My Top Ten Toronto Sporting Moments of the Decade

The decade is coming to a merciful end and believe it or not, that means people have a deep-seated compulsion to create lists.

I marvel at these best of/worst of lists mostly because I honestly can't remember a single movie or television show that I watched back in 2010 that would provide any relevancy to anybody today. I can't even remember what I watched last week so why would I pretend to find hidden understanding and share some perceptive insight into what I thought about The Leftovers, Fleabag, or Killing Eve, shows I watched several years ago but can't recall enough details about to make a list worthwhile. So, an end of decade list of TV shows or movies was dismissed by me out of hand.

I did, however, give some thought to the best of Toronto sports experiences of this past decade. There are several reasons for my compiling this list.

1. Toronto is traditionally a really sucky place to be a sports fan. We spend more time than almost any other city in North America yelling "Wait until next year", and frankly it gets old fast. But, this decade has been different and offered not just hope, but extended periods of actual ebullience. I felt it was time, as a long-suffering Toronto sports fan, to offer up some real remembrance of the thrill of victory rather than of the agony of defeat.

2. Sports bring people of all types together in a common pursuit. Over the last ten years, Toronto has seen the rise of collective cheering locales like Maple Leaf Square and Jurassic Park; places where dedicated and devoted fans can come together and cheer or commiserate with total strangers. Even regular-season games have become community events like no other, and they have brought a diverse city together for something tremendously positive.

3. There has been so much shit in these teen years of the twenty-first century that a bit of reliving the good and exciting can't be a bad thing.

And so, without further delay, I offer up Toronto's Best Sporting Moments of the Past Decade.

10. The Toronto Raptors hire Masai Ujiri (2014) I should say they re-hired him as he had previously been employed by the team as a backroom employee but after a stint with the Denver Nuggets, the Raptors brought him back to be their general manager and now president. His steady hand and clever signings and trades have made the Raptors....well....we will get to that soon. Basketball has become a city-wide phenomenon in a traditional hockey town and most of that is due to Ujiri, his youth outreach, involvement with the community, and basketball acumen. Suffice it to say, that without Ujiri, 2019 doesn't happen for the purple dinos.

9. The Toronto Maple Leafs hire Brendan Shanahan (2014) It was almost as if MLSE had an epiphany in 2014 and realized that losing really does suck so let's bring on the experts to run the joint. Hall of Famer Shanahan finally returned home to run a miserable Leafs team that was going nowhere under Brian Burke. He had a plan, a Shanaplan, to lift the Buds out of obscurity and return them to prominence. He re-engaged with the fans, the alumni, and the city. He finally retired the appropriate sweaters and brought back the history. He spoke straight to the fans when he promised pain before glory and the city has, for the most part, bought into it. No Cups yet but a little luck of the Irish didn't hurt him when he won the draft lottery and was able to select...

8. The Toronto Maple Leafs select Auston Matthews (2016) In the history of the draft, the Leafs had only one other first overall pick, Wendell Clark. The ability to select a powerful centre and goal-scoring savant has accelerated the Shanaplan by several years. The Leafs made the playoffs in Matthews' rookie season and the city went wild. He isn't there yet, but the man can flat out play and his presence, along with those of the flying kids Mitchell Marner, William Nylander, and goalie Frederic Andersen have made the Leafs contenders. Their defence is still suspect and they take too many periods off, but these kids can play. It also didn't hurt that the growth of the younguns led to...

7. The Toronto Maple Leafs sign free agent John Tavares (2018) It is very rare that a player of Tavares' calibre becomes a free agent in the prime of their career. It is even rarer that a Toronto boy wants to come home and play for the Leafs, so when Tavares signed in the summer of 2018, the city was incredulous. In his first season for the Blue and White, he scored 47 goals and became the stabilizing force in the dressing room they needed. It wasn't a surprise when he was named team captain this fall. It would be delirium and bedlam in the city if Tavares ever gets to hoist Lord Stanley wearing the Leaf on his chest.

6. The Toronto FC wins the MLS Championship (2017) I am not much of a soccer fan but I am gradually learning the game. The fanbase in our city is robust and devoted. Thousands show up for every game at BMO field and they went absolutely apeshit when they won the championship. The Toronto Argos won two Grey Cups in this decade and could only wish they had half of the people show up to their games as does FC.

