The Tale of a Champion

Dallas Mavericks, 2011 NBA Champions

On a cool, cloudy mid-June day in Jerusalem, when it even rained a bit, a new champion was crowned--the Dallas Mavericks--who, after being founded in 1980, finally broke through to win it all for the first time. The NBA for us growing up meant catching the Finals with Amy and Dad every summer, watching somebody else's team win it all. Our year didn't come til 2011...it really feels like hell froze over.

The 90's were a great decade for Samuels' sports teams: the Reds won the World Series in '90, our Cowboys won the Super Bowl in '92, '93 and '95, Michigan football took the title in '97 and Michigan hockey in '98, and the Stars hoisted the Stanley Cup in '99 (Ann Arbor's Walnut Street was the scene of my fanatical screams that night). Since then it's been one runner-up after the next--the Stars in '00, Mavs in '06, Rangers last fall, and Michigan hockey, who lost the title game the night Dad passed away. Here's hoping I won't wait 12 years to celebrate the next title (all eyes move to our Rangers to join the club).

But in the meantime, I celebrated this as if it might take a decade for the next one. I caught the game at home with four buddies. This was the culmination of many weeks of middle-of-the-night hoops, as my Mavs did what roomies David's Celtics and Noah's Bulls couldn't--vanquish the hated Heat. We waited until the second half to pop open some 5 am beers (I went with a Moosbacher pilsener from Germany for Dirk, while Noah chose an Israeli Goldstar to toast Dirk's country losing 66 years ago).

As for post-game, when their White Sox played for the title in '05, Noah and his dad put two bottles of champagne on ice: a good one for drinking, and a cheap one for the champagne shower. So with the Larry O'Brien Trophy in the building, I prepared appropriately. How sweet was that to continue the time-honored tradition of toasting a championship with champagne! I only wish I could have sprayed champagne on Dad to celebrate his beloved team's huge win...

Dad would have had so much demise of evil to celebrate lately: the Mavs taking down the despised Lakers and Heat, the ouster of Tressel and Pryor from o state, the Navy Seals' elimination of Bin Laden. (Did I go too far to put the sports guys in the same sentence as Osama?) Regardless, Dad's smiling his head off from above these days...

Our Mavs took us on one incredible ride. I caught a February stomping of Sacramento--my fellow Israeli Omri Casspi's Kings were overmatched from the tip-off (it was cool though to see several Israeli flags around the arena). The two-time defending champion Lakers--swept away with authority. Shannon Brown likes to think LA swept themselves (Ben Rogers called him out in this brilliant interview). The media focus in the Finals was again not on Dallas, but on Miami's failures. With all due respect to my sister's profession, what is wrong with these people who can't place the focus where it belongs, on this ultimate old-school team? These guys' determination to the last minute was unreal.

Here's the radio call of the crowning glory. The nba Mini Movie for Game 6 forced tears of joy down my cheek. The Mavs now join the fraternity of Dallas champs who urged them to victory in a pre-game message (as for me, The Time is Now to write two papers). And for some random trivia, sounds like Shawn Marion and I have identical left pinkies.

It's not the old NBA on NBC; here in Israel it's the NBA on ספורט/Sport 5, and this is the swagger song, my new anthem--עוד יהיה לי/Od Yihiye Li. It's a tasty Michal Shapira cover of a cheesy '89 pop song. This one was written for Jason Terry and this team. Some translation (הנה המילים): "One day I'll spread my wings, you'll see that I'm not afraid; I'll get the good news my heart sends me, I'll break through the long distance; I'll get what I wanted, what I've been missing. Why not?" A lot of the Hebrew doesn't translate terribly well, so think of it as a sort of Israeli "My Time After Awhile" (played here by Buddy Guy). That's me spreading my wings JET style on my street.

Off to keep typing and write those papers now...As the Mavs' unmatched leader Coach Carlisle said last night, the Mavs said all year that "it's not about what you can't do; it's about what you can do." So it's time for me to be the Dirk Nowitzki of gerontology. Have a Shiner for me Dallas!!!

