A historical film in the making by Michele Kupfer shows the connection “of all of us—Jewish people from Israel and the Diaspora—as part of a big nation with a long tradition.”
Swimming has always been at the center of Michele Kupfer’s life. She swam as a child growing up in Florida, she swam during her childhood summers in Israel, and she had the amazing fortune to swim for the Israeli National Swim Team from 1977 to 1982.
Kupfer was also a member of the 1980 Israeli Olympic team, though sadly did not compete in Moscow because of the U.S. boycott of Russia. Fortunately, one year later, she had the opportunity to experience what she describes as her “personal and athletic coming of age.” She and her teammates took the gold at the 1981 Maccabiah Games in Israel.
Kupfer’s Maccabiah experience was so personally inspiring and life-changing that she has found innovative ways to share the games with the rest of the world. In fact, she is reuniting her championship swim—40 years later—to complete in the 21st Maccabiah Games in Israel this month from July 12 to July 26 (the opening ceremony takes place on July 14).
More than that, she is producing a movie, “Parting the Waters: The Story of The Maccabiah Games,” to tell the dramatic, inspiring and often not well-known stories of the Maccabiah, first held in 1932, years before the establishment of modern-day Israel in 1948.
In the process, she has been capturing meaningful stories of the game’s participants, as well as revisiting such inspiring and chilling chapters in Jewish sports history—namely, the 1936 Berlin Olympics and the massacre of 11 Israeli athletes and coaches at the 1972 games in Munich.
Michele Kupfer films Israeli Gershon Shefa, one of her coaches, who competed in the 1960, 1964 and 1968 Summer Olympics. Credit: Courtesy.
‘The perfect opportunity to tell this story’
The first Maccabiah Games were held in Tel Aviv just before Hitler’s rise to power in 1933 and 16 years before the founding of the modern State of Israel. That year, the Maccabiah brought together more than 400 Jewish athletes from Europe, North America and the Middle East. The games quickly grew in importance and showcased the talents of such future Olympians as American backstroker Lenny Krayzelburg and nine-time champion Mark Spitz.
Kupfer has stayed connected to many swimmers and coaches in the Maccabiah swimming world, including Krayzelburg (four Olympic gold medals and a former world record-holder), Nir Shamir (a team member from both the Olympic and Maccabiah team) and Dr. Naama Constantini, one of her first coaches, and now professor of sports medicine and director of the Heidi Rothberg Sports Medicine Center at Shaare Zedek Medical Center in Jerusalem.
Michele Kupfer at the Israeli trials for the Masters Maccabiah 2022, in which she broke a record for her age group. Credit: Courtesy.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, several events and insights got Kupfer thinking about making the film.
First, noted being touched when she saw her former teammates rallying around a team member who was dying of cancer. “It got me thinking: What is the story here?” Kupfer did some research and discovered that there was no in-depth movie about Maccabiah, despite it being the third-largest athletic competition in the world behind the Olympics and the FISU World University Games.
Kupfer said she began to observe the rise of anti-Semitism in the world, as well as what she describes as “Israel’s big PR problem with our youth.” She notes what others have said, that young Jews often feel disconnected and even apathetic. She thought that this was “the perfect opportunity to tell this story, a human-interest story. And it is not political!”
And so, she started a 501(c)(3) charitable organization that is currently raising money to cover the costs of filming. She has already acquired Maccabiah footage going back to 1932 and will be filming this month at the Maccabiah Games. She is also aware that the clock is ticking on interviewing some older Maccabiah athletes, noting that “we are at a pivotal point—some won’t be alive much longer.”
Kupfer hopes the film will be completed sometime in 2023.
The Israeli National Swim Team in Europe in 1980. Credit: Courtesy.
‘We were all in’
Given Kupfer’s deep and extensive ties to the swimming world, as well as to Israel and the Jewish people, she is well-suited for the film project. She grew up in a strongly Jewish-identified and Zionistic home in South Florida and was a self-described “big Florida swimmer” by age 12.
Her late father, Dr. Sanford Kuvin (who died in 2015), was a physician and world-renowned researcher of infectious and tropical diseases. In 1970, he was invited to lecture at Hebrew University. When her mother, Gabrielle, went to Israel for the first time soon after his visit, she felt that Israel was where she truly belonged. The Kuvins considered aliyah (immigration to Israel), but Kuvin’s medical practice in the United States made that difficult.
Still, the family began splitting their time between Israel and the United States.
Swimmer Michele Kupfer (then Kuvin) diving off block No. 5 in 1981. Credit: Courtesy.