5. The Toronto Blue Jays trade for Josh Donaldson (2014) This was a good old-fashioned baseball trade. The Jays traded Brett Lawrie, Kendall Graveman, Sean Nolin, and Franklin Barreto to the Oakland A's for the power-hitting third baseman. Donaldson slotted seamlessly into the number two spot in the lineup, ahead of Jose Bautista and Edwin Encarnacion and created magic. He promised the rain and he brought it. The Jays added a few more pieces at mid-season that propelled them to the AL East title (Troy Tulowitzki, anyone?) but it was the acquisition of Donaldson that was the catalyst. His 2015 season won him the league MVP and his four years in Toronto are amongst the best in team history.

4. Bianca Andreescu wins the United States Open (2019) Ok, technically she is from Thornhill via Mississagua but we will claim her anyway. The nineteen-year-old phenom has had a year to remember. She not only beat the legendary Serena Williams to claim her first grand slam title but she also won two other important titles this year, including the Canadian Open. She is the first Canadian to win her home country tournament in fifty years. She has risen to number four in the rankings, the highest ever for a Canadian tennis player of either sex and she just won the Lou Marsh Trophy (Canadian athlete of the year) unanimously. Not bad for a girl not yet out of her teens.

3. The Toronto Raptors trade for Kawhi Leonard (2018) This trade was franchise-defining. Not only did the Raptors not know if the Kawhi they were trading for was fully healthy but they traded the face of their team, DeMar DeRozen, to get him. They also knew that they were probably getting a "one and done" season out of their newly acquired superstar but took the risk and hoped for a big payoff. Masai Ujiri had balls of steel to make that trade and it was the biggest deal of the decade for any Toronto sports franchise.

2. This (2015)



I went back and forth for an hour trying to decide between this iconic moment and number one but what clinched it for me was that this led to the Jays moving on to the ALCS and they ultimately lost that series to Kansas City. That said, you have to remember what happened just before Bautista hit this bomb. There was that weird-ass play in the top of the inning where Russell Martin messed up. With two outs in the seventh inning and the game tied at 2, Rangers second baseman Rougned Odor led off third. Texas right fielder Shin-Soo Choo, a left-handed hitter, faced Toronto reliever, Aaron Sanchez. Choo took a 1-2 fastball for a ball and, as baseball’s new speed-up-the-game rules mandate, stayed in the batter’s box. Harmless stuff. Choo did, however, tilt his bat and his hands back over the plate just as Martin lobbed the ball back to Sanchez. Martin’s toss hit Choo’s bat. It squirted toward third base. Odor came home with the go-ahead run. The game was delayed for twenty minutes while the umpires tried to sort out the mess. The Dome went nuts when Odor was awarded home, so Bautista's 3-run shot was clutch and has to be framed in the context of the mess that happened before. It would have been my number one until this happened.

1. This (2019)



This was the most unbelievable shot I have ever seen. That it was game seven in the second round and wasn't even what won them their championship, speaks volumes as to how important it was. Murals are still up around the city depicting it. The Raptors winning the first major sports championship in Toronto in twenty-six years was the icing on a delicious sporting decade. The city came out by the millions to fete their heroes. (I know. I was in the middle of the parade throng.)  There were few hard feelings when Kawhi bolted back to L.A. to play for his hometown Clippers. He did as promised. He made our city feel whole again for a brief moment in time.

This photo will go down in Toronto sporting lore for all time. This is how we show our love up north. (Photo by Frank Gunn of Associated Press)

Happy new sporting decade, Toronto. Let's hope it's even half as exciting as the last one.

Random Thinks for a Slumbering July Day

I have been resisting the very real temptation to wail relentlessly on the ridiculousness of the summer's moribund news cycle, but my willpower is for shit and I simply must call out bullshit when bullshit is so very obvious.

