Defender of the game

When I heard that Coach Jonathan Halpert was inducted into the New York State and New York City Basketball Hall of Fame this summer, I didn’t know how many wins he had (416), how many conference championships he had won (zero), or how many years he paced up and down the sidelines (forty-two), I thought about his kippa.

The Jewish roots of basketball are deep and strong. While Jews have played basketball for over a hundred years, sometimes the depth of our contribution to Naismith’s game needs reminding: The first basket in N.B.A. history was scored by Ossie Schectman; the first owner of the Harlem Globetrotters was Abe Saperstein; and one of the game’s most iconic symbols, the Boston Celtics’ leprechaun, was designed by Zang Auerbach. (Yes, Red’s brother.) While there are plenty of Jewish coaches in the Hall of Fame: Harry Litwack, Eddie Gottlieb, Larry Brown, Red Holtzman, Nat Holman; not one covered their heads, at least while on the sidelines. 

After all these years, coach Halpert (and his kippa) have been finally, and properly, acknowledged by the secular basketball world. The fact that nobody has coached more college games in New York City history is an impressive feat. The fact that he coached all those years with a large knitted kippa atop his head tells a different story. A reminder of his fidelity to G-d and to the game of basketball. Like a marriage he brought the world of Torah and basketball together successfully. He approached the game with a dichotomy and longevity like no other basketball coach. As journalist Phil Mushnick noted, “Halpert holds a record that never will be surpassed: His Yeshiva teams never have lost a Friday night or Saturday afternoon game.” Coach Halpert retired undefeated because they didn’t hoop on Shabbos. 

In his memoir, “Are You Still Coaching?” Halpert wrote, “It is the phenomenon of “why” more than weight training or limited practice times that makes the YU athlete distinct from his opponents.” What made Coach Halpert distinct from other coaches was his commitment to Judaism, his players, and Yeshiva University. 

One encapsulating anecdote from Halpert’s book took place during warmups; while most players are focusing on the game and their opponent, seconds before tipoff, as the sun was setting, a player runs up to Coach and reminds him that the team had not yet recited Mincha (afternoon prayer). Collapsing four decades of coaching observant Jews into one perfect, potent moment: Crisis management. 

Above all, Halpert’s influence can still be seen on the high school level. For a long time, the Yeshiva high school basketball league felt like a secret shared among friends. But after coaching against and watching their games I tell anyone who will listen that it is must-see New York City basketball. The ball and the players never stop moving, an uncanny resemblance to the way the game was played for almost half a century under the tutelage of Coach Halpert. 

Recently, I ran into Coach Halpert at the annual Fannie Lou Hamer Freedom High School fall summit at Salanter Akiba Riverdale High School (SAR), where his son, Rafi Halpert is the head coach, and his grandson Ari, is a talented guard on the team. This was a rare chance to talk to a legend of the game. Graciously, he told me story after story. 

“Sarachek invented the full-court zone press.” Referring to  Yeshiva University’s other legendary basketball coach, Red Sarachek. 

Our conversation bent towards basketball history then darted towards current issues with the modern game. Halpert still had the fire in his eyes, unfortunately his basketball vision has been compromised by the dribble. He has a distinctly octogenarian unease with the state of how basketball is played these days. 

“They just don’t pass the ball anymore,” he lamented. 

I asked about an out-of-bounds play that his son’s team runs.

“Is that Sarachek’s out-of-bounds play?”

“No,” he became animated. “That’s mine.”

After eighteen seasons of coaching high school basketball in the Bronx, I often wonder, how much longer will I coach. Can I coach? Imagining or preparing for retirement is an awkward exercise for coaches. Somedays I think I should just let myself become basketball’s Lear; graying and howling on the sidelines growing madder until eventually I’m running shirtless around Gotham. 

We are all, at some point, stepping closer to retirement. Some do it with style and others fail miserably at it. I figured, in the course of his coaching career, those losses accumulated (548) and practices weren’t fun anymore. And unlike an aging boxer who has taken too many shots to the head or a pitcher whose fastball has lost its juice, coaching is more an issue of mental exhaustion. At this moment, before the basketball season began, I was hopeful Coach Halpert would untangle something in me. Give me advice on when to get out of the game. What was the secret of his endurance? When did he know the time was right?

“I was fired.” Halpert confessed. 

The planned exit is never executed exactly as we draw it on the whiteboard. 

The preseason meeting between the two Bronx high schools is never just a scrimmage. Normally, it is a chance for a group of young men from different backgrounds to bond over the game they love. Today’s game was a bit different. This was a Jewish basketball tapestry when late in the third quarter, Ari cut left and was wide open under the basket for an easy layup. Coach Rafi had drawn up that very same out of bounds play, a play pulled from his dad’s Yeshiva University basketball playbook, this time for the grandson. Three generations of New York City basketball in one gym in the Bronx, connected by one play, gives a new twist to the phrase: L’dor v’dor v’dor. 

“I’m not going to engage in this false humility,” Halpert told The New York Times in 2012. “The university owes me for taking a program and representing it in the community to where it’s respected.” The New York City basketball community is also indebted to Coach Halpert for teaching the game, and for defending the values of the game. The court at Yeshiva University protects his legacy by bearing his name. There are legions of former players who adore him. It’s no accident that Coach Rafi is one of the best coaches I have ever coached against. 

After the scrimmage the gym was silent and still. I waited outside the locker room for my team. Grandfather and grandson stood together at halfcourt. Between the old guard and the young point guard, a post-game analysis uncoiled. It was only when I got home I realized I missed an opportunity. If only I could have photographed that moment. Instead I tell everyone that I met Coach Jonathan Halpert. And guess what he’s doing? He’s still coaching. 

Ari Halpert guards Jordan Reeves (photo by Jaden Lewis)