“We were all in; we bought an apartment in Israel and spent three to four months a year in Israel,” reported Kupfer. In 1976, her father founded and acted as the chairman of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem’s Sanford F. Kuvin Center for the Study of Infectious and Tropical Diseases, the world’s leading research center for malaria and other infectious diseases.
Kupfer looked forward to their months each year in Israel, though noted that she was worried she might not be able to continue swimming. “I said to my dad: I can’t go to Israel and not swim!” She joined the YMCA in Jerusalem and began to swim regularly at the pool there. “In 1977, I was 14, and Israel was already thinking about the 1980s Olympics. Kupfer remembered thinking, “Israel swimming is pretty damn good as a team, but they wouldn’t have made it to the [medal] podium.”
She was pleased when asked to consider joining the national team. “It didn’t take me a second to say, ‘Are you kidding me … YES!” She then became an Israeli citizen. She recalled that “it wasn’t easy. Some had the feeling I was taking a spot from another Israeli while I was going back and forth” from Israel to America.
Kupfer made the 1980s Olympic team as a 17-year-old. “I was a little scared; there was so much hatred. We discussed it with our peer group. We figured we’d go as a team, and [for safety] they wouldn’t let us out.” The Israeli team ultimately did not go due to the boycott of the Moscow Olympics.
But in 1981, Kupfer got her chance to swim on a large world stage. “The 1981 Maccabiah Games became a huge focus. I wanted to represent Israel and show the world what we were capable of.” The team won the gold medal, and Kupfer said she still becomes emotional looking back at the awards ceremony. “Playing ‘Hatikvah’ (at the medal ceremony)—there is nothing like it!”
Michele Kupfer (then Kuvin) at the 1981 Maccabiah games. Credit: Courtesy.
‘The power of sports’
Kupfer has continued to swim for most of her adult life as a way to stay in shape. “I never thought of competing … until now!” In just a week, she will have an opportunity to both swim and produce a film that will tell the important story of the Maccabiah to the world.
Former teammates and members of the Israeli swimming community share Kupfer’s excitement for both the reunion and the field. Constantini, the sports-medicine professor, proclaimed that the reunion is “very exciting.”
She pointed out an especially poignant personal connection: “For me, it is also a kind of memorial for the late Lior Birkhahn, who I coached from the age of 8, and who swam with Michele.” Birkhahn was an Israeli swimmer who died of cancer at age 56 in May 2020; her 14-year-old daughter, Gili, is competing this year in the Maccabiah games.
As for Constantini, she is swimming in memory of her late mother, Aliza Wirz, who won in the Third Maccabiah Games in 1950. “That was 70 years ago!” she says proudly.
Constantini said Kupfer’s film is important because it shows the connection “of all of us—Jewish people from Israel and the Diaspora—as part of a big nation with a long tradition.”
Krayzelburg, 46, who runs a swim academy for kids, continues to be a big supporter of both the Maccabiah and the film. “Maccabiah is an incredible celebration of Jewish heritage in our eternal homeland. Through the power of sports, it is able to bring together Jews from all corners of the world to Israel with a meaningful purpose to celebrate and honor our rich culture and heritage. Being part of this incredible event has always been a humbling and touching experience for me, and Michele’s film will share some unique and inspiring experiences of athletes that ‘lived’ the games and how it has impacted their lives.”
Thanks to the Maccabiah Games, some 10,000 athletes from 80 countries will soon arrive in Israel to compete in more than 40 sports. And thanks to Michele Kupfer’s passion and to “Parting the Waters: The Story of The Maccabiah Games,” the impact of the Maccabiah will be felt for generations.
Members of the 1981 Israeli National Swim Team reunite after 40 years. Credit: Courtesy.
Ronen Bar-Abraham, director of Adraba-The Shirley Lowy Center for Children with Disabilities, says it was founded “to fulfill an unmet need in Israel.”
Two 13-year-olds with autism—surrounded by family, teachers, guests and Rabbi Mikie Goldstein—celebrated their b’nai mitzvah during a special Thursday-morning musical Shacharit service at the Adat Shalom–Emanuel in Rehovot, Israel. Aviv and Yair put on tefillin, carried the Torah scroll, and recited the Torah blessings and prayers with the help of an augmented communication device. The bar mitzvah took place on May 26 as part of the Masorti (Conservative) Movement’s Adraba center, which has been developing and conducting bar and bat mitzvah programs for children with disabilities for more than 25 years now. To date, more than 5,000 children have taken part in the program.