• For all of my American friends who are caught up in the summer's most watched reality show starring The Donald, please take some heartfelt and battle-scarred advice from a Torontonian who (barely) survived Rob Ford....this too shall pass. It will get much worse before it gets better, but eventually the media will tire of the circus and they will deprive the asshole of the oxygen so very necessary for his survival. The one thing that you cannot do under any circumstances, is write him off as a joke. He is arrogant, outrageous, racist, obnoxious, self-serving, and mean. But because he is rich and famous, he demands serious attention. Money talks. There is a large swath of disaffected and disenfranchised people all over the country who have been itching for someone like Trump to lend credence to their creepy concerns, and he is just the narcissist to give them what they want. His entire raison-d'etre is to shake up the Republican race and he is doing exactly what he set out to do. He is wholly ill-equipped to lead an ant farm, let alone a country, but the continuous coverage and his massive celebrity will guarantee him several more months of trash-talking. Believe me...I feel your pain.
• For all of my Canadian friends who are basking in the pre-election nonsensical glow that has invaded our collective subconscious, I offer a passionate word of warning. For any of you who think that this Prime Minister and his corrupt band of merry men have been rocked to their core and are going down this October, think again. The demographics are simply not favouring the progressives.....yet. Redrawn electoral districts, a reinvigorated Bloc that is challenging the NDP in Quebec, angst for the Liberals in Atlantic Canada, a still huge Tory stronghold in Alberta that will not be swayed by the provincial election results, all have conspired to keep Sweatered Stevie not only competitive, but even hovering around yet another (gasp!) majority. Combine that with the graft checks coming this week, the despicable attack ads playing ad nauseum, and a very weak Liberal leader, and you have all the makings of another five year nightmare. All is certainly not lost, however. If Canadians truly want change this fall, we simply must do better than 60% turnout at the polls. Voting is the only way to disrupt the narrative, so get to work my fellow Canucks and let's turf this venal asshole.
• It is really difficult to get worked up about the hacking scandal at Ashley Madison. Believe me, I get it. Internet privacy is a real issue and should be on everybody's radar, but how can one not feel a certain amount of schadenfreude watching a business that is actually complicit in helping people hide their bad behaviour, being called out for their own? I think that the funniest thing I heard yesterday was how millions of marriages may be in jeopardy because of these "hacktivists". Really? That's why these marriages are in trouble? That's like saying that broccoli sales are suffering because I ate cauliflower today.
• Bill Cosby is a scumbag. There is no defense left anywhere for anybody trying to rationalize his actions. I'm sad. Not for my distorted childhood memories of comedy, but for the scores of traumatized women who have been left in his abusive wake. I never again want to be reminded of this man.
• My city is in party mode because of the PanAm Games and it has been a blast, but let's be somewhat realistic. Most Torontonians couldn't have cared less about these games up until a week ago, and even then most were fairly pissy about the cost overruns, construction messes, traffic issues, and political pandering. The idea that this city would even entertain the idea of an Olympic bid is pure folly. It is true that my hometown rarely gets anything accomplished without the threat of a major deadline hanging over our heads like the Sword of Damocles, but this is also a city that fought tooth and nail for years over a few pink umbrellas at Sugar Beach. There simply is not enough political will or political capital to expend on a billion dollar boondoggle like the Olympics, so just forget it. Not happening!
• And while we're on the subject of these sporting events, can I just call out the bullshit that is beach volleyball. Why do the men get to wear gym shorts and tank tops while the women are dressed in sports bras and bathing suit bottoms? On a cool rainy day last week, I actually saw the women clad head to toe in black bodysuits with their sports bras overtop. This shit just plays into the entire Serena Williams body discussion. When are we going to take women's sports seriously and not focus on their appearance over their abilities? Please...I don't want to hear one single snide remark from anybody about how smart the marketing is for this sport. When the men show up for their matches topless and in Speedos, we can discuss the marketing plan. Until then, it is just plain sexist nonsense designed to titillate.

Ok. Rant over for today. I feel much better now, do you?

It's That Time of Year

It is Michigan week.

That strange and extraordinarily barbaric time of year when decent, hard-working, God-fearing people residing in the usually bucolic midwestern utopia of Ohio, transmute into maize and blue flesh eating zombies ready to attack at the mere mention of that state to the north. Last year I remarked on my conversion to all things Ohio State football which came about as a direct result of Younger Son's insistence on dating a Buckeye.

Since Younger Son and His B'shert (a much better handle, don't you think?) have finally put a ring on it, there is an even more heightened sense of involvement this year. I have come to the realization that no matter how hard I try to fight it, the annual Ohio State/Michigan gridiron apocalypse is now a deeply ingrained part of my family's psyche.

Last week when the young couple were here visiting, the OSU/Indiana massacre was on. (42-14, but the score was much closer than the actual game.) Now, I am no neophyte when it comes to football. I am intimately familiar with formations, nickel defences, draw plays, and the like and I have made it my business to better acquaint myself with some of the minutiae of Urban Meyer's program. Family harmony, don't ya know. Well....in the interest of carrying on a cogent football conversation, I made some crucial errors according to Younger Son's B'shert.

