Terry Schiavo is Dead...

Damn, I missed her time of death in our pool by 3 days. How did she hold on for so long.

The Streak is Over

It was a thing of beauty while it lasted, but Jerusalem Pizza's shutout streak ended about 11 minutes into the first, when Chaos tied the game at 1 apiece. The shutout string totaled 89+ minutes of great goaltending, defense, and fire.

We came right back at them, in what was the chippiest game we have been involved in all season. Sticks were flying, tongues were wagging, and enough fuck yous were thrown around to keep a whorehouse busy all weekend long.

We quickly grabbed a 2-1 lead, then extended it until we led 5-1 midway in the second. They got one back, to bring them to within three, but we played well enough in the third period to win it 7-2.

SO we are 3-1, and a lot of people are looking at us as a legitimate team in our first season in the league. Next week is our first really big test. Bring on the Slackjaws.

The itch

The itch started in winter 2000. The second winter of 2000, not the first one in January and February, but the November December winter 2000. The Palestinian's began blowing up buses again with an alarming frequency, and Intifadah II was on. Ten months later, in the presumed safety of the United States, I watched with all the rest of the world as two planes crashed into the Manhattan skyline. (Yeah, I know there were two other crashes, but this is my story, dammit.)

As religious Jews we are taught from a very young age that everything in the world happens because of the Jewish people. What was the message that God was trying to send to us, though? Why was terrorism being exported to the U.S. Everyone can come to their own conclusions, but it struck me how important Jerusalem and Israel was to the Palestinians. It was important enough for them to die for. Human beings were willing to blow themselves up for a land that they believed was theirs. The very land that I believe I am entitled to by word of God.

But how much did I value that entitlement? I could move there whenever I wanted. I didn't have to blow myself up. All I needed to do was make a phone call and I could be living in Israel.

The message I took from the suicide bombers of 2001 and 2002 was that God wanted to show us how badly some people love Israel, and to force us to question the living choices we made. Then he brought us September 11th, a day that reminded us that no matter how safe we think we are, you really never know.

Of course, my wife took a different message from all this. Hers was the path of risk aversion. Stay away from Israel. Stay away from New York. If you have to go, get in, get out, and get back to your life (insert your own sex joke here).

We went to Israel 2003 for a few days, for a wedding, and my wife was on high vigilance the entire time we were there. She didn't quite kiss the tarmac when we landed in Detroit, but she sent out vibes.

In the months following that trip, my brother and sister both made the move, and shortly thereafter, my youngest brother married an Israeli and moved to Jerusalem as well.

We went to that wedding in November of 2004, and it was a completely different experience for us. The Matzav, as they call it, had calmed down. My wife actually felt comfortable and relaxed the entire time we were there. I didn't know it at the time, but she had reached a turning point in her feelings about moving to Israel.

The question had suddenly shifted to should we move to Israel one day to why shouldn't we live there. Snow fell around our car as we drove to Toronto two weeks ago, talking about making the move. Should we do it? There were old grandparents to think about, siblings and cousins and neices and nephews living here. Parents and inlaws that we were not certain if it was time for goodbye.

We talked it out. Those grandparents are part of the reason our parents never made the move. We asked ourselves if it made sense that the same people who stopped our parents from making Aliyah for 35 years should stop us as well.

The answer, we realized, was decidedly not. We need to look out for the best interests of our family, and in our opinion, the best place for our family is Israel.

We decided not to tell anyone about our decision, to just let it stew for a few days and see how it felt. It was a decision we were proud of.

But it was a decision that we could not make without discussing with our eight year old. Kids reach a certain age when Aliyah is no longer in their best interest. Ten minutes in town is all it takes to find a parent's broken dream, stoned, drunk, and wishing he was home in Brooklyn or Baltimore or a place where the world used to make sense.

Our five year old was excited. He has always talked about moving to Israel, being a soldier, and living in the land. But our eight year old was not happy. There were tear-filled days, long talks, and finally, he seemed to understand why we wanted to live in the land that Hashem promised Avrahom in Lech Lecha.