It continues to be a busy season for participants in the program. From Akko to Haifa, Karmiel, Kfar Vradim and the egalitarian area of the Western Wall in Jerusalem, 100-plus teens with disabilities from families of all backgrounds and levels of observance will celebrate b’nai mitzvah at 20 venues between March 24 and the end of June.
According to Ronen Bar-Abraham, director of Adraba-The Shirley Lowy Center for Children With Disabilities, the bar and bat mitzvah program was founded “to fulfill an unmet need in Israel.” Bar-Abraham is proud of the program and its commitment to serve the needs of all Israelis. “The Masorti movement believes that every Jew with disabilities or challenges is a full and equal member of Klal Yisrael and should be included in a minyan as is every Jew.”
Aviv carries the Torah at his bar mitzvah in Rehovot, Israel, on May 26, 2022. Photo by Howard Blas.
Goldstein, the English-born rabbi who moved to Israel in 1989 and has been leading Adat Shalom-Emanuel since 2014, appreciates the unique nature of the program. “It is a rare chance for these children and families to celebrate a Jewish life-cycle event they might not otherwise have thought possible,” he said.
He appreciates that the students come from “all sorts of religious and non-religious backgrounds—from Orthodox to completely secular to celebrate together” and believes “the program shows that pluralism can exist.”
‘It is inspiring every time’
The special day started with Bar-Abraham welcoming the 40 family members, teachers and guests and putting them at ease. “Shalom and mazal tov to all who enter! You can sit where you want—men and women together.” He also reminded excited guests to hold off on showering the b’nai mitzvah with candy until they finish leading the service and reading from the Torah.
Adraba staff shared a PowerPoint and video of the program, which described the curriculum and preparation process for the more than 200 students enrolled in 30 Israeli schools.
Ruth Rubin Lavie, who came on aliyah in 1978, began playing “Hinei Mah Tov” on her guitar. She is a congregant, b’nai mitzvah teacher and singer who regularly volunteers her musical talents by accompanying on guitar at the services. “It is inspiring every time to see the happiness of kids coming to the Torah and of parents’ kvelling,” she said.
Guests used the red, hardcover B’chol D’rachecha accessible siddur, for which the Adraba Center and the Masorti Movement have received awards from the Shalem Foundation (2010) and JDC-Ashalim. The siddur utilizes simple explanations, various colors and fonts, and picture icons that assist those unable to read standard Hebrew.
Ruth Rubin Lavie played “Hinei Mah Tov” at the ceremony on May 26, 2022. Photo by Howard Blas.
Throughout the entire service, Aviv and Yair’s teachers patiently stood next to them with smiles on their faces. The teachers helped their students remain on task and facilitated student reading and singing with their augmented communication devices.
The service kicked off with the young men offering personal blessings. “Thank you, God, for giving me the ability to smile and be with my family.”
Goldstein and the teachers consistently modeled sensitivity, respect and inclusivity for all participants and guests. Prior to the central Amidah prayer, Goldstein asked: “Those who are able, please stand.” When the b’nai mitzvah boys had difficulties remaining at the bimah, a staff member seamlessly walked with them around the room until they were ready to return to the service.
Each boy was called to the Torah by name to recite the Torah blessings. Goldstein served as the Torah reader. Yair’s mother, Iris Elkobi, addressed her son, saying “despite the challenges, you are a leader in all areas. … Your dream is to be a millionaire—always listen to your dreams!”
Iris added, “This program is so special. It is a big mitzvah. The bar mitzvah is important for him and for the family, too.”
His father, Chaim, is proud of all five of his sons, but noted that this bar mitzvah was particularly miragesh, “emotional” in Hebrew. He elaborated, “It was so special seeing Yair in his tefillin. Today is a d’var kadosh—‘a holy event.’ ”
Yair reads Hebrew at his bar mitzvah in Rehovot, Israel, on May 26, 2022. Photo by Howard Blas.
Yair’s school bus driver, Aron, grew emotional when he described the significance of the bar mitzvah. “This program is more important than tanks and missiles,” he said, acknowledging the amount of money Israel spends on defense while also emphasizing the need for ongoing funding to support the b’nai mitzvah program.
At the end of the service, Yair and Aviv received their own personalized copy of the siddur, as well as personalized blessings from parents and teachers. The ceremony took place under a large tallit. The young men were then showered with candy, lovingly tossed by kvelling guests.
The celebration continued with a festive breakfast of bread, salads, cakes and pastries outside in the synagogue’s specially decorated garden.
As the guests said their final “Mazal Tovs,” Adir and Yair left to return to school. The Adraba staff now turned their attention to the 20 students looking forward to celebrating their same milestone before the school year ends. In a few months, it will be time to begin preparing even more Israelis with disabilities for their special days.