When I remarked that both teams used red in their school colours and that the stadium was awash in hues of gladiator blood, I was told in no uncertain terms that Indiana wears a much more feminine crimson while The Buckeyes are proudly adorned in warrior scarlet. Check out the difference.

Scarlet

Crimson

Who knew?

But my real trouble began when I did the unthinkable. I questioned Saint Braxton Miller's throwing motion. The football fan in me couldn't help myself. (My mind was shouting SHUT UP DAWN even as my mouth was spewing the words.) During a series when OSU was moving the ball at will against the porous Hoosier D, I noted that the speedy quarterback (and this guy is really really really fast!!) flung the ball sidearm on a number of occasions. And then...I did something even more stupid. I actually had the audacity to suggest that perhaps,  just perhaps, this hitch in his arm could be compared to another Meyer protege....Tim Tebow (Oh the horror!) and that his future in the NFL might be in question. Audible gasps!! 

Well. You'd have thought that the entire state was mobilizing with pitchforks at my door. I was accused of not being a true fan and that I knew nothing about the game because Meyer is a genius. After all, how many national championship rings am I wearing?

Because I adore my future daughter-in-law and her parents, and because no football game is worth the price of familial peace, here is my mea culpa. 

You were right and I was wrong. There is no football program in all the land that can compare with The Ohio State University. There are no flaws, no gaffes, no hitches, and no coach who can even compare with the brilliant Urban Meyer. Braxton is a god who defies description and, really who even cares about his pro future as long as he leads us to victory this weekend against those weasels to the north. I promise to proudly adorn myself in scarlet and grey on Saturday and to scream so loudly that my neighbours might have to report me to the cops.

Are we good?

And by the way...it's Tuesday and Michigan still sucks. 

Shalom Bayit

We Jews will do a lot for Shalom Bayit. Literally translated as "peace in the home", Shalom Bayit is more about maintaining a happy and tranquil family life; not wanting to upset those whom we love with unnecessary aggravation. The Husband might define it as "happy wife, happy life". I, on the other hand, have recently come to fully understand that the authentic manifestation of Shalom Bayit is really all about which way one swings on the pendulum that is the Ohio State/ Michigan football game.

You see, Younger Son's Young Lady is a born and bred, died in the wool, Ohio State Buckeye legacy. I should have realized that this allegiance wasn't run of the mill fandom, when I began to take note of a drastic change in Younger Son's wardrobe. Where NFTY and camp items used to   take up shelf space in his closet, they were fast being replaced by OSU sweatshirts, t-shirts, pendants and scarves. This boy is no fool. Shalom Bayit!! But when he made a nine hour car trip a few years back down south to Columbus for the annual Michigan game, I knew that this wasn't ordinary team fanaticism.

Look, I am a sports person. A Leaf fan who hates Les Canadiens with a passion so strong there is a visceral ache in my belly. The Yankees? They get booed no matter who else is on the field. I mean, I rooted for the Diamondbacks in the series right after 9/11. That's true team hatred. But I have never seen anything like the neurotic, all consuming, complex mania that is Ohio State football. And during Michigan week? Well, suffice it to say that wearing blue this week around The Young Lady is an invitation to excommunication. Shalom Bayit!

In order to fully understand the nuances of this extreme sporting rivalry, I have spent the past few days immersing myself in the culture of one of the longest and perhaps most hateful feuds in all of athletics. Here is a sampling of what I have learned and adopted all in the name of Shalom Bayit!

