Nadav Kariv

5^th period

Hapoel Tel-Aviv

I pass through the last security checkpoint and into the baggage claim at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, Israel. My dad and mom find the nearest pay phone and call my grandma to tell her we landed, while I play with my six-year-old brother.

“So how do you feel,” my dad asks me in Hebrew, while we are waiting for our luggage.

“Really excited, and really nervous,” I answer in English. It is the first time I have been back to Israel in two years, and this time I have come to try out for a professional soccer team.

“Don’t worry you’ll do just fine.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

After getting our luggage, we get our rental car and set off on the long drive to Ramat David, the kibbutz my grandma lives on, which is near Haifa. My mom and brother quickly fall asleep, and my dad and I start talking about the plans for my tryouts.

“So when do I start training with Hapoel Tel-Aviv”, I ask.

“Day after tomorrow, I think”, he tells me.

“So are you going to call Shmulik about the details”, I ask. Shmulik is the person that got me the try-out with Hapoel Tel-Aviv. He was my dad’s best friend growing up, and was a huge star in Israeli soccer. He played in the only World Cup Israel qualified for, and was the first Israeli ever to play in the German soccer league. Because of his fame and connections, he was able to pull many strings to get me this tryout.

“Yes, I’ll call him tonight. But, you shouldn’t worry about all that. You just concentrate on what you have to do, and that’s play soccer”, he tells me.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just wanna know what’s going on”, I say defensively.

“Well you’ll know soon enough. Now try to get some sleep so your body gets used to the time difference”, he instructs me.

            I wake up just as my dad parks the car in front of the path to my grandma’s house. My little brother jumps out of the car, and makes a beeline to the house. As I grab my suitcases from the trunk, one of my dad’s friends sees him and comes over to talk to him. Most of the people on the kibbutz know my dad because they were either his childhood friend, or are friends of his parents. I quickly say hello and continue on to my grandma’s, whom I have been waiting to see for two years. As I walk down the path to her house, I begin to smile as I see all the familiar houses and trees on the way to the house. As I pull my suitcases through the front door, I see my grandma hugging my brother. I quickly drop my suitcases and give her a big hug.

            When my dad and mom finally come into the house after saying hello to everybody, they embrace my grandma, and we sit down for dinner. We have a typical Israeli dinner: Pita, olives, hummus, pickles, and lots of salad.

“Thanks for dinner”, I tell my grandma in Hebrew. The only other language she knows is Yiddish, and I have know idea in hell how to speak that, so I am forced to use my Hebrew.

“You are welcome. I’m just so glad to see all of you again”, she says.

“So are you going to call Shmulik now?” I ask my dad.

“Later. I think we should go to the cemetery now”, my dad replies. My dad’s words dampened the mood because it reminded us that my grandpa is no longer with us. Last summer my grandpa’s liver failed, and after a week of struggle, he passed away. My dad was the only one that was able to see him before he died because of the war that was going on in Israel. I was supposed to try-out for the professional club last year, but my mom did not want me to go because of the war. Although it was probably the right decision, I never fully forgave my mom because it denied me the chance to see my grandpa one last time.

            Although the reason I came to Israel was for soccer, I forgot it even existed when we were in the cemetery. This particular cemetery in Israel has tons of trees and plants, and the graves are separated into small groups. Once we found the grave, we each put a flower on it and stood silently for what seemed like an hour. We then visited my grandpa’s brothers, and sister’s graves, and then returned home.

            Once I got home, it was back to business as usual. While my dad called Shmulik, I went outside to get a light workout in. I walked down to the far end of the kibbutz, where there is a street soccer court, with two small goals.

As I walked down the main road to the court, I notice how much the kibbutz had changed since I was there last. There were cars parked all over the sides of the road, and all the trees and plants that used to be on the sides of the road were gone. As I turned on the lights to the court, I felt weird being there all by myself. In all of my previous visits to Israel, I would have huge street soccer games with the kids from the kibbutz. We would play almost every night, from around eight to twelve in the morning, if not later. Because a kibbutz is like a private community and is nothing like a big city, parents do not care how late you are out, and do not have to worry. When the lights finally took full effect, I began to warm up. After jogging and stretching, I went through my workout routine. I started by juggling and doing free-style tricks for around half-an-hour, and then go on to shooting. After an hour, I cooled down and headed on back to the house. As I came inside the house, I found my dad watching a soccer match on TV. When my dad saw me come in he turns off the TV, and he tells me about his conversation with Shmulik.