Not that he doesn't have concerns, but the move is something that he is willing to do.

So we are making plans, doing the research, and looking forward to the day when we will deplane at Lod and find ourselves home.

Our kids are school aged, which means a summer move. This summer is too close for us to make it, so we are planning on moving in the Summer of 2006.

Another Sober Purim...

...and other stories.

Purim went by uneventfully this year. We heard Megillah, delivered Shalach Manos, ate the Suedah, and had a good time. Mercifully, Casino Night came and went. Rumor has it that we may have broken even on the night.

And I started at Blue Care Network this morning. I did not remember what it was like to go to work, and have to stay there the whole day. I think my body started to go into shock around 2 PM, and i don't know how long it will take to recover. The contract is for 89 days. The work was mostly dull, but I guess it will pick up in a few days when the people I need to get information from show up to work.

We are going to New Jersey for the first days this year, then coming home for Chol HaMoed and the last days.

Cassandra Johnson from the Detroit Symphony Orchestra called tonight. We bought season tickets a few years ago, so we get calls all the time. I don't iknow what she was thinking though. When we had the season tickets, we sat way up in the cheap seats. Tonight she was tryiong to sell me two discounted tickets in a prime location that cost $2600 regularly but I could get for only $1400. I'd love to go, but for 9.99 I can download any classical music I want and burn it onto a disc, saving myself an additional $1390.01.

I don't know about how other people react to their own teams, but Jerusalem Pizza hockey is the focus of my life right now. Not just mine, everyone on the team's. Its all we talk about to each other, to other people, to strangers. Its what we think about when we wake up in the morning, and fall asleep dreaming about. Throughout the day, highlights play carrying us from a dreary day at work to the glory of the hockey rink.

Can you believe some idiots are willingly locking themselves out of the game. Stupid bastards.

Hey y'all

happy purim to all, and to all a happy purim

Thats 77:30 for those of you keeping track at home

77 minutes, 30 seconds of playing since Jerusalem Pizza gave up the game winning goal against Winning is Optional. Since then, all the team has done is posted a 4-0 win last week, followed by a 10-0 win agianst The Beers that was ended by the eight goal mercy rule after the second period.

So we are 2-1, after three games, and the team looks stronger and stronger every time that we play. Tonight we were short a man, but we didn't let it slow us down. We scored 5 in the first period, five more in the second including a short-handed goal, and the goal tending and defense played well enough to post our second straight shut out.

Next week, we play Chaos. I'll keep you posted. have an easy fast and a great Purim.

March Madness

For the third March in the past five years, I am moving jobs. The habit began in March 00, when I began working at Meridian Advertising on March 6 of that year. It was also the day i became buddies with my first real lesbian, a woman named Gigi. We started together, and together for a few years. It was mid march three years later that I left Meridian to work at Eye Travel. Two years have passed, and on March 28, I will take office space in Blue Care Network's southfield office, writing their manuals and ensuring that no one ever understands what Blue Care Network is talking about.

The interview went really well, and I had a good feeling about the position. They knew my salalry requirements going in, and when the intervewi went well, I thought I was in. Then came the waiting. And the negotiating. It went through my contracting agent, so i did not have to deal directly with the company, or I may have folded.

They said I was asking for too much money. I came down slightly, and then continued to wait. I told my agent if they tried to bring me down lower to tell them i wasn't that interested anymore, but it didn't come to that.

In the end, I got the job. Then I found out some of the back story.

I was going against someone with 20 years of experience who was asking for significantly less money. I don't know how people live on significantly less money, but this guy was going to take a chance at it, I guess. Even with the experience and the money in his favor, they still picked me.

So the good part is I got the job. Its a contract job, wihtout a specified contract length, but everyone expects it to last a minimum of three months and probably a lot longer.

If I was a betting man, I would put money on next March.

Discarded

Each year I write a Purim story. Loosely (ok, sometimes exactly) based on events in the shul or the people involved in the shul. This year, i began with thie following story. Unfortunately, its not very funny, so i need to discard it and write another story.

