די דײַטשן. און אַפֿילו װען זיי קענען יאָ קריגן אַ רעװאָלװער, מוזן זײ געפֿינען אַן אופֿן, װי אַזױ אים אַרײַנצושמוגלען אינעם געטאָ.
דאָס בוך איז אַ געשפּאַנטע לעקטור. װלאַדקע מיד איז אַ באַגאַבטע דערצײלערין, װאָס דערקלערט פּרט נאָך פּרט אַלע אַספּעקטן פֿון איר געפֿערלעכער אַרבעט. יעדער טאָג קען זײַן דער לעצטער, װען מען װײסט ניט, צי מען װעט דערלעבן ביז אָװנט. זי האָט אַ סך מער מפּלות אײדער דערפֿאָלגן, און אין אַ סך פֿאַלן איז זי געראַטעװעט געװאָרן דורך אַ גליקלעכן צופֿאַל.
קאַסאָװס הקדמה באַשרײַבט דעם ברײטערן היסטאָרישן קאָנטעקסט פֿון יענער תּקופֿה, און מיד גיט צו פּערזענלעכע פּרטים װעגן זײַן מאַמעס לעבן פֿאַרן חורבן אױפֿן סמך פֿון אירע אינטערװיוען אין דער אַמעריקאַנער פּרעסע.
בײַם איבערזעצן האָט מיד אַרײַנגעשטעלט אין קלאַמערן קורצע דערקלערונגען, װאָס העלפֿן בעסער פֿאַרשטײן דעם קאָנטעקסט. ער האָט באַשלאָסן אָפּצוהיטן ייִדישע װערטער פֿון דער ספּעציפֿישער געטאָ־שפּראַך, אַזעלכע װי „אַקציע“, „מונדירן“, „בלאָקאַדע“. דאָס שאַפֿט דעם עפֿעקט פֿון עכטקײט, אָבער אין אײניקע פֿאַלן רופֿט די דאָזיקע סטראַטעגיע אַרויס פֿראַגעס: צוליב װאָס האָט ער „איבערגעזעצט“ דאָס װאָרט „קריסטין“ אינעם ייִדישן מקור ווי Shikse? בכּלל איז די איבערזעצונג זײער פֿרײַ און צו מאָל װײַט פֿונעם ייִדישן טעקסט.
אין אַמעריקע האָט װלאַדקע מיד געװידמעט איר לעבן דער חורבן־דערציִונג, און די נײַע אױפֿלאַגע פֿון איר בוך איז ממשיך דעם דאָזיקן שליחות. דאָס איז אַ װיכטיקער צוגאָב צו דער װאַקסנדיקער ביבליאָטעק פֿון דאָקומענטן און פֿאָרשונגען װעגן װאַרשעװער געטאָ. צום באַדויערן איז די געשיכטע פֿונעם ייִדישן װידערשטאַנד קעגן דער דײַטשישער אָקופּאַציע נאָך ניט געהעריק אײַנגעשלאָסן אינעם אַמעריקאַנער „האָלאָקאָסט עדוקײשן“, אַפֿילו אין ייִדישע טאָגשולן.
װען איך דערצײל למשל די געשיכטע פֿון װאַרשעװער געטאָ אין מײַן קורס פֿון דער ייִדישער קולטור־געשיכטע אין מזרח־אײראָפּע בײַם מישיגענער אוניװערסיטעט פֿרעגן אַ סך פֿון די סטודענטן: „פֿאַר װאָס האָט מען אונדז דאָס ניט דערצײלט אין אונדזערע קלאַסן װעגן דעם חורבן? דאָס איז אַזױ װיכטיק צו װיסן!“
עד־היום זעט מען אָפֿט מאָל די חורבן־געשיכטע דורך דעם שפּאַקטיװ פֿונעם מאַסנמאָרד. װלאַדקע מידס בוך אָבער, שרײַבט קאַסאָװ, „האָט דערװיזן, אַז איר קאַמף צו בלײַבן לעבן, אױף צו להכעיס אַלע שׂונאים, לייקנט אָפּ די סטערעאָטיפּישע טענה, אַז די ייִדן זײַנען פּאַסיװ געגאַנגען צו זײער אומקום.“
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5 more killed by Iranian missiles as shrapnel falls at Ben Gurion, curbing more flights
(JTA) — Five more people were killed overnight by Iranian missiles aimed at Israel: a man from Thailand in the country’s center, and four Palestinian women who had been preparing to break the Ramadan fast in their West Bank village. One was six months pregnant.
The deaths come as Iran has increasingly turned to cluster munitions, which break apart and shed smaller bombs along their path — making them much harder for Israel’s air defense systems to intercept.
Shrapnel from interceptions also fell at Ben Gurion Airport in recent days, damaging private planes and causing the airport authority to extend the cancelation of regular flights and limits on the number of people who can travel on “rescue flights” meant to allow travelers to leave and Israelis abroad to return. Several foreign carriers, including Delta and United, announced the cancellation of flights to and from Israel until at least June.
Nearly three weeks of fighting, launched jointly by the United States and Israel against Iran, have thrown the Middle East into turmoil and shocked the global economy. Under pressure over rising gas prices, U.S. President Donald Trump distanced himself early Thursday from an Israeli attack on an Iranian oil field, but in a post on Truth Social, he reserved the right to attack the site himself if Iran continued to target energy infrastructure elsewhere in the Middle East.
The developments come as questions mount about how long Israel can continue to intercept Iran’s ballistic missiles. Semafor reported this week that U.S. officials believe the Israelis are running low on interceptors, but Israeli authorities tamped down those concerns on Wednesday. A combination of increased use of cluster munitions and a shortage of interceptors would put Israelis at increased risk.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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West Bloomfield Iraqi Christians rushed to aid Temple Israel on a terrifying day. An open invitation for Shabbat followed.