The red, hardcover accessible siddur, used by the boys at the ceremony in Rehovot, Israel. Photo by Howard Blas.
The bar mitzvah venue, Adat Shalom–Emanuel in Rehovot, Israel, on May 26, 2022. Photo by Howard Blas.
It is a well-kept secret that most tennis players – Israeli or otherwise – will never be able to support themselves playing professional tennis.
In many ways, Israeli tennis player Daniel Cukierman is one of the lucky ones – he has a Plan B. If things don’t work out playing professional tennis, he can rely on his real estate degree from an American university to make a living. Chances are, he will need it.
It is a well-kept secret that most tennis players – Israeli or otherwise – will never be able to support themselves playing professional tennis. For tennis fans who will soon be swept up in the excitement of the French Open (starting May 22), followed by Wimbledon (July) and the US Open (late August), this is a sad reality that most professional players and fans have not considered. And for good reason. The glamour and prize money earned by the Rafas (Nadal) and Serenas (Williams) often take center court and overshadow the plight of lower-ranked professional players.
Consider this: The French Tennis Federation will hand out $46 million in the upcoming French Open, with the male and female champion each earning $2.3m. Serena Williams, 40, earned $45.9m. in 2021, and Roger Federer, through prize money and endorsements, was the No. 8 highest-paid athlete in 2019, making $93.4m., while Novak Djokovic came in No. 17, with a total of $50.6m. Over the course of their careers, Nadal, Federer and Djokovic have taken in more than $125m. each in prize money.
A handful of Israelis have been able to earn a living playing professional tennis. Shahar Pe’er, now 35, retired in 2017 after 13 years playing professional tennis. At one time, she was No. 11 in the world in the singles ranking – the highest of any Israeli tennis player in history. Peer earned $5,148,411 over the course of her career.
Dudi Sela, 37, reached a singles ranking of 29. In his 18-year pro career, he earned $3,935,113.
DANIEL CUKIERMAN playing for Israel’s Davis Cup Team. (credit: Israel Tennis Federation)
The famous doubles team of Andy Ram and Yoni Erlich dissolved in 2014 when Ram, now 42, retired. He earned $2,647,616 over the course of his 18-year professional career. Erlich, 45, is still at it. He and Ram reached a world No. 5 doubles ranking. Erlich is entering his 26th professional season and to date has earned $2,810,794.
Recently retired Julia Glushko, who reached No. 79 in the world over the course of her 15-year pro career, earned $998,044.
While these earnings may sound impressive, players incur extraordinary ongoing costs. Unlike in team sports where travel, lodging and food costs are absorbed by the team, tennis players are essentially “independent contractors” and can incur costs anywhere from $40,000-$100,000 a year if they “go it alone,” traveling without coaches or trainers, or up $150,000 to $200,000 if they field a full support team.
Some of the less lucky Israelis who played on the pro tour include Amir Weintraub. Weintraub, who reached a career high of No. 161 over his 15-year career, has been outspoken on just how difficult it is to earn a living for a player not in the top 100. In a 2013 post on weintraubamir.com titled, “Waiting For an Offer from the Bundesliga,” he wrote, referring to the top-flight German soccer league: “If you’re not a top-100 tennis player, you’re doomed. Financially speaking, it will take you a few years to see that you are broke, you’ve spent all of your parents’ money and you’ll ask yourself why you haven’t pursued a football career instead.”
In a 2016 Facebook post he added, “The bottom line is we the players outside the first 100 are pawns for the top-ranked players and we are disposable, as simple as that… To be a tennis player is a financial loss, period. If you are not in the top 100 you lose no matter how you roll it.”
Even with such dire predictions, young Israelis – and players around the world – are working to realize their dreams by giving it a go on the professional tour. Yishai Oliel, 22, is one example. He is currently ranked 336 and has earned only $76,416 thus far in his five years as a professional player.
Others are rediscovering an option that can pay dividends down the road. They are following University of Southern California tennis standout Cukierman’s “Plan B,” choosing to play tennis at an American university. In the process, they hone their tennis game and often receive a free college education, while still leaving open the option to play professionally.
According to Israeli tennis legend Ram, Israelis playing tennis at American colleges is not a new phenomenon. “We’ve had hundreds of Israelis who have graduated from US colleges so far,” says Ram, who currently serves as director of high performance for Israel Tennis & Education Centers (ITEC). He stresses the importance of a good education for tennis players and notes that he always heard this message growing up and continues to deliver this message to aspiring tennis players. “All of my life, my parents said, ‘You are a student, then you are a tennis player. Education is before tennis!”