The key to the story, though, is the layout. It looks like a page of Gemara in the shape of an Absolut bottle, with multiple commentaries discussing the story.

My problem with releasing the story today is that it can be saved with proper commentaries. But I think the story needs to be rewritten, and so, my fellow bloggers, I present you with the first edition of Signs, the New Purim Story.

I have promised my fans (OK, the four people in shul who have been asking when this is coming out for the last month...you know who you are) that the 2005 Purim story will be coming out Tuesday, but it is going to have to be written from scratch, so feel free to read through the discarded story, post your comments, or just move along.

Have a happy Purim.

And so it was the Micha and Leslie were away from shul for the 127th shabbos in a row. And no one noticed that Leslie wasn’t there, since she rarely came to shul. But Micha was so tall and the lights reflected off his bald head, that everyone knew he wasn’t there. And the rabbi stood before the congregation and he said to them. Let it be known that as far as I am concerned, the United Torah Judaism can go to hell. For they have sold out Torah, and I have no patience for them. Not them, or their leader, the holy rav. And they are all hypocrites, and I would not want to be standing next to them in a rain storm, for there will be thunder and lightning, and the lightning will strike them. And the rabbi finished speaking, and most of the congregation awoke, and realized that since there was no one standing in the front of the shul, it must be time to Daven Mussaf. And so the people arose from their seat, and stood for Mussaf. And the Chazzan said Kaddish, and everyone who had heard the speech forgot about it.

And so it was the next day, at a place called Kollel, which was located less than 1 mile from the Young Israel of Oak Park. And a man stood their with a sign, and he hung up the sign. And the sign said, let it be known that there is a young rav in town who has no portion in the world to come. This young rav has called the holy rav a hypocrite. Let there never be anyone who questions the authority of the rav. And people saw the sign, and it was taken off the wall. But others saw the sign on the sink next to the bulletin board, and they hung it back up. And then it was taken down again. And so it went for the entire day, until finally it was torn up, and tossed in the trash. And the young rav heard about the sign, and he was chagrined.

The following Shabbat, the rabbi stood up in shul, before the congregation, and he said I was wrong. And the people who normally fell asleep when the rabbi began to speak stayed awake, for they wanted to hear what the rabbi was wrong about. And the rabbi continued. I should not have called the holy rav a hypocrite by name. Even if I believe that he is kicking the torah in the mud when he takes the government money, and has let us all down, I should not have said that, for if I continue to say such things, there will be a collection of rabbis who will ban everything that I write, and say that I am an Apikores, and there is no way to fight it, because there is no checks and balance system to ensure that our holy rabbis do not run amok and out of control.

And so it was, the week after the rabbi apologized, there were no signs saying that he had no portion in the world to come. And the Rabbi made another speech, and he said to his shul. members of the shul, we have a cancer here. We have a cancer that needs to be cut out. That cancer is Kiddush Club. And it is up to you to ban the club, and make the member feel unwelcome. but I will not ban Kiddush club, because I know that whoever tries to fight the Kiddush Club, needs to find a new job.

During that week, the young rav started to think, and he came up with a plan. He wrote in his shul newsletter that the sign writer was wrong. And he was a coward for not signing the sign. And there was another mini uproar, because in the newsletter, the young rabbi threatened to hang up a sign of his own. And the people who came to shul that week found a sign in shul. And the Young rav wrote, “Whoever has written the sign, let them meet me behind the shul parking lot, and I will kick your ass.” And the people in shul were very proud of there rav, who had taken a stand against the anonymous sign writer who was defending the voice of torah, which had run unchecked for quite some time.

That Shabbos, the kiddush club hatched a plan. They would give kiddush for the entire shul, and boost their popularity. And after davening, at the kiddush, which was given by the kiddush club, the rabbi would stand before the whole shul, and make kiddush. And the kiddush club would have legitimacy. And the rabbi would be defeated. And the kiddush club would go on. And so it was. And the Rabbi stood before the shul, and he made Kiddush at the Kiddush sponsored by the Kiddush Club. And the rabbi was upset, for he felt that he had been disrespected by the kiddush club, to which he was actually a dues-paying member.

