Chicago Jews on Chicago White Sox/Jewish lessons from the White Sox

Growing up, my family lived so close to Wrigley Field that on game days if I wanted to know if the Cubs were winning I only had to go out on the back porch and listen to how loud the cheers sounded. Add to that a father who was a newspaperman in the days when free Cubs tickets were distributed so liberally that sometimes even the nature columnist got them.

So-in the ever-present debate over heredity vs. environment-you could say that being a Cubs fan was in the air that I breathed if not in my very genes.

But in the last few weeks I've become a turncoat-a traitor, as some would have it-as White Sox fever has gripped the city and swept me and my equally Cub-centered son along with it.

I've also discovered a few things I didn't know. Living on the North Side, I thought all Jews were Cubs fans. I've since found out differently.

It would be hard to find a more high- profile Jew in the city than Steven B. Nasatir, president of the Jewish Federation of Metropolitan Chicago/Jewish United Fund. Nasatir is also, as he puts it, "one of the largest White Sox fans in the city. I went to my first game in 1948 and cheered for (Baseball Hall of Famer) Luke Appling. I remember 1959 very very well," he says.

Nasatir had season tickets to the regular Sox season and to both playoff series and he's attending the World Series as well.

"It's not appropriate on the holidays to pray to G-d for something as insignificant as a baseball win, but in our tradition it is appropriate to say a shehecheyanu, and indeed I did that at my New Year's dinner," he says, adding only "I'm very excited. Go Sox!"

One who does not share that sentiment is Arnie Kanter, the author of a book titled "Is G-d A Cubs Fan?" published several years ago by the Jewish Reconstructionist Press. He says, "I'm not one of those Cubs fans who hates the Sox. I don't hate 'em, I like 'em. I'd like to see them win but if they lose I don't care. There's nothing better than this-I get to root for the White Sox and I don't give a damn whether they win or lose."

Kanter grew up on the South Side and admits he's "sort of an aberration" as a Cubs fan. As for the White Sox, "They're an exciting team and I'd like to see them win, but I have to admit a certain part of me would take pleasure if they lose," he says.

Those would be fightin' words to Rabbi Elliot Gertel, spiritual leader of Congregation Rodfei Zedek in Hyde Park, squarely in White Sox territory. "I've always been a Sox fan," Gertel says. "I kind of inherited it with the congregation."

He recalls educator Solomon Schechter's admonition that "if you want to be a rabbi in America you have to know baseball" and notes that among his congregants there are many elderly German immigrants-and that they are often the biggest baseball fans. "German immigrants thought knowing baseball was a part of being an American," he says. "Many of them are experts in baseball statistics, mostly with the Sox."

The congregation has taken field trips to see Sox games, and members were at the last game at the old Comiskey Park and the first game at the new one at what is now U.S. Cellular Field. And at a recent Shabbat morning service, "we invited all the lifetime Sox fans up to the bimah to do adon olam," Gertel says. "We had a pretty good contingent. Baseball trips through the years have been big. It's been a very nice aspect of the congregation." With World Series tickets both scarce and expensive, that's one field trip the congregation will pass up, he adds.

And then there's Merle Branner. To anyone who knows, she's one of the city's-perhaps the world's-biggest Cubs fans. A serious baseball card collector, a star in the collecting community with a houseful of baseball and Cubs memorabilia, Branner recently participated in a Cubs program at Disney World in which she played alongside some of the team's stars of years past.

Do I dare even bring up the subject of the White Sox in her presence? Well, yes. She says she hopes they win because it would bring so much joy to a 95-year-old Sox fan at her temple. But as for herself, "I'll root for the Astros," she says. "But do I really care which way it goes? No, I don't.

"I'm not one of those Cubs fans who thinks, I can't stand the White Sox," she adds. She's watching the Series games "out of curiosity, and because I love baseball. But it's like this numbing feeling."

She doesn't think Chicago has gone all out in excitement for the Sox as they would have for the Cubs.

Nevertheless, she has some kind words for the South Siders. "I think (Sox manager) Ozzie Guillen has done a fantastic job. Their pitching is phenomenal. I wouldn't put them down by any means." As a Cubs booster, she says, "I'm one of those fans who would tell you the truth. I knew we weren't going (to the post-season). We were injured the last few years. I'm a realist."