• The Ohio State/Michigan football game goes back to their inaugural meeting in 1897. It predates the World Series by six years and the formation of the National Football League by over twenty. This isn't just hate. This is your great-grandfather's hate!
• Ohio State isn't merely Ohio State. They are officially known as The Ohio State University. I thought that sounded somewhat pretentious. Of course, I was wrong. There is actually a history as to why this is so, and it has to do with state legislation and renaming the school. The long and the short of it....never insult the Buckeyes by leaving the "The" out of their official school moniker. And pretension? That is something left to that school to the north.
• Which brings me to Woody and Bo. I stupidly thought that Mr. Allen was making a new film starring the Obama's dog, when in fact they were the legendary coaches on both sides who engaged in what is commonly referred to as the "10 Year War"; or as we normal human beings like to call it, "The 70s". Woody Hayes, the slightly insane but beloved coach at OSU, and Bo Schembechler, the equally nuts and paranoid head guy at Michigan, engaged in a battle royal over this decade. One school or the other either won or shared in the Big Ten Championship every single year, and usually both placed in the national rankings. No other game on the schedule mattered. Everything was (and still is) geared toward beating the shit out of the other. When Woody's boys lost one season, he had a rug made with the score emblazoned upon it. Every day his team would stomp on that rug as motivation so that the following season, they would understand the "game" and kick the crap out of the Wolverines. Woody was so immersed in his hatred for Michigan, that he refused to utter the state name, always referring to it as that school or place to the north. There is local legend telling of a road trip through the state when Woody ran out of gas. He famously stated that he would rather push the car on fumes back over the state line rather than fill up in Michigan. Now that's hate!
• I am now a devotee of TBDBITL!!
• Urban Meyer isn't a neighbourhood in Cleveland, but rather the current head coach of the Buckeyes.
• What the f*** is a Buckeye anyway? Well, a Buckeye is a small, shiny, dark brown nut with a light tan patch that comes from the official state tree of Ohio, the buckeye tree. According to Michigan fans "they are hairless nuts", but those are just the jealous rantings of those that are less academically endowed. According to folklore, the Buckeye resembles the eye of a deer and carrying one brings good luck. 

• Scarlett and grey are much more appropriate choices for my colour palette than maize and blue. Apparently, I look really crappy in blue, and yellow is never a good idea, but red seriously sets off my skin tones.
• This is a rivalry that isn't merely about school spirit. This is about hate. Passionate, visceral, "Hatfields vs McCoys"-style hatred. A sampling. 

Q: Why did Michigan change their field from grass to artificial turf?

A: To keep the Michigan cheerleaders from grazing at half time.

or....


One day in an elementary school in Ann Arbor Michigan, a teacher asks her class if the Michigan Wolverines are their favorite football team. The whole class says yes except for Little Jimmy.

The teacher asks, "What's your favorite football team Jimmy?"

Little Jimmy says, "The Ohio State Buckeyes."

The teacher asks, "Well, why is that?"

Little Jimmy says, "Well, my dad is a Buckeye fan, my mom is a Buckeye fan, I guess that makes me a Buckeye fan."

The teacher angered by his reply says, "If your dad was a moron and your mom was an idiot what would that make you?"

Little Jimmy says, "Well, I guess that would make me a Michigan fan."

or...how about this from ESPN


This week my Facebook timeline has been taken over by rabid Ohio State fans. I have seen lunacy in action. Did you know that as of this writing it is 9:41 am and Michigan still sucks? But I have learned my lessons well and even though my degree isn't from THE Ohio State University, I will be rooting hard for the Buckeyes this Saturday afternoon in their quest for an unbeaten season, gold pants, and bragging rights for the next 365 days....all in the name of Shalom Bayit!

Speed it Up Already!

It is one of the remarkable experiences of aging that when we are young we wish that time would hurry up and when we get there we often wish that it would slow down. I hear it all the time. "Where did this year go?" or "Boy how time has flown." We are inundated with platitudes like "Stop and smell the roses" and frankly, for the most part I am with them. I am living the cliches. It really does seem like yesterday that I was changing diapers and now I look up to grown men. I ache more in the morning, am continually devising clever ways to cover my greying roots and creviced laugh lines, and I definitely struggle harder to keep off the winter layer of insulation. Thirty years has passed and honestly I hardly noticed. I wish like most of us that I could have lived it in slow motion. At least I have the highlight reel of videos and photographs.

But then there are the times that I honestly wish I could speed up the universe. These are the times when I don't want to live in the moment, but rather get past it all as quickly as possible so that I can move onto the more important things that life has to offer-like the roses!