And so it was the following Shabbos, when the rabbi stood before the whole shul and made kiddush. At the very kiddush that the kiddush club had given. The same kiddush club that he had tried to ban. But before he made Kiddush the rabbi issued another challenge. Let anyone who dares hang a sign against me meet me in the parking lot behind the shul. And let anyone who thinks that my making Kiddush here at the kiddush of the kiddush club that I have banned means that I endorse this kiddush club know that I do not endorse the club. Nor do i believe in the club. And if you want to take that up with me, I will meet you in the paring lot behind the shul too. And I will kick your ass also.

The next week at the Kollel, there was a new sign hanging up. And the sign said There is a young rav in town who said the word ass at a kiddush, and he was not talking about bilaams donkey. Nor was he talking about loading thy neighbors ass. Or the punishment of checking out thy neighbors ass. And that Young Rav should have no portion in the world to come. For he used profanity and it was in front of the whole shul. Including children. and women. For that rabbi is the leader of a congregation of sinners who willingly have kiddush in mixed company. With women there.

And the rabbi was perturbed, and vexed, by the anonymous sign hanger. And he put up another sign. And he wrote “the jackass who hung up the sign at the kollel should meet me on Casino Night. And I will have a hand of nothing but a pair of threes, and I will bluff you so that you lose. And the rabbi signed his sign with the name The Young Rav. And the Rabbi hung up the sign at Young Israel. And at the Kollel. And at every jewish establishment in the entire community. Including the Mikveh, in case it was a woman sign hanger. And he said if it was a woman, he would kick her ass too.

And so it was on Casino night. And despite all the planning and hard of the committee, there were 27 people there that night. And 23 were volunteers. And one was the Rabbi. And the rabbi knew that one of the other three people playing poker with him was the anonymous sign hanger upper. And so he decided to challenge them all, but they all denied it. So he said that he would play strip poker with them, and the loser would be the person he would beat up. And Gil was the dealer, and he did not like it one bit. But he dealt the cards, and after four hands, it was clear that the rabbi was going to lose all his clothes and his dignity. So Gil decided to save the rabbi his dignity, and claim to be the sign hanger. And the Rabbi took Gil out back, to savagely beat him up. And Gil let him do it, for the good of the shul, and the good of the community, and the good of the kiddush club.

And the next week, there was a new sign. And the new sign said that their would be no more signs, and that the Young Rav had beaten up the wrong person. And the Young Rav tore down the sign, and started to clean the shul for Pesach.

Sweetest Victory

Gametime was 9:30. The last game of the evening, and our first chance to show the league that we were not the same team that lost 7-6 seven days earlier.

The ride up to the game was loose, but focused. We talked about the game, line shifts, defensive alignments and offensive tactics. Diet and exercise that had been tailored for this day was discussed. A week had passed, but the bitter taste of losing stung our throats.

We needed to come out firing, grab the momentum, and take control of the game.

The first period was hard fought, and 4 minutes in, we scored to take a 1-0 lead. We controlled the play throughout the period, had other chances that we couldn't take advantage of, and when the horn blew, we clung to a 1-0 lead.

To a man we were determined not to let the gam get away. We fired shot after shot, peppering the Marklars netminder with everything we had, and by the time period 2 had ended, Jerusalem Pizza was 15 minutes away from victory with a narrow 2-0 lead.

No one needed to be reminded. but of courses, everyone said it. we had led 6-5 going into period three a wweek earlier, and fallen 7-6 when we went into a defenisve shell. Keep firing the puck, keep knocking them off the puck, don't give them any room to move. The game was intense, but we set the tone of the intensity, controlled the flow of the game, and never let them into it. A third goal midway through the period gave us a three goal advantage, a lead large eneough to prevent the clock from stopping when the play was whistled dead.

Two minutes to go, 3-0 lead. Focus on the game. Don't think shutout, just get in front of every puck that is fired, knock down every man that stands in front. The game is ours. don't let them steal it.