She adds that "there's a big Jewish contingency rooting for the Sox. They're the former South Siders. But their kids are Cubs fans." As for herself, "If the Sox win, I know I'll never hear the end of it at temple," she says.

For Matthew Kanter (no relation to Arnie Kanter but the son of the late Rabbi Milton Kanter), synagogue is where he pits his lifelong love of the White Sox against his co-religionists who may be on the other side-of the great baseball divide, that is.

For the last three years he has participated in a Baseball Kiddish at Skokie Valley Agudath Jacob Synagogue. During it, he discusses why he believes the White Sox are better than the Cubs (don't worry, the North Siders get equal time) and also touches on such subjects as "the connections between Torah and baseball and how strong baseball is.

"Torah seems to indicate positive things about the White Sox and things against the Cubs," the lifelong Sox fan says.

Surprisingly, Kanter grew up on the North Side and was one of the few Sox fans at Arie Crown Jewish Day School, although today there are more, he says. He comes by his allegiance naturally: his father, a highly respected rabbi and psychologist who died in July, "was a big-time White Sox fan," Kanter says. "He was a strong fan right up to the end. In the hospital he was always asking me how the Sox were doing, and we were watching games together. It runs very deep."

At the Baseball Kiddish, he relates, "there were separate Sox and Cubs 'dugouts' and vendors were walking around. They played 'Take Me Out to the Ball Game.' It's a wonderful Shabbos thing."

As for the World Series, Shabbat and Succos interfered with the first few games, "but if it goes to game six or seven, my brother and I will try to go to that one," he says.

Danny Dayan, executive director of the Chicago office of Israel Bonds, calls himself a "fair-weather Sox fan. I'm a Cubs fan and I'm moderately excited now, not because of the Sox but because Chicago has someone representing them in the World Series," he says.

"I'm not being a traitor to the Cubs," he adds. "I'm just being a Chicagoan. I'm not feeling the intensity of the Bears or Bulls when they were hot, but I found myself watching the last couple of games (in the playoffs). When the Sox get hot is the only time I get interested."

Like other Cubs fans, Dayan says he doesn't think the city in general is as excited as it would be if the Cubs were playing for the championship.

"If the Cubs were in the World Series this city would be going crazy," he says. "People would be partying, it would be way overplayed in the news. Now it's just like-ehhhh...."

That's not the sentiment of Judith Phillips-Balter, lifelong South Sider and self-described White Sox fanatic.

Phillips-Balter, who is also a lifelong congregant of Rodfei Zedek and is now in charge of the volunteer Torah readers at the synagogue, had a good reason for becoming interested in the White Sox early on. When she was in first or second grade, she recalls, many Sox players lived across the street from her house in the Madison Park Hotel.

"Some of them would play catch with neighborhood kids in the park," she says, recalling a simpler way of life and of baseball. "I was a tomboy when I was a kid, and I used to watch. I was a tiny, scrawny little thing but I wanted to play baseball so badly."

Having caught Sox fever, she recalls that "there was a group of boys and girls who would go to Comiskey Park on a Sunday for a double header. We'd get cheap upper deck tickets. We always sat in the left field upper deck. We were really big fans." In 1959, she was 15 and "terribly disappointed" when the Sox lost.

Phillips-Balter got married (to a Pittsburgh native who is "neutral" since his team is never in the playoffs) and had a son ("He's a Cubs fan but we still get along"). And now, her year is here. She didn't try to get World Series tickets because she knew prices would be sky-high, she says, but did exchange her season's tickets to the Chicago Symphony for the night of the first game of the Series.

"I'm kind of a fanatic," she admits. "A nice way of saying it is that I'm kind of young at heart, a little bit juvenile. I just love baseball." And on the Friday before the World Series started, she was telling everyone, "If you go to shul tomorrow, give a little prayer...."

From my 20-something years as a rabbi, I have learned that many Jews experience health-related and other life crises around the High Holy Days. Based upon these insights, I have learned to complete my holiday preparations in enough time so that I can respond in an uncompromised manner to those who need my attention.