Eric/אריק

Happy Birthday Dad!

Dear beloved Dad,
Today, you would have turned 70. I'm glad we got to celebrate so many of your birthdays together.

Our Mavericks gave you an early birthday present last night (it was already June 3rd when I watched from Tel Aviv). I have no doubt that you were coaching the Mavs from above. You always said, "There's plenty of time left" when rooting for our Dallas teams--beloved, yet overwhelmingly underwhelming over the decades. You gave the Mavs the push for their 4th quarter comebacks in Game 1 against the Lakers, Game 4 against Oklahoma City, and last night against the team that I call the Miami Michael Jordans, i.e.
"Michael Jordan misses, Michael Jordan with the rebound. Michael Jordan throws the alley-oop to Michael Jordan for the thunderous jam." This Heat team is so unfairly, disgustingly loaded with talent. But at the end of the day, the best complete team wins the game. And doing the little things right got us that win: at the end of the day, we missed only 4 free throws, and the Heat missed 8 (17-21 vs. their 16-24). Ball game right there.
I was ready to say earlier in the game, that if we pulled out Game 2, that just meant we had forced a Game 5, a boon for the Dallas economy by ensuring 3 home Finals games. But the manner in which we stole a game that noone but you and the Mavs themselves believed we could pull off gives me a lot of hope for more wins to come. Just 3 more--with good health for Dirk's finger and Haywood's hip, we can do this!

Your message to the world is to always keep hope alive, whether in rooting so loyally for your usually hapless teams, or in fighting the vicious disease of pancreatic cancer for almost 21 months.

After the game today, I started in noting your birthday at a nearby synagogue. In saying the Mourner's Kaddish for these first 11 months from your passing, which I am aiming to do three times a day at the morning, afternoon, and evening services, I am revisiting the skill developed in my high school drum line days of listening to those around me, and coordinating for a tight, unified sound. The goal is for all mourners to say the Kaddish as one. The old drum line buddies would be proud.
I also have led services all over Dallas and Israel, a new role since you left us that is reserved for mourners during the week. I continue to find my voice and try to honor you while receiving the humbling honor of being a sort of spokesperson for each service's group of holy Jews praying for good things.

Your birthday continued on the spectacular Tel Aviv beach. The water today was simply stunning, with shades of turquoise and navy blue reflecting the glory of G-d's creation. You always wanted to watch me play beach volleyball, the sport which I usually manage to not make a fool of myself while playing. While 11 months off the court left my game rusty, I rocked a good serve and threw down 2 authoritative blocks of spikes at the net. Other than that, my teammate Mahmoud from Eritrea and I were overmatched by a solid pair of Israelis. But I heard you cheering for me anyway from above.

Now I'm back at long last visiting cousins Toker and Batya on their pastoral Kibbutz Urim in the Negev desert. I got in an invigorating 3-lap bike ride all the way around the kibbutz. The natural scenes reminded me of those I experienced riding through the Sam Houston National Forest during my epic Texas roadtrip with Mom last month. The trade was the scent of pine trees in Texas' Piney Woods for this season's beautiful lavender flowers descending from trees, which I have seen all over Israel this week, from Herzliya, to my Jerusalem neighborhood, to Beer Sheva, all the way here to Urim. While circling the kibbutz, the scents alternate between flowery, and less-so--courtesy of the dairy farm and horse stable. The sights include palm trees and an enormous cactus farm, and a refreshing breeze cooled me off as an unusually long stretch of delightful spring-like weather continues. I didn't make it out to the highway where we ran when you and Mom came to visit in '05--Batya and Toker don't have a helmet.

Now the holy Shabbat is coming. May you rest in peace on this day of rest and peace. שבת שלום/Shabbat Shalom.

I miss you and love you more than the whole world.
אריק/Eric

P.S. Here's the less-than-stellar OECD report on Israel's elder care והסיפור בעברית