“Good Workout?” my dad asks.

“Yeah, just took it easy. Trying to get my legs back from the flight, you know,” I answered.

“Yeah, well it’s a good thing you took it easy because you start tomorrow.” “What! Are you serious?”

“Yes. Shmulik says that they have practice tomorrow, and the head of the club Avram Bachar wants to meet with us.”

“So is he the head of the entire club or what?”

“Well he is the head of the entire youth teams for the club.”

“Okay. So what time is this all happening?”

“Avram wants to meet us at four. The practice starts at five, and you have to be in the clubhouse at four-thirty. We are going to leave at one-thirty tomorrow and meet Shmulik at his work. He wants to see you, and talk to you before the practice and the interview with Avram.”

“So is Shmulik going to come with us to the meeting and the practice?”

“He is coming to the meeting, but can not stay for the practice tomorrow. He said he will try to stay for the practice another day.”

“Sounds good. I think I am going to go to bed now. Good night.”

That night I barely got any sleep. I kept on thinking of what it was going to be like tomorrow. How good were the players? Are they better than I am? Am I going to make it? If I make it what is going to happen? After thinking about every possible outcome at least three times, I finally fell asleep to dreams of playing soccer professionally for Hapoel Tel-Aviv.

The following morning I made sure to eat extra healthy and to rest well. After eating a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and salad, I tried stay off my feet as much as possible. At one o’clock, I started to get ready for practice. Although I was supposed to get clothes from the club, I was not going to take any chances, and packed everything I would need to play. Before my dad and I took off, everyone wished me luck.

The ride to Tel-Aviv only took an hour an a half, but to me it seemed like five. I was really nervous, and just wanted to start playing. My dad talked to me through the entire ride. He told me I would be fine, and that I just needed to be confident and believe in my abilities. Although I knew he was right, it did not really comfort me. I was still nervous, and kept on thinking about whether I was going to good or not. I calmed down considerably when we reached Shmulik’s work. I was looking forward to seeing him, and it took my mind off the try-out. We parked outside of his office, and went inside to find him.

“Hey, there he is. How are you doing Nadav?” Shmulik asks me.

“I’m doing well, how are you?” I ask.

“Great. Ah, Safi how are you?” he asks my dad.

“Great. It’s so good to see you again”

“Nadav, you look good. How are feeling? Are you still a little jet lagged?”

“Yeah, a little. I’m also still sore from the tournament.” I flew to Israel right after I finished a soccer tournament in San Diego. The tournament was the second best tournament in the U.S., and my team got all the way to the finals, where we lost after ninety minutes of regulation, thirty minutes of overtime, and seven rounds of penalty kicks.

“Yes, your dad told me about the tournament. So besides the soreness, everything else is good, right?”

‘I guess. I am a little bit nervous though.”

“You shouldn’t be. If you were one of the best players on the second best team in the second best tournament in the U.S., then you should be just fine.” Just like that, my nervousness disappeared. I realized that what he said was true, and that if I had what it took to play with the best in the U.S., I could do it in Israel as well.

“So, are we going to go now?”

“Sure.”

On the drive to the soccer complex, I concentrated on what I wanted to do. What am I going to do if this happens? What if this happens? Before every game I always go through different scenarios, and think about what I would do, this way if the situation occurs in the game, I am prepared. When we got to the complex, I saw the biggest, greenest, most beautiful soccer fields I have ever seen.

“Wow, this is amazing,” I said.

“Yeah, and you are going to be playing on it soon,” Shmulik said with a smile.

“So are we going to see Avram now?” I asked

“Yeah, he should be in the office right over here.” Shmulik knocked on one of the office doors, and a few seconds later, a man in his late fifties with gray hair and a Hapoel Tel-Aviv polo shirt stepped out.

“Shmulik, how are you doing?”

“Very good, Avram, very good.”