• I absolutely loathe standing in line at the check-out counter at the grocery store. In fairness, some stores have figured out how to streamline the experience with automated computer check outs and easy to carry storage bins instead of grocery bags, but all in all the entire escapade is an exercise in wasted time. I hate it when cashiers examine my purchases. "Oh cool-Tempe! How do you cook that?" I hate the cashier who seems to think that I have all day to watch her pack my bags. I hate it when customers in front of me act stunned when they realize that they actually have to pay for their purchases and suddenly go rooting around in their pockets or purses for exact change. I hate the coupon clipper who probably spent $5.00 in gasoline to drive to the store in order to save .05¢ on their purchase. Speed it up already and let me get on with my life.
• Do political campaigns really need to drag on for as long as they do? The Republican contenders for the presidential nomination will spend up to two years, millions of dollars, endless debates, thousands of robo-calls, and a lot of wasted oxygen in order to be anointed the last person standing to challenge President Obama. Given the low level of talent available in this clown car, it might be quicker if they all just thumb-wrestled each other with a "winner take all" scenario prevailing. I can't imagine a greater waste of time. Get on with it already and let us all get on with our lives.
• Do you know anybody who says to their dentist "Please slow down so that I might embrace this moment?" How about to their physicians during a particularly invasive examination? No I think that these are certainly times that could use a little kick in the ass.
• Don't you hate it when driving home late at night, you are the only vehicle at the stoplight and the damn thing takes forever to turn green? Don't tell me that you haven't at least have been tempted to run the red. Why can't the city better time these intersections at off-hours so that one doesn't have to wait for what seems like an eternity all the while burning precious gasoline and life moments? Hurry up already.
• There are two minutes left in the game and your team is up by 1. The other team is coming on like gangbusters, shots and bodies are flying everywhere, your heart is racing at such a dangerously high pace that it feels explosive inside your chest cavity, and yet the seconds tick down as if they were hours. If ever we wanted time to disappear, it is during these incidents. I mean, really. How is it possible for anybody to score a goal in 0.1 seconds? Get with it!

Intellectually I know that time passes at the same rate every day, every year. It is all in our perceptions of events that dictates whether it is passing quickly or slowly. We want to savour the extraordinary and bypass the mundane. I suppose that the answer to the conundrum of this temporal tempest is to recognize when the mundane is actually extraordinary and when the extraordinary is merely mundane. Maybe then we won't feel as though our lives are wasted or passing us by.

Regrets

I watch a wonderful show on CBC call "Being Erica". (My American friends can find it on the soon to be defunct Soapnet or somewhere on the wondrous internet.) The basic premise of the show is this: Young thirty-something Erica Strange is adrift. She cannot get settled in her career, her relationships, or put her family traumas behind her. Enter the mystical Dr. Tom, the wise and welcoming time-bending therapist. Using a power that only Einstein could comprehend, he sends Erica back to various points in her life where she wishes that she had handled the situations differently. Her regrets. It is kind of like a temporal taco, where one end of time just touches another and allows Erica to see how her actions have affected others. A sort of moment mulligan. The idea is that once Erica sees the consequences of her actions and attempts to rectify the situations, she can move forward into the next phase of her life.

I wonder if Joe Paterno wishes he were Erica Strange today?

JoePa, as he was affectionately known, was until last evening the legendary football coach of the Penn State Nittany Lions. Last night he was justifiably fired after 46 years for his gross inaction and negligence in the wake of the massive sex-abuse scandal involving a former assistant coach enveloping his beloved campus. To be absolutely clear-the coach did not abuse any child, witness the abuse, nor his he charged with anything. Instead, his is a sin of inaction. When another assistant informed the coach in 2002 that he was a witness to "something inappropriate" between this other coach and a ten year old boy, Coach Paterno sat on the information for a period of time. When he finally did get around to speaking of the incident with university officials, it was buried so deep in paper that while the alleged offender was no longer employed by the football team, he was still allowed to bring young boys into the locker room and he was allowed to continue his work with a charity whereby he rewarded children with "special visits" to Happy Valley. (This is what the campus at Penn State is called. It sounds so disgustingly dirty now!) There are at least eight alleged victims and who knows how many more will come forward. Yesterday afternoon in a half-hearted attempt to salvage his legacy, Paterno announced that he would retire at the end of the current season. Last night the university board put him out of his misery and fired him immediately.

At best Joe Paterno's silence is troubling. At worst he was complicit. I cannot begin to understand the mindset that allows somebody to stand idly by while crime and injustice is occurring. Judaism is explicit on the subject. Aaron Kirschenbaum a professor of Jewish Law at Tel Aviv University states:

"In Judaism, the bystander's duty to come to the rescue of his fellow man who is in peril is religious, ethical and legal. A citizen is expected to engage in the act of rescue both personally and with his financial resources. He is required, however, neither to give his life nor to place his life in substantial jeopardy to save his fellow."

Maimonides went further.