NOAM YITZHAKI, global relations manager for ITEC, started playing tennis at age eight in Kiryat Shmona to “stay away from rockets” being launched on his northern childhood town. He reached the rank of 1,008 in the world in 2008 and feels tennis “changed my life, taught skills and values and opened doors.” Yitzhaki, who recently received his master’s degree in exercise physiology from the University of South Florida, is a big fan of Israelis considering the option of playing college tennis – and talks it up with young players. “One of the most significant opportunities Israeli kids receive is the opportunity to play NCAA college tennis,” he says, referring to the major governing body for American intercollegiate sports.
NOAM YITZHAKI, former pro player, works for Israel Tennis & Education Centers. (credit: Yoni Yair/ITEC)
Ram did not play college tennis, but he almost had to pursue his college studies back in Israel earlier than expected. “My career was almost finished at 22. I recovered from two surgeries and was lucky – I came back.” As soon as Ram retired from professional tennis, he pursued his bachelor’s degree and will soon complete his MBA; he currently owns a chain of ice cream stores throughout the country.
Ram understands the desire to follow one’s dreams of playing professional tennis. “We give players the opportunity to be world champs. Do it. It is priceless!” At the same time, he acknowledges that it is expensive and that most will not become world champions. Ram offers an important insight that seems to sum up the experience for most currently playing tennis and studying hard at US universities. “Tennis is a great vehicle for life. Most won’t make a living with tennis, but through tennis.” Their tennis skills will open all kinds of doors and opportunities.
Many attending US colleges are already seeing results – despite challenges they have endured in the process.
DANIEL DUDOCKIN will always love tennis – even after he completes his bachelor’s degree in economics and finance and his master’s degree in finance at the University of Nevada, Reno this June – and hopefully lands a lucrative financial services job. “I love tennis. It gave me a lot. But I’m not going to try to go pro.” He hopes to begin his career in finance in the United States and maybe one day return to Israel.
Dudockin initially learned that attending college in the US might be a viable alternative while serving in the IDF as a mitstayen sport (sports standout). “I evaluated myself objectively. I know that if I was [ranked] 200-300 in the world, it would be very hard to make a living. I heard from Julia [Glushko] and Amir [Weintraub] how they lived. It was not a good way to live financially.”
Once Dudockin decided that tennis at an American university might be an option, he needed assistance with the process. “A consultant helped me find the best fit of weather and culture, taught me how to speak to American coaches, and he explained how to draft a letter and make a nice video.” Dudockin also had to take the TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language) and the SAT (college admission test). He sent emails to 250 coaches and waited for offers.
Once enrolled at the University of Nevada, Dudockin faced additional academic challenges. He had writing tutors to help with essays. “The more I went, the more I understood my grammar mistakes,” Dudockin adds. “My English was good compared to Israelis but it was not good enough. I had to work twice as hard as many other students.”
Socially, Dudockin mainly connected with other international athletes. In his senior year, he recruited another Israeli tennis player, Gilad Tamar, to join the team. That same year, a Chabad House opened on campus. “It was really fun. I went for Shabbat dinner every weekend I was here, and I went for Passover. There were students who spoke Hebrew and [Chabad] Rabbi Dani [Libersohn] too!”
ADI BEN ARI, a junior honor roll biomedical engineering student at Binghamton University in New York, has also found Chabad and the Jewish community on campus to be supportive. He is appreciative that a tennis coach in Israel suggested he consider playing tennis at an American university. While he had help with the process and needed to take the SATs and submit videos of his playing, the fact that he was a US citizen made the process a bit easier. “Binghamton was a good fit academically and for tennis. I finished my army service in July 2019 and started college in the fall of 2019.”
Ben-Ari faced challenges such as being older than most students and having “a different mindset.” He was also far from home, taking classes in English and navigating college during the pandemic. “We had to leave the dorms [during COVID] and I had to go to an aunt’s home in Massachusetts. They drove down, moved me out and took me in.” He spent two months there, taking online classes.
Ben-Ari has enjoyed playing college tennis but is especially focused on his academic career. He hopes to intern for a biomedical device company in Israel this summer and will return to Israel after graduating.
LERA PATIUK always thought she’d make it as a professional tennis player and looked down on those who considered playing college tennis. “When I was a junior, I saw college as a sign that you are not good enough to go pro,” Patiuk says. “College was a Plan B.” Then, at age 16, after losing several matches in a row, she began to have doubts. Patiuk spoke with her coach, Asaf Yamin. “He said, give it a chance for two or three years. You can go to college and not go pro – or you can quit tennis.”