“And this must be Nadav. How are you doing?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Good, good. How about you guys come in, and we can talk a little.” In the meeting, we talked about what the plans for evaluating me. Avram said that they would know within four practices whether they wanted me. My dad then started asking about what would happen if they wanted me. He said that I would stay in a kind of hotel just for youth players of the club. He also said that I would have schooling, and told us how I would be taken care of. After awhile, Avram said we would continue the conversation later, but now I had to go get ready for practice. Avram showed me to the clubhouse for the team I was going to train with, and gave me training gear to change in to. After changing, I went to the clubhouse, and introduced myself to the players on the team. The guys were nice to me, and it made me feel good. I then sat down and started to concentrate again. After about ten minutes, the coach came in with his three assistants, and introduced them to me. He then ordered the team to the field for practice. The next two hours were a blur to me.

“He played great. He was amazing, according to Avram.” My dad and I were back home, and he was telling my mom about the practice. “Everything he did was right. You should have been there Martha.”

“Well that’s great,” my mom said, un-enthusiastically. “So what exactly did Avram say after the practice?”

“He said that Nadav played great, and that if he could play like that tomorrow, they don’t even need to see him play anymore.”

“So basically, they want him?”

“Yeah, isn’t that great?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. I’m just not exactly sure what that means.”

“It means that if he plays like he did today, tomorrow, then they are going to offer him a spot on the team.”

“I know that, but does that that mean he is going to stay here and what about school and the army?” If you are an Israeli citizen, which I am, when you turn eighteen you have to go to the army.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure…”

“Well, don’t you think that’s something you should look into?” I began to sense that my mom was not as happy about the possibility of me making the team as my dad. It seemed as if she did not want me to stay.

“Are you okay, why are you so mad?” I ask my mom.

“I’m not mad; I’m just worried about how quick this is happening.”

“Well let’s just see what happens tomorrow, and we’ll talk about it then alright?” My dad says.

That night I was even more nervous than the previous night, but for a completely different reason. I got the feeling that my mom did not want me to stay in Israel to play soccer, and no matter what happened tomorrow, she was going to make me go home. My dad had the same suspicion. The following day on the ride to practice my dad told me to forget about what my mom said and just concentrate on making the team in the first place. I knew what I had to do, and that was make my mom make a decision.

 Again, the two hours of practice passed like a blur, and again, I played great. After practice, Avram approached my dad, and told him that I made the team. He said that they were going to set up a room for me in their residency camp, and would start all the paperwork. My dad then told Avram about my mom and her concerns. Avram said that we should go talk it out, and then cal him tomorrow with our decision. Somehow, deep down in the pit of my stomach, that was the last time I was going to see Avram.

When we got home I expected my mom to object to me staying, but not the way she did. Right after my dad told her what Avram said, she exploded.

“It’s a horrible idea to stay! You are going to ruin your life by not finishing school, and going to the army! You are going to die in the army!”

“That’s not true! He is going to finish High School here, and the army is not going to be the real thing for him since he will be playing soccer. They will just station him near Tel-Aviv, and he will not go anywhere.” My parents started to yell even louder and I walked out of the room because I did not want to see, or hear it. Five minutes later, my dad came in the room to talk to me.

“Your mom is nuts. Everything she said is untrue. If you stay, you are not going to ruin your life, and you are not going to die in the army. I can promise you that.”

“I know.”

“So, it is up to you. You can stay, and we will work everything out. Your schooling and the army will be figured out. It is all up to you.” I knew what I wanted to do, to stay. However, I wandered what would happen if I did. What will my mom do? What will happen between her and my dad? I thought I knew the answers to these questions, and that is why I told my dad that I was going home. He understood, he was proud of my decision to put family before soccer, and told me that if I want to, I can always come back next year.

I spent my last couple of days in Israel without a soccer ball. I had worked so hard and sacrificed so much for this opportunity, and it was taken away by something that had nothing to do with soccer. Just the thought of playing soccer for those days made me mad at my mom. For the second straight year, my life dream was shot down not because of my soccer abilities, but by my mom. It took me a good two weeks to let it go, and continue forward. Although I was unhappy with my mom, I eventually forgave her, because I know that family is more important than anything else is.