If one person is able to save another and does not save him, he transgresses the commandment neither shalt thou stand idly by the blood of thy neighbor (Leviticus 19:16). Similarly, if one person sees another drowning in the sea, or being attacked by bandits, or being attacked by wild animals, and, although able to rescue him either alone or by hiring others, does not rescue him; or if one hears heathens or informers plotting evil against another or laying a trap for him and does not call it to the other's attention and let him know; or if one knows that a heathen or a violent person is going to attack another and although able to appease him on behalf of the other and make him change his mind, he does not do so; or if one acts in any similar way - he transgresses in each case the injunction, neither shalt thou stand idly by the blood of thy neighbor...

It is interesting that yesterday and today we are recalling the anniversary of Kristallnacht. On these days in 1938 many ordinary Germans stood idly by as Jewish homes, businesses, and synagogues were ransacked and destroyed in one of the most public displays of Jewish persecution by the Nazis, and it is widely viewed as the beginning of the Holocaust. Joe Paterno and the officials that stood with him at Penn State are no better than any of those who stood idly by and watched innocents suffer at the hands of tyrants.

We don't get do-overs in life. It might be fun to watch the fiction on television, but reality is what it is. We all must live with the consequences of our actions or inactions. Joe Paterno may have regrets this morning, but they pale in comparison to those of the real victims-the violated children.

Jews, Baseball, and Yom Kippur

Every Jewish person I know, knows the Sandy Koufax/Kol Nidre story. It has become part our collective folklore and heritage. In 1965, Koufax refused to pitch Game 1 of the World Series because it fell onYom Kippur. The Dodgers started Don Drysdale instead of their ace and the results were less than pretty. The boys in blue fell 8-2 to the Minnesota Twins while Drysdale gave up 7 runs in 2 2/3 innings, famously remarking to manager Walter Alston , "I bet right now you wish I was Jewish too!"

Jews and baseball. Quite the conundrum. In 1934, Hank Greenberg the hard-hitting first baseman for the Detroit Tigers faced a similar dilemma as to whether to play on yontif. 

The Detroit media, aware of Greenberg's indecision, sought out the opinions of local rabbis, with the Detroit News running a headline saying "Talmud Clears Greenberg for Holiday Play."

"The team was fighting for first place," wrote Greenberg in his autobiography, "and I was probably the only batter in the lineup who was not in a slump. But in the Jewish religion, it is traditional that one observe the holiday solemnly, with prayer…. I wasn't sure what to do."

Greenberg skipped batting practice that day, thought some more, and finally chose to take the field. He hit two home runs to lead the Tigers to a 2-1 victory.

The next day, the Detroit Free Press ran a banner headline, in Hebrew, that read "Happy New Year, Hank," Also in the Free Press, an Edgar Guest poem celebrated Greenberg's decision:

Came Yom Kippur -- holy fast day world wide over to the Jew, 

And Hank Greenberg to his teaching and the old tradition true 

Spent the day among his people and he didn't come to play.

Said Murphy to Mulrooney, 'We shall lose the game today! 

We shall miss him on the infield and shall miss him at the bat

          But true to his religion and I honor him for that.

More recently, Shawn Green of the Dodgers decided to sit out a pennant race game against the hated Giants that fell on Yom Kippur. But for every Koufax, Greenberg, and Green there are 10 players like Jason Marquis. Marquis, a Jewish 2-8 pitcher with a 6.60 ERA with the Washington Nationals, a team that has absolutely no playoff aspirations, plans to take his regular turn in the rotation this Friday evening-Kol Nidre. Says Marquis, “Your team expects you to do your job and not let your teammates down, and that’s the approach I take.” In fact, this is the approach that Mr. Marquis has taken in past seasons as well.

Now, I have never been one to to tell anybody how to practice or observe their religion. (My children may disagree with that statement, but I reserve the right of motherhood with them!) Religion is a personal matter better left between the individual and their God. If Jason Marquis wants to pitch on Yom Kippur, who am I or anybody else to tell him not to. I will suggest the following, however. When Jews choose to work or go to school on the holiest day of the year, it makes it that much more difficult for those of us who choose to observe the day in a religious manner to explain our choices to a secular audience. "If Jason can pitch, why can't you be here for class or in the office or.........."

I have heard all of the reasons. "I simply couldn't get out of it because I would be docked." or "They told me I would be in trouble." or "What difference does it make, I don't practice anyway." I get it. Your lives are important and your jobs are important. All that I am saying is that your decisions impact all of us who do observe.