Nonetheless, Patiuk continued to dream of a pro career. “College was never an option for me.” She nonetheless continued to receive offers for full college scholarships. “I was never interested. I never even replied.” Then, Yamin moved to the US to pursue a job as director of international operations at Junior Tennis Champions Center (JTCC) in College Park, Maryland. “I was 19. I was asking, ‘What am I going to do with my life? I am barely winning matches. I feel trapped.’ I was trying to figure it out. I decided I wanted to go to college – without knowing what it means.”
She started looking back at old emails from college coaches – some were four or five years old. “Some coaches didn’t reply, others did. I didn’t care about academics at the time. I just wanted to get better and get back on tour.” Then, Patiuk got her lucky break. “The coach at the University of Michigan was happy to hear from me.” Two other schools also pursued her. “I visited Michigan in September 2016, told them I would come, and played in the 2017 season.”
Patiuk says she was “injured a lot that first season” and was “not in the right shape.” Her second year was even more difficult. “Everything went downhill. I got pressure from coaches and the team who only wanted to see W’s [wins].”
While Patiuk experienced cultural differences with the American students and felt she “couldn’t blend in,” she made friends with her teammates and with other Israelis on campus – including Israeli athletes. She also received a great education, albeit with some struggles studying in English. “My first year, I had to translate every word using Google Translate.” Yet she acknowledges, “There were lots of benefits, like a free degree.”
Former coach Yamin remembers the advice he offered Patiuk when she was reluctant to consider college. “I told her, ‘going to college is not a failure. You can get something in return for tennis.” Yamin says that “One percent of 18-year-olds globally are ready to go pro.” He encouraged Patiuk to consider college while leaving the door open on a pro career if that was what she desired. “If you go to a good school, and play in a good conference and the level is good, and you want to go pro, then you can.”
The idea of playing professional tennis – or staying in the US – is far from Patiuk’s mind. She studied molecular biology, and couldn’t wait to return to Israel upon graduation. She worked at Sheba Medical Center, Tel Hashomer, and is now considering graduate school in Israel. She now works as a clinical data manager.
LIKE PATIUK, Bar Botzer never took emails from US college coaches very seriously – at first. He was too busy experiencing tennis success, which included being in the top 30 in the world for juniors and playing for Israel’s Davis Cup team. As he was completing his IDF service, Botzer felt he had the potential to be successful playing tennis. “But I couldn’t afford it,” he says. He calculated the costs of coaching, fitness and other expenses. “The way I was doing things, I wouldn’t be successful. And I had no money in the bank.”
During lunch with a friend one day, Botzer began thinking about the college option. “You need to try it,” my friend said. “I took the SATs and I spoke to Daniel Cukierman. I saw he was being recruited. I spoke with a few schools and had some initial problems with eligibility. I was all set to attend IDC [now called Reichman University]. The coach at Wake Forest [University, in North Carolina,] persisted in getting me eligible. He called and said, ‘We will bring you.”
Botzer went on to have a very successful tennis and academic career at Wake Forest, and benefited from an additional year of eligibility afforded athletes due to the pandemic. “We won the ACC [Atlantic Coast Conference] and NCAA my first year. It was the best tennis moment of my life.” At Wake Forest, Botzer was named to the All-Tournament Team at the NCAA Championship and the Intercollegiate Tennis Association (ITA) National Team Indoor Championship, he won the clinching match at the ACC Championship, and he became only the ninth player in program history to garner All-America honors in singles, as he advanced to the Round of 16 at the NCAA Singles Championship before withdrawing due to injury.
Botzer loved the facilities at Wake Forest and says the coaches were unbelievable. He enjoyed attending Hillel on campus, but notes “everyone was 18 [years old] – American 18 and not Israeli 18!” He found that most students on campus had “different priorities and different things on their minds.” Botzer opted to stay focused on his grades.
Botzer used his tennis connections to land a summer job in New Jersey, finished school early and started his MBA at the prestigious Darden School of Business at the University of Virginia. He continued to play tennis as a graduate student, even competing against his old school, Wake Forest. “We will have some awkward moments,” Botzer said playfully before the start of the season.
Botzer has received an excellent education and feels his tennis game has improved as a result of his college playing years. He says that in Israel, “people think that if you go to college, you are giving up on tennis. That is not true. You see so many people like Brandon Nakashima [attended University of Virginia, now No. 80 in the world] and Jenson Tyler ‘J. T.’ Brooksby [Baylor University, current No. 43] who went to college and play pro.”
