The last time Shai Van Gelder played softball, he and a few of his buddies in the Israel Defense Forces were swatting at spent cartridge shells with long squeegee sticks.
That was months ago in Hebron. So when the 22-year-old — on leave from the IDF until the end of the month — laced a single to right in a softball match between South Peninsula religious leaders and their congregants, he almost floated to first base. It was a gloriously sunny day in Palo Alto and he had nary a care in the world.
The Sunday, May 6 game, the brainchild of Peninsula rabbis and the Palo Alto JCC, could not have been played under better conditions —the prayers of a team of rabbis and a team of temple-goers were obviously answered. The game, scheduled to start at 3 p.m., got under way “on Jewish time” at 3:30 — sharp.
“We’ve got time to daven mincha, just let me know,” shouted Congregation Beth Am’s Rabbi Josh Zweiback through the chain-link fence at Palo Alto’s Greer Park moments before the first pitch.
Some of “The Jews” — the non-rabbi, cantor or educator team chose the most minimalist of nicknames — showed up with short shorts and tall socks reminiscent of the jaw-dropping 1976 Chicago White Sox eyesores. The “Aleph-Bases” on the other hand, displayed a little more sartorial pizzazz, sporting black-and-white uniform tops with XFL-style nicknames emblazoned on the back. But instead of “He Hate Me,” the rabbis wore “Ari 57” (Rabbi Ari Cartun of Etz Chayim is unafraid to reveal his age) “Yosef 770” (Rabbi Yosef Levin would like you to know Chabad headquarters is at 770 Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn) and “Yoshi 19” (Josh Zweiback’s three daughters were all born on the 19th day of the month on the Jewish calendar).
Meanwhile, Emek Beracha’s Rabbi Yitzchok Feldman was handed a uniform reading “Yitchoch.” He has been promised another.
Juggling a lineup more bloated than the PLO payroll was a challenge Jews manager David Waksberg handled with aplomb; a stunning 42 players swung a bat for his club. Making his job even more difficult, an alarming number of his players couldn’t remember Jose Mesa’s meltdown in the 1995 World Series — because they weren’t born yet.
If you were lucky, you got to bat twice and, thankfully, no adolescents were trampled underfoot.
Once the game was under way, it was apparent that the skill levels on both teams varied from “Does my auto insurance cover a softball through the windshield?” to “Hold the bat at the skinny end and run when you hit the ball.”
Your humble narrator, who last swung a bat during the Clinton administration, hit two meek fly balls that should have been caught — but weren’t — and scored a run. The lesson for you kids at home: Always run it out.
And while it was a disadvantage during the game itself, Peninsula congregants can be proud that their rabbis definitely know their softballs from their matzah balls. Shelley Lewis, the rabbi emeritus at Kol Emeth and son of a minor league ballplayer, played a decent hot corner and drove in a run before tweaking his leg in the game’s (inevitable) first injury.
His sons, Avinoam and Akiva, also struck the ball well.
Southpaw first basewoman Rabbi Sarah Graff, also of Kol Emeth, enjoyed a perfect day at the plate. She is only two inches shorter than San Francisco Giants’ first baseman Rich Aurilia, but knows much more about the Torah.
Finally, Cartun’s two-run double put the game away for the rabbinical side. The burly powerhouse belied his 57 years and roped one to left center field (although he later sullied his white uniform after stumbling and falling between second and third). Despite a last-inning rally, the Jews fell to the rabbis, 10-7.
After the seventh inning, the organizers said, “Let there be kosher barbecue,” and, lo, there was.