Last week’s attempted attack on Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Michigan, prompted the Shenandoah Country Club across the street — which serves the town’s Iraqi Christian Chaldean community — to provide a refuge across cultural lines.
Staff turned a ballroom usually reserved for weddings into a reunification area. By the afternoon, 140 children from the Temple Israel day care center, who had no idea they were escaping a terror attack, were safe inside.
The next night, the same room filled again with refugees from Temple Israel. This time, the event space hosted 1,000 congregants gathered for Shabbat.
Shenandoah Country Club President Patrick Kattoo said when a staff member told him about a possible shooting across the street, “I instructed him to direct all those people into our building, into our ballroom, and immediately give them what they need.”
Kattoo proceeded to allow law enforcement to set up command centers at Shenandoah, as children and teachers sheltered in the ballroom for hours. Around 5 p.m., relieved families were reunited at the country club.
In true Iraqi fashion, Kattoo said the children were kept well fed. “It was Thursday, so our chef was here. We just brought them out chicken tenders and fries, M&Ms, waters, and drinks. There were infants here that were in diapers, and fortunately, we have diapers that we keep on hand.”
Once he arrived, Kattoo said Temple Israel community members were in “panic mode.” “There were just a lot of frightened children. And I’ll tell you one thing: Shenandoah will not stand to see frightened children.”
Around 40 more children and their teachers did not make it to the country club, and instead found safety in the home of a Chaldean neighbor.
Township Supervisor Jonathan Warshay recounted that Rabbi Paul Yedwab wondered, “you know, would he be holding funerals for these children? And then they learned where they were.”
Jewish community members expressed their deep gratitude for the Chaldean community.
Temple Israel rabbi Jason Bennett told the Forward, “They immediately sprang into action, everything from just giving us their space to baking cookies for the kids and creating an atmosphere where, at least for the children, it was safe and secure, and families could come and reconnect with their kids. It was a beautiful part of this tragic day to see children just shielded from everything.”
Some Temple Israel adults said that because of the bucolic environment at the country club, many of the children thought they had gone on a field trip.
Rabbi Bennett recounted hearing about one child recapping the day at bathtime: “The child said, ‘Well, I was so excited. I got to read a story, and then I did some art, and then I got to meet a police officer.’ That was her recounting, which is remarkable.”
‘It was really natural’
Chaldeans are Iraqi Christians who traditionally speak Aramaic, and Michigan has the largest population of Chaldeans outside of the Middle East.
The Chaldean community makes up 24% of West Bloomfield’s 65,000-person population. The Jewish and Chaldean communities have long shared a special relationship there, with joint youth programs, shared meals between community leaders, and parking lots often shared between Temple Israel and Shenandoah Country Club during large community events.
“Throughout my career, these last 32 years, they have been inextricably linked to the Jewish community,” said Bennett. He noted that in other difficult moments, the two communities have supported one another.
“We were together after 911 and supported each other. When Oct. 7 came, they came into our sanctuary, and their entire board was with us for our vigil service,” he recounted. “They brought a significant donation at that time to the Jewish community to help our emergency campaign for Israel. And so it was really natural when something like this happens, for them to be our partners.”
According to Chaldean community member Jibran Jim Manna, who was born in Baghdad, the love the Chaldean community has for Jews goes all the way back to Iraq. “Prior to us immigrating to the U.S., our neighbors were Jewish, and we loved them; they were good to us.”
He said the shared experience of being minorities forced to flee Iraq has shaped that bond. “They all had to get out of Iraq,” he said, “and we had to leave there too.” He added, “Some of us, like myself, think of ourselves as one of the lost tribes of Israel, because we are so close in culture.”
A Chaldean’s first Shabbat service
The day after the attempted attack, roughly 1,000 members of the Temple Israel community gathered in the Shenandoah Country Club ballroom for Shabbat services.
Kattoo said Temple Israel rabbis had told him on Thursday in the attack’s immediate aftermath that they had nowhere to hold services. The sanctuary had been badly damaged in the attack, in which the assailant’s vehicle had caught fire. “I said, ‘Well, our doors are open, you could do it here tomorrow,’” Kattoo recalled.
Bennett said that while Temple Israel had received multiple offers to host services, holding them at Shenandoah “felt like the natural fit, given the long-standing partnership and the role that they had played in that day.”
He added: “They set up for us, they welcomed people in, they partnered with police and law enforcement agencies, and we just had this magnificent gathering of 1,000 people to celebrate what had gone right.”
The rabbis were able to bring the “miraculously” recovered Torahs to the country club. But the temple’s prayer books had been destroyed, so the service was held without them.
The theme of the evening was honoring acts of heroism. According to Warshay, congregants “gave a standing ovation to the leaders of Shenandoah and to the security personnel.”
For Warshay, a highlight was seeing families together in the immediate aftermath of a traumatic event. “There were many families at the service, a lot of young children. We sort of heard them talking and playing around,” he said, adding, “It was quite emotional.”
Kattoo said as congregants entered the ballroom for services, he “greeted every single one of them,” then stayed as the community joined in prayer.
“I don’t speak Hebrew,” he said, laughing. “But you know, I thought it was a beautiful service. I learned something. It’s beautiful to see that they have their community gather every single week on a Friday. To me, it’s unbelievable. It’s my first Shabbat service I’ve ever seen in my life.” He added, “I kind of wish we did that once a week.”
According to Kattoo, the outpouring of thanks from the Jewish community has been overwhelming. “Their gratitude was beyond what I could expect.”
While Temple Israel is in the process of moving services to the Berman Theater at the local JCC, Kattoo said his offer to host Shabbat services still stands: “If the banquet hall is available, I’ve told them it’s more than theirs.”
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