While Botzer will not pursue a professional career, he continues to love tennis and says, “I will play tennis until I am 70.” Botzer has managed to earn $28,548 in his pro career to date – pocket change compared to the expected starting salary for a graduate of a US business school.
Meanwhile, Cukierman continues to enjoy the best of both worlds. Cukierman just finished his fourth year at USC, where he had a stellar career. During his junior year, he was ranked No. 1 in the US in singles among men’s college tennis players in the ITA Division I Men’s Individual National Rankings. While Cukierman, like most Israeli tennis players, found the culture and social scene at college to be different than what he was used to in Israel, he enjoyed the support of his teammates. “The team was like a family to me,” says Cukierman, who has always enjoyed being part of a team. “I prefer to play as part of a team, like with the Davis Cup in Israel.”
Cukierman studied real estate development and feels it will serve him well now and in the future. “It is something I can do while playing tennis. It is a good option.” Cukierman, who has a career-high ATP doubles ranking of 424 and career earnings (singles and doubles) of $47,903, is on the road competing this summer. “It is not easy to succeed,” reports Cukierman,” but I will give 100%.” Thus far in May, he has already played three tournaments – two in Buenos Aires, Argentina and one in Montenegro. Win or lose, he has his USC degree and networks to help assure future success.
While tennis continues to be a useful tool for an increasing number of Israelis – regardless of whether they pursue professional careers – Andy Ram sees an additional benefit to Israelis playing college tennis in the United States. “If they play well and are good students, they represent Israel well at their colleges. Our kids are our ambassadors.” Good hasbara (public diplomacy) for Israel goes a long way these days.■
“If I stayed, there would have been too many temptations, so we decided to come here. It has been a fantastic roller-coaster experience!”
When Jonathan Balkin traveled from South Africa to Israel in 1971 to participate in Hadracha, a course that included participants from Betar, Bnei Akiva and Habonim, he had no idea he would meet his future wife on the plane, make aliyah, spend his entire professional medical career at Shaare Zedek Medical Center in Jerusalem and live in Alon Shvut, surrounded by supportive and loving community members.
On the plane from South Africa to Israel, Balkin became friends with Terri, a female Habonim participant from the town of Stellenbosch near Cape Town. After two years of writing letters (“There was no Zoom or even TV in South Africa, and calls were very expensive”), Balkin reports, “The friendship blossomed into a meaningful relationship.” Jonathan and Terri eventually married and made aliyah in January, 1977, the day after he “qualified” (completed his studies) in medicine. Despite coming from a prominent medical family where both his father and grandfather were doctors – and a likely promising career in South Africa – Balkin knew it was the right time to make aliyah.
Balkin concedes, “In South Africa at that time, it was paradise if you were white. I personally came from a family where my grandfather was one of the premier physicians in Johannesburg and had taught all of my teachers. He was an active communal person, and was very involved in setting up and running the hevra kadisha [Jewish burial society], which was really the tzedakah of the community. I had a fantastic career open to me there but I wanted to come to Israel!”
Terri was less certain. “We had discussed coming to Israel in our letters, and sorted out a lot,” notes Balkin, acknowledging that Terri was less certain in those days about coming to Israel. “If you asked her in those days, she would say she didn’t want to come. But having come, she is eternally grateful.”
Dr. Balkin adds thoughtfully, “If I stayed, there would have been too many temptations, so we decided to come here. It has been a fantastic roller-coaster experience!”
An Israeli flag [Ilustrative] (credit: MARC ISRAEL SELLEM/THE JERUSALEM POST)
Balkin’s family of origin was always committed to Israel and Zionism. “I was encouraged to be a Zionist, probably almost from birth. My grandmother was a member of the Women’s Zionist League in South Africa, she was in WIZO (Women’s International Zionist Organization) and came to Palestine in 1935 as a WIZO delegate. She came by boat! It took about six weeks just to get to Palestine at that time, and back. So I was brought up with a very Zionistic influence.”
Balkin was active in Bnei Akiva while growing up in Johannesburg. “I became religious as a result. The first Shabbat I ever kept was in Bnei Akiva. I realized that Shabbat can be kept in a modern world.” He adds, “Bnei Akiva had a tremendous influence upon me and upon my outlook, and I’d already decided during my studies that I wanted to make my life in Israel.” His wife was affiliated with Habonim growing up.