A personal story. My paternal grandfather was a practicing atheist. Back in Poland, he had begun studies for the rabbinate, before deciding that it was all hooey for him and finally ran off to join the army. When he came to Canada he was a cultural Jew who had absolutely no interest in God or synagogue practice. It probably was the height of irony for him that his children and grandchildren became so involved. Every year on Yom Kippur my grandfather would insist that his family, including my father, dress in their best clothes. They would be scrubbed and clean and out of the house early, and then he would take them all to the movies for the entire day. They would sit through several features, just long enough for synagogues to conclude their final prayers and then they would return home. When asked why he engaged in this behaviour year after year, my grandfather would respond "I can't insult every other Jew on Yom Kippur just because I don't believe." That is how I feel about Jason Marquis and every other Jew who chooses to work on Yom Kippur.

There is a reason that we Jews so identify with what Sandy Koufax did. He was taking the stand for all of us that observe but, for some reason feel the need to justify it to our employers, our families and to ourselves. It is not easy being Jewish in a modern world. Sandy Koufax made it a bit easier. It will be interesting to see what other Jewish ballplayers choose to do this weekend. Kevin Youkilis, Ian Kinsler, Ryan Braun-are you listening?

A Cure for Insomnia

Please don't hate me sports fans. You know that I am truly one of you. I am the loyal idiot who has supported the hapless Maple Leafs through 40 some odd years of futility. I am the jerk who rises early on a Sunday morning in July to watch breakfast at Wimbledon. I can tell you who won this year's Indy 500, (Dario Franchitti) this year's Kentucky Derby, (Super Saver with jockey Calvin Borel in the saddle) and this year's Masters tournament (Phil Mickelson) without the benefit of the wiki links that I have courteously provided for all of you. I can argue the merits of the Roy Halladay trade vs keeping Cliff Lee in the Phillies rotation with the most devout of baseball fan, and I can hope against all reasonable hope that Sam Bradford is the answer that the Rams have been searching for under centre since the crazy decision to cut Kurt Warner in favour of Mark Bulger. I can quote you the rules of curling and I really do understand the muddle that is free agency. I watch the NFL and NHL drafts on television. Yes, I am a fanatic in the true definition of the word. So it truly pains me to discover that there is a sport that is more than a little bit uninteresting to me. I speak of course of the "beautiful game" that is the entire world's obsession--soccer.

I realize that I am in the minority with this opinion, and believe me when I tell you all that I have really tried to like this snoozefest of a game. Every four years, this undeniably multicultural city in which I reside becomes all atwitter at the mere mention of soccer's World Cup, this year being hosted in South Africa. Work stops when various nations are at play. Construction literally comes to a standstill in this city and productivity in the towers of Bay Street grinds to a halt as everybody crowds into bars or around their computer screens. Today, Little Italy in the midtown section of Toronto was packed with rabid fans cheering on their homeland heroes. (Given the tightrope that the Italians walked for most of the game, they almost had to give many of the patrons oxygen to avoid the inevitable hyper-ventilation!) Me? I decided early on this week that I would try to once again understand why watching these unquestionably superior athletes run around a pitch playing to an uneventful 1-1 draw was the least bit exciting. Whenever I have found myself at home for these early tournament games, I have turned on the HD and tried to watch. I have yet to make it through a half, let alone a full match. I usually doze several times throughout. Waiting for a goal can be torture and the subtleties of the game are lost on me as the commentators never explain the "action". These European play-by-play guys have about as much vitality and spice as Cheez Whiz! As if that weren't bad enough, the diving and bullshit writhing on the ground in pain is enough to earn several of these players Academy Awards. If that crap were to occur with the same frequency in hockey, some guy would find himself the recipient of a well-place elbow to the jaw!

This nonsense was on the front page of the Sunday New York Post. C'MON!!! IT WAS A TIE!! Sorry-a draw. This is what passes for excitement in the biggest tournament in the world? Yesterday Germany actually broke out for 4 goals against their obviously inferior opponent and it was considered a offensive juggernaut. For some perspective?  In 6 Stanley Cup games this year the Blackhawks and Flyers combined to score 47 goals. In 11 games as of this writing, a paltry 18 goals have been scored by 22 teams thus far. I have goosebumps just thinking about the the own goals and strange bounces.

I haven't yet found the hook that billions of others around the world have evidently discovered when it comes to this game. As a true sports fan I do believe it is my obligation to try, but I am quickly running out of patience. Well, at least there is music. I am seriously thinking of taking up the vuvuzela. What do you think of that as an accompanying instrument at Rosh Hashana? Tekiyah!!!