This past Oct. 10, the day before Kol Nidre, at about eight in the morning my pager sounded. I immediately thought to myself that someone was ill or had passed away. Looking at the number on the face of the pager, I became especially concerned, as the number belonged to my close friend from childhood, Yehuda Cohen.

Fearing the worst, I called Yehuda back immediately. When I was greeted with a cheerful voice, my anxiety was alleviated. Yehuda then said, "Jamie, I have two tickets to the American League Championship Series tomorrow night with your name on them." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. In my entire life, I have never been to a Major League Baseball playoff game, let alone the ALCS in which the White Sox were playing. I accepted immediately my friend's gracious offer.

After hanging up, I wondered to myself how I was going to justify attending a baseball game on the evening before Yom Kippur, the most awesome day in the Jewish calendar. With that challenge in mind, I decided that I would extract from this Awesome Baseball Experience at least 10 spiritual lessons, one for each day of the Aseret Y'mei Teshuva (The Ten Days of Repentance). Here is my American League (i.e., with the designated hitter) starting line-up:

Lessons #1-3: Preserving Shalom Bayit, Kibbud Av and Mi-dor L'Dor - - An Intergenerational Experience.

Yehuda gave me two tickets. Who do I take? Yehuda was taking his son Joe. It only seemed natural that I take my son Max. Joe is an only child. Max has two younger sisters who, like their big brother, are huge Sox fans. If I take Max, it wouldn't sit well with my daughters Rita and Sophie. Taking one child and not the others would not be good for preserving the shalom bayit (peace of the home) of the Gordon household. In order to avert a potential civil war, it was important to think outside of the (batter's) box and come up with a solution. My solution was to promote the great mitzvah of honoring our parents (kibbud av v'em by inviting my father to come. My father, Rabbi Nathan Gordon, was thrilled to join his son as the guests of Yehuda Cohen and his son Joe.

Baseball is well known as an intergenerational activity. In the movie "Field of Dreams," in addition to meeting up with shamed "Black Sox" star "Shoeless" Joe Jackson, Ray Kinsella experienced a spiritual reconciliation with his father John, a minor league baseball player. A favorite activity that Kevin Kostner's character shared with his dad was "having a catch."

In Jewish tradition intergenerational activities are also extremely important. When Moses told Pharaoh that the Children of Israel were going to leave Egypt, he explained that grandparents, parents and children were all going to go together: "With our youth and with our elders we shall go"-Bi-n'areinu u-vi-z'keneinu nelekh. (Exodus 10:9) It was important that the Israelite children stood next to their parents and grandparents, not only when they left Egypt, but throughout life, so that they could all learn from each other.

Along with our rabbis and other schoolteachers, the most important teachers in Jewish tradition are parents and grandparents. In the words of the Shema Prayer - - V'shinantam l'vanekha - - "and you shall teach your children thoroughly." (Deuteronomy 6:7) After all, the teachings of the Torah are passed mi-dor l'dor, "from generation to generation."

As the White Sox players were being introduced one by one in front of the exuberant U.S. Cellular home crowd, a fan seated near me, a complete stranger, shared with me in awe that he couldn't believe that he was alive and witnessing this special moment. Many of the almost 40,000 fans present were "pinching themselves," making sure that what they were witnessing was not a dream. After all, the last time the White Sox had gone this far was in 1959 when they won the American League pennant.

In Jewish tradition, we mark the celebration of Torah-ordained holidays and certain other special moments by reciting the Shehecheyanu blessing, thanking G-d for keeping us alive to experience these special moments. In addition to the six NBA Championships won by the Chicago Bulls, this was another special Chicago sports moment when I had to restrain myself from reciting the Shehecheyanu blessing.

One of the greatest challenges of the Jewish people is to unite for a positive common cause. Unity (achdut) is readily achieved when there are wars in Israel and other crises among our people, but how many times do we come together for a positive cause? With a limited number of Angels fans in attendance, every one present at "the Cell" that evening were united by their support of the White Sox. While the fans in the stands demonstrated their achdut by cheering for their beloved "Pale Hose," the Sox players, albeit in a losing cause, showed theirs by playing with their special brand of achdut-teamwork and team spirit.