Prior to coming to Israel and Kibbutz Rosh Tzurim in January 1977, the Balkins and others had set up a garin (small group) of professionals. “We called it ‘Garin Snoopy.’ We were naïve and innocent. They were a traditional kibbutz where you worked in the lul [chicken coop] or nagaria [carpentry shop]. They had no concept of what a professional is. After a year, we realized that, unfortunately, it was not for us.” Things might have worked out differently had they made aliyah years later. “Ten or 15 years later, kibbutzim woke up and realized they couldn’t survive without professionals.”
After a year on Kibbutz Rosh Tzurim, where their first child was born, the Balkins moved in 1978 to Alon Shvut and Balkin started his medical internship. “I was fortunate to do cardiology. My mentor was the late Prof. Monty Zion, also from South Africa.” Dr. Zion, who died in 2016 at age 91, was chief of cardiology at Shaare Zedek and a clinical professor at the Hebrew University. “He was an old-style cardiologist with a tremendous understanding of the physical examination as well as being open to new ideas which were happening at the time, especially in cardiology.”
Balkin admired Zion’s commitment to traditional medical practices as well as his openness to new ideas. “When we started the department of cardiology in 1978 or ’79, there were lots of new things happening, and he was open to that, while at the same time, to continue teaching in a traditional fashion with an emphasis on hands-on, history and examination and understanding the patient.”
Balkin has followed in his mentor’s footsteps and is now respected by others for his distinguished cardiology career. He served as director of Shaare Zedek’s Intensive Coronary Care Unit, which is responsible for accurate diagnosis and initial acute care of cardiac patients, and for actively working to prevent coronary damage in his patients.
Balkin has seen the hospital grow from being housed in its original 1904 building (“the physical conditions were awful until 1980”) to its current building. “It has been an unbelievable change, offering fantastic impetus for development.”
He raves about his nurse colleagues and about working in a religious hospital. “The nurses really have dedication and love for caring for people.” He adds, “Coming to work in a religious hospital was a real change. The atmosphere at Shaare Zedek was totally different from anything I experienced before. The modesty and behavior were very different from what I experienced in South Africa. This was an amazing thing.”
Balkin is similarly pleased with the caliber of doctors he works with – and with their extraordinary training. “It is amazing to see what has happened in Israel over the last 45 years – in medicine in general and in cardiology in particular. In the ’70s and ’80s, they were sending their best guys to the best places in the US for fellowships. Almost all heads of all departments are Israeli-born and spent time at the best institutions in the US. Israel is now at a world-class standard in almost all fields. It has been a wonderful experience to have been part of that. I’ve had a fantastic career here in Israel.”
BALKIN ACKNOWLEDGES that his family’s early years in Israel were “quite tough.” They had no close family in Israel to help with child care or with other situations requiring support – no easy task with his busy medical schedule and Terri working as a physiotherapist. He reports, “The Alon Shvut community is amazing,” and credits them with helping out in many crucial ways. “When my wife was on bed rest many years ago for two or three months, I came home from work and found food on the table, laundry done and the place cleaned – by people I had never met. That’s when I realized this community is wonderful and it is a real privilege to be part of it.”
The Balkins are proud parents of four adult children who all live in Israel and are “all frum [observant], in very different ways.” One daughter, a biologist, lives nearby in Alon Shvut. One son is a teacher, one son is an actor and another is a teacher turned medical student. Balkin recounts the story of his soon-to-be-a-doctor-son with obvious pride, given this will make four generations of Balkins in medicine. “His wife said he should be a doctor, and he is almost done with his studies.”
While the Balkins always spoke with their children in English – and are trying hard to make sure their grandchildren understand and speak English – they are proud of how hard they worked to master Hebrew. “I was determined to speak Hebrew. I broke my teeth and am still breaking my teeth 40 years later. People at work laugh but I was determined to write notes in Hebrew, speak to patients in Hebrew and make presentations in Hebrew. I still make mistakes but people appreciate the effort. You can’t really be part of life without Hebrew. It is part of being in Israel. I think it is a good thing for us.”
The Balkins truly love living in Israel and experiencing all that Israel has to offer. “Israel is a land of olim. And the people I’ve had the privileged to meet – Holocaust survivors, people from North African countries, the Soviet Union, people who have come with nothing and built a life for themselves – make this place such a great country. People just accept you.”
Balkin acknowledges that many immigrants had difficulties mastering Hebrew and this prevented them from working in their fields – despite excellent educations in their home countries. “Then you see the second and third generation and how they have changed. It is just wonderful.”
Jonathan BalkinFrom Johannesburg, South Africa to Kibbutz Rosh Tzurim, 1977, to Alon Shvut, 1978