Timeout with 1:04 left. 64 ticks and we win. The goalie is pulled, and for the first time all night, they start to exhibit pressure on our defense. The puck comes loose, and I pick it up, carrying it over the line. My chance to score a goal to go along with my first period assist. I shoot, hit the post, and the rebound comes out to my teammate who buries it for a 4-0 lead.

They had one more chance to score. A flurry in front of our net, but a save and a wide shot, and Jerusalem Pizza had our first win of the season, 4-0. The first shutout in the league this year.

So we pull ourselves up to 1-1, Next week we play the 0-2 Beers, who are looking for a chance to salvage their season.

But we will be ready, I gaurantee it.

Sweetest Victory

Gametime was 9:30. The last game of the evening, and our first chance to show the league that we were not the same team that lost 7-6 seven days earlier.

The ride up to the game was loose, but focused. We talked about the game, line shifts, defensive alignments and offensive tactics. Diet and exercise that had been tailored for this day was discussed. A week had passed, but the bitter taste of losing stung our throats.

We needed to come out firing, grab the momentum, and take control of the game.

The first period was hard fought, and 4 minutes in, we scored to take a 1-0 lead. We controlled the play throughout the period, had other chances that we couldn't take advantage of, and when the horn blew, we clung to a 1-0 lead.

To a man we were determined not to let the gam get away. We fired shot after shot, peppering the Marklars netminder with everything we had, and by the time period 2 had ended, Jerusalem Pizza was 15 minutes away from victory with a narrow 2-0 lead.

No one needed to be reminded. but of courses, everyone said it. we had led 6-5 going into period three a wweek earlier, and fallen 7-6 when we went into a defenisve shell. Keep firing the puck, keep knocking them off the puck, don't give them any room to move. The game was intense, but we set the tone of the intensity, controlled the flow of the game, and never let them into it. A third goal midway through the period gave us a three goal advantage, a lead large eneough to prevent the clock from stopping when the play was whistled dead.

Two minutes to go, 3-0 lead. Focus on the game. Don't think shutout, just get in front of every puck that is fired, knock down every man that stands in front. The game is ours. don't let them steal it.

Timeout with 1:04 left. 64 ticks and we win. The goalie is pulled, and for the first time all night, they start to exhibit pressure on our defense. The puck comes loose, and I pick it up, carrying it over the line. My chance to score a goal to go along with my first period assist. I shoot, hit the post, and the rebound comes out to my teammate who buries it for a 4-0 lead.

They had one more chance to score. A flurry in front of our net, but a save and a wide shot, and Jerusalem Pizza had our first win of the season, 4-0. The first shutout in the league this year.

So we pull ourselves up to 1-1, Next week we play the 0-2 Beers, who are looking for a chance to salvage their season.

The Post Integrity Era Begins

Its a whole new Blog world now. There is total freedom to write whatever I want. The Blog has been compromised.

So first, the Canada deal. We didn't eat out as often I would have liked. Economics teaches us that for everything you get, there is an opportunity cost of the things you could have done. So we chose the downtown luxury hotel rather than out in the suburbs, and it cost us in eating opportunites.

First, though, we ate at Cafe Shelli, a great place for Sunday brunch, and if you are ever in Toronto and need breakfast, I recommend the pancakes. We skipped lunch, being trapped downtown too far away from any food, and then had a huge dinner at Miami Grill. Another excellent choice, as was the company.

We met Miskin, a tall, red-headed fellow whose nine-month pregnant wife managed to beach herself on the couch and could not make it out of the house for dinner. It was probably better that way. Ribs are not food for mixed company. And even though the wife was there, we are a past the courting and impressing stage.

The hotel was great. We ordered beer from room service, had them valet park our car.

We did not partake of the porn options available to us, although not for a lack of trying on my part.

Before I forget, we did spend the night in Kitchener on Saturday night. At that hotel, they offered individual porn for 12.99 a movie or all you can watch for $25. The Swanky Toronto hotel did not have that kind of offer.

No credibility

Sad to say, the era of this blog's credibility has come to an end.