After the 2004 season, at the recommendation of White Sox Manager Ozzie Guillen, General Manager Ken Williams traded for players who could play "small ball." To win with small ball, a team must take advantage of every opportunity. They must capitalize on walks, singles, bunts, opponents' errors, and stolen bases. Since "small ball-ers" are not aiming for the fences, there is little room for mistakes and missed opportunities.

Unfortunately at the ALCS Game #1, the White Sox-who had last played four days earlier-were perhaps too well rested and did not execute in the precise fashion required by "small ball" champions. Although they were the beneficiaries of excellent pitching by Jose Contreras, they could not lay down bunts, steal bases, and make clutch fielding plays.

In Jewish life, no matter what our religious perspective may be, it is important to play our own unique flavor of "small ball." We must be meticulous in performing mitzvot and taking advantage of every opportunity to do good. Our sages teach that we must perform mitzvot at our first opportunity: Z'rizim makdimim l'mitzvot-"The zealous hustle to do mitzvot." Similarly the sage Hillel stated: Ihm loh akhshav- - eimatai? - - "If not now, when?" (Ethics of Our Fathers 1:12)

At regular season games, it is common for fans to participate in such distractions from the game as taking strolls through the park. When I am with my children at U.S. Cellular Field we enjoy spending time before and during the game at Fundamentals, where kids sharpen such baseball skills as pitching, batting, fielding and base running. I found the level of fan intensity to be much greater at a playoff game. The fans seemed to be focused on every hitter, every play and every pitch. When a Sox player got a hit or made an excellent play in the field, "high-fives" were freely exchanged among fans. When an Angel player did the same, collective gasps could be heard around the park.

Having proper focus and concentration is critical in living a meaningful Jewish life. From a traditional perspective, a Jew should focus his or her energies on living a life that is guided by the principles of the Torah. While achieving this goal, one must block out many competing distractions.

The importance of blocking out distractions and focusing on the task at hand is especially relevant regarding prayer. There is a principle known as kavana. Related to the word kivun, which means "direction," kavana refers to the focus and direction of our prayer. Ultimately a Jew should direct his or her prayers to G-d. According to Jewish law (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 98:1), the highest level of kavana is achieved when someone prays with great devotion while thinking of the deeper meaning of the words that he or she utters. In order to achieve such a high level of prayer, it is critical that a person first selects an appropriate place to pray and blocks out all distractions. The person is then ready to focus and concentrate on the deeper meaning of the prayers offered.

Maimonides teaches (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Teshuva 2:1) that a person performs "perfect repentance" (teshuvah g'mura) when he or she does not commit the same sin that they committed when confronted with similar circumstances. The White Sox learned from their mistakes of ALCS game #1. Beginning with the second game of the series, when they played the smallest of small ball by taking advantage of a controversial dropped third strike, the ChiSox performed their brand of perfect teshuvah by not making the same mistakes that they did in game #1.

According to one traditional line of thought, if all the Jews in the world all observed one Sabbath together, Mashiach (the Messiah) would come. My father and I had the pleasure of riding to the game with our friends Bruce and Jacki Barron. Jacki remarked that if all the Jews who had tickets to Wednesday, Kol Nidre night's, Sox game decided instead to go to synagogue services, perhaps, Mashiach would come. My father added a friendly amendment by sharing that if they donated the proceeds from their ticket sales towards Jewish education, this for sure would inspire the arrival of the Mashiach.

As we cheer our beloved White Sox on to World Series victory against the Astros of Houston, may we all incorporate these 10 lessons of baseball and Judaism into our daily lives. May the year 5766 bring good health, happiness, shalom, and of course- - hatzlachah - - Soxcess!

While not Jewish myself, I grew up in the most Jewish neighborhood in the city in the '50s and '60s--on the North Side, along Devon Avenue, between Western and California. It was a Cubs neighborhood, naturally, being on the North Side. But while we were passionate about the Cubs, most of us (like the folks described in this article) were OK with "liking" the Sox, too. They were Chicago's American League team.

I was very happy and excited to see the Sox win the Series. Only a Cubs win could exceed that thrill.

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