Your heart just has to go out to Nili Avramski. We watched with admiration the 38-year-old Holon runner battle gamely against a strong wind to finish 15th in the prestigious Hamburg Marathon in a time of 2:37.49. Unfortunately, that's 49 agonizing seconds outside the criterion set in stone by Israel's Olympic committee as a qualification mark for Beijing. So, unless the officials prove they don't themselves have hearts of stone, Nili will have to watch the Olympic marathon at home on TV.
True, she was a minute outside her own record, but Nili has a good chance of bettering her 42nd-place finish in Athens, and over the years she has given quite enough of herself to Israeli sport to justify the extra ticket. She should be included in the squad for Beijing. But then, Tel Aviv, like New York, usually loves only winners. Unlike the English who, wisely, are able to pay tribute to a loser. Even revere him.
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Remember Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards, the portly ski jumper who was hardly able to lift himself off the jump ramp and was so woeful at the 1988 Winter Olympics that the rules were changed to stop other would-be sporting anti-celebs from dragging down the standards of the Games? Then there was crane operator Maurice Flitcroft who bought a half-set of golf clubs by mail order, read a basic how-to book, and somehow wangled his way into the British Open. In the qualifying round, he shot a 121, 49-over par, the worst-ever score in the 148 years of the Open - though his score was only estimated because the marker of his card lost count on a few holes.
Now we learn of the latest British sporting hero, Robert Dee. He's just 21 but is already being dubbed "the worst tennis pro ever." He made his debut at a Mexico City challenger tournament three years ago, has played 54 tournaments since and has lost every single first-round match. Not just every match - every set, a cool 108 sets in a row. Now Robert's gone along and upset everyone by recording a victory - in Spain over a 19-year-old Nevada college student, Arzhang Derekshani. The Independent rued his ending "an almost artistically perfect losing streak."
In the second round, the irrepressible Dee again provided what's become expected of him; he returned to losing ways with a 3-6, 1-6 defeat. Still, he insists, his fortunes are changing. He told the London Evening Standard: "This is only a small step on a long journey. I have my first win. I just need to push on and get a second one. I am very determined. I never thought of giving up. I've always known I had it in me." His father Allan said proudly of his son's commitment: "He practices five hours a day. He doesn't drink. He is a perfect model for any young tennis player."
Ways of remembering
How many miles away in attitude is the multi-billion world of soccer? Is it only because he's now perceived as a potential winner that Avram Grant seems en route to producing a remarkable change-of-mind (though patently not change-of-heart) among the all-too-many English journalists who have been hounding him so horribly for his looks, his character, his leadership, his talkativeness, his friendliness - anything actually, rather than his quite good record in his first season at Stamford Bridge. Isn't it interesting how sporting dilemmas so often get elevated to a higher plane?
In Ma'ariv on Wednesday, on the eve of Chelsea's return Champions League semifinal clash with Liverpool, Efraim Zuroff, director of the Simon Wiesenthal Center in Israel, appealed to soccer fans not to violate the collective holy tribute which the country pays to the memory of the six million on Holocaust Martyrs and Heroes Remembrance Day by not watching the game on television.
It's a hard one, this - but I rather admired the way Tzofit Grant, wife of Avram, countered by arguing that the fact that the son of a Holocaust survivor would be leading a team that was aiming to reach the pinnacle of European soccer, and that the only way Israelis could get to watch the game was courtesy of a German satellite channel, was a rather nice way of proving that, "not only have we survived, somehow we've also won" - no matter what the result on the pitch.
"I'm not saying," Tzofit went on, "chevra, settle down round the TV with garinim (seeds) and yell as you usually do. But I honestly don't think its wrong to watch the game." There are indeed ways of remembering and ways of remembering.
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