It happened on Saturday night, before we went to Canada, when the wife was scrolling through the blog. She read the post "Heading for Heartbreak" and was horrified that I included some of the details of our fight.

She insisted that I remove that section at once.

Not wanting to fight the entire time we were in Canada, I acquiesced, and replaced the description of the fight with asterisks.

And with that action, I took all the credibility this blog had as a true look at this life, and flushed it down the toilet. What remains is a shell that is neither humorous nor accurate.

For that I apologize.

That said, I don't know why anyone would continue to read this blog, or why I should continue to write it.

To everyone who has read this blog, thank you for your time. I have enjoyed your comments, and I'm glad we were able to connect on some level.

Eating in Canada

The wife and I are going to toronto on sunday for the day. We pricelined a downtown hotel for $64, and we are going to spend the day before coming home early monday.

We used to always eat at King Solomons when we went to canada, but then it closed and now it is reopened, but maybe there is something better than buffet at King Solomon. Maybe there is something so good that we will never find out because we always eat at markys, king solomons and some pizza shop.

So to any canadians who have any food suggestions, lets her it. Some web site offers 57 kosher places (including bakeries, and we need to cut it down to four or five places. One for sunday breakfast, one for sunday brunch, on for late sunday lunch, one for early sudnay dinner and one for late sunday dinner. oh, and we will need a different place for breakfast on monday morning, preferably one with drive thru.

Headed for Heartbreak

It would be a lie to say that i thought about the game when from the moment I woke up this morning until this very moment. the morning began with some good wife fighting, followed by locking myself out of the house, followed by more wife fighting.

And I know you would love to hear about the wife fighting. It was the same fight, different day. Topics included ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* and *******.

But that play by play is for another day. Don't worry, we have this fight every few months. It will come up again on a day that is not as filled with meaning as this one was.

So I was psyched for the game. All the guys on the team were. First game of the season, first season in the league. One guy told me he woke up nervous, and felt butterflies all day. Our goalie was feeling butterflies near gametime, and I'm sure some other people were who didn't feel like sharing.

Me, I didn't really eat all day. I didn't want it sitting in my system. Because there is only one way to play. That is to leave everything you have out there on that court. And often times, that means throwing up if you have any food inside you.

So I didn't eat much today.

Gametime was at 10:30 PM, and we were playing Winning is Optional, a team that chose that name after going 3-7 last season.

I made a new up-tempo CD, and tried to include inspiring radio calls like Al Michaels "Do You Believe in Miracles" and Jack Buck's "I don't believe what I just saw"

I picked up two of our players at around 9, and we had a good hour to watch other teams play, stretch, and mentally prepare urselves for the task at hand.

We started slowly. It takes time to get used to a new floor, new dimensions, new opponents. Less than one minute into the first period we were trailing 1-0. A few minutes later, and we were down 3-0, and thats the way the first period ended.

We regrouped during the intermission, and came out firing. We scored 6 goals in the second period, only giving up 2, and going into the third period, we led 6-5.

We fought hard in the third period, but we went into an offensive shell. Too much dump and chase, not enough scoring opportunities. They scored a goal to tie it all at 6-6. Then, with two and a half minutes left, they scored again, taking the lead 7-6.

We had a few more chances, but the puck didn't bounce our way, and thats the way it ended.

We learned a lot about our team tonight. Most importantly, we learned how to play in this league. It is exhausting. We need to be in top shape, to give it our all every minute out there. And we will get there. We're just not there yet.

So a heartbreaking loss in a game we should have and probably could have won. But we know for next week. And you know we are going to bring it.

Should I Be Insulted

I am involved in our shul's first casino night. I feel conflicted about having a Casino night, and don't feel that it is the right type of event for an orthodox shul, but the rabbi gave the event his blessings, and they are going to go along with it regardless of what i think. Anyway, i was asked to help, and I did the invitations and signs, which came out looking grreat.

This morning, though, I received this e-mail.

"Would you run the roulette game on Casino Night? We just think you'd look good doing it. Also, I mentioned in an earlier email that we need signs. Can you do it?"

