On Fandom and Fatherhood

I spent October 7th playing Nok Hockey.

As the awful updates trickled in on that fateful Shabbat morning, it quickly became apparent that we would not be leaving our apartment as planned. Instead, we passed the time with Shabbat-friendly indoor activities, unwittingly setting the tone for the next eleven months of family life. My wife and I – and countless other Israeli parents – have been tasked with confronting the surrounding horrors on a daily basis and distilling them into a world that makes sense for young children.

As the old saying goes, “it takes a village to raise a child.” To that end, the Hapoel Jerusalem community has been an invaluable co-parent. When war postponed the season and shut down our schools, the team kept their young fanbase entertained with daily contests. Once play resumed, basketball games became a place of refuge for our family; a place where we could both escape the harsh reality outside and connect more intimately with society by commiserating among like-minded fans.

Our connection was deepened by the team’s own efforts toward the families of victims, hostages, and fallen soldiers. A much-hyped matchup vs. the archnemesis Maccabi Tel Aviv became a platform upon which to memorialize the fallen soldiers who once donned the Red and Black in the stands. No matter how raucous the crowd, how tense the game, the loudest cheers were saved for chants of להחזיר את כולם הביתה – Bring Them Home Now. And unquestionably, the pinnacle of the season occurred moment after Hapoel’s State Cup victories, when released hostage and Hapoel Superfan Ofir Engel triumphantly raised the trophy in celebration – of more than just the game.

Which brings us to Hersh. For the past ten months, Hersh Goldberg-Polin’s picture has hung above the players’ entrance at Pais Arena, in the very spot where he once led the Hapoel faithful in raucous cheers. As Hersh’s parents campaigned tirelessly around the world on his behalf, this placard became a rallying point for his friends and co-enthusiasts back home. Over Passover, as Jerusalem fans counted down the minutes to an inconsequential match against Eilat, news broke revealing Hersh’s first signs of life. An undeniable air of hope filled the Arena, and the fanbase kicked its efforts into high gear. They handed out thousands of red shirts featuring Hersh’s picture and Rachel Goldberg’s unforgettable “We Love You. Stay Strong. Survive.” to Hapoel fans, players and personnel (and even the trophy!) at the State Cup finals in Tel Aviv. Likewise, a stadium-sized portrait of Hersh covered the entire sections of Hapoel fans during Hatikva. At the ensuing banner-raising ceremony, Hersh’s sisters Libby and Orly thanked the Hapoel community for lifting their family’s spirits with all of the efforts on his behalf.

Just last week, my kids and I attended a preseason Hapoel Jerusalem game at the vaunted Malha Arena. Having moved out of Jerusalem this summer, the game felt like a homecoming for us; familiar faces, familiar cheers, and a sea of red shirts, may bearing Hersh’s likeness. Following a tense victory over Maccabi Ramat Gan, an air of optimism once again filled the stands; new players, new season, new hope – not just for Hapoel, but for Hersh as well.

And here we are, September 1st. First day of school. Anticipated chaos overshadowed by devastating news. We chose not to tell the kids in the morning but by the time I get home, they will know. At least I hope they will; that way I won’t need to see their innocent faces when they hear the words “Hersh died.” Sorry kids, I don’t know how to make this one make sense.