What exactly does it mean that I would "look good" doing the roulette table. Do they think that
A) I can't deal cards?
B) Fat guys are great at roulette?
C) Fat guys look good spinning the wheel?
D) Unshaven, unkempt guys in jeans and a t-shirt belong behind the roulette table, since no one is looking at the roulette wheel spinner

It also brings into focus several other questions

A) Does the fact that she thinks I will look good doing this mean I have a chance with her?
B) Even though I am not really into the woman who sent me the e-mail, there must have been a discussion with some of the other women on the panel, all of whom must have come to a consensus that I will look good on that evening. And so who are the rest of these women on the panel who are clearly into me as a roulette wheel spinner?

I should also mention that spinning the roulette wheel will be like a dream come true for me.

Its just too bad that i need to be turned into a piece of man-meat to have the privelege.

Bum Rap

I think too many blogs give too many jews bum raps. Myself included. So here is a nice story about our fellow brethren.

My wife designs invitations as a side job. Based in Detroit, she doesn't have access to a lot of the really nice Jewish-themed paper, which is all in NY. She saw a website that offered invitations, and when she got to the site, she found that they were printing on really nice paper.

She sent an email to the contact person on the site, who was the owner of the business, asking about the paper. She told him that her clients are not looking to design their invitations online, and she isn't trying to take away any of his clients, but she would really like to know where she can find the paper.

She never expected to hear back from the guy, but he surprised her. Within a few hours she had received an email with the paper company's phone numbers, the web site owner's phone number, and a short note that said not to worry, Parnasa is in God's hands, so he can give her the contacts.

Holy Night

Last night was one of the most sacred nights in sports. It was the completion of our practice schedule, and the night where everyone on the team got their jerseys.

Gold colored, with the Jerusalem Pizza logo on the front, complete with a Mogain David star and the words Cholov Yisroel written in hebrew. No sense hiding who we are.

Its an amazing feeling to put on the jersey. To know that from this point forward, you are a team, with a single goal - To win a championship.

For the past month our practices have improved. We are more comfortable with the puck, and have found some of our weaknesses that we hope to overcome. Our passing is crisper, our shots on target, and no one is afraid of taking a beating in front of the net.

Yes, this is a non contact league, but we scouted it out, and its still a hockey game.The puck needs to come out of the corner, and someone needs to get that puck in front of the net.

I came home with my jersey on, and showed it to my wife. I took it off, showered, and put it back on. She thought I was like my 8 and 5 year old boys, the day they got their uniformas in little league this past summer. They didn't want to let them go. All they wanted to do was wear the uniform all day and all night, every day, and every night.

I commented to my wife how some things are universal feelings, and my boys had tapped in to those feelings. She responded that I was like an eight year old.

But she is wrong. She couln't possibly understand the feeling of putting on a team jersey, and getting ready for that first game.

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Tonight I spent four hours at the Siyum HaShas. Truthfully, had I known how long it was going to be, or what was going to happen there, I don't know if I would have gone.

Still, I did go, and the thing is this. I have all the respect in the world for the people who finished Daf Yomi. I celebrate them and admire their acheivement in the field of Gemara.

What I don't get is the program director for the event. When they planned a three hour show, did they put any thought into how they would cram so much activity into those three hours. This was a huge thing, and it took place during dinner time, from 5:40 - 10:30. Ending at nine would have been tolerable; going beyond was pushing me beyond limits that i care to traverse.

And while I am thinking about the Siyum, there is one more thing. Anyone who stands up before a large crowd of American Jews and speaks in yiddish should have his speaking liscense permanently revoked. There is no place in mainstream American Judaism for that language. you want to hide out in some little clandestine coven with a few others who speak yiddish, go ahead and talk to your hearts content. But don't stand before what was most liekly the largest Jewish crowd to ever witness a mass media event like tonight and talk in Yiddish.

The message is lost to the masses, and instead we are told that you don't care about the language we speak or what we think. So don't show up talking yiddish. We've already tuned you out.