Like an Englishman in New York

The title of today's post is not a reference to Sting's 1987 hit by the same name, but rather a sudden surge of empathy I'm feeling for the strange, isolated existence Brits (and other transplants) must lead in the Big Apple, far from the sports they know and love.

When we were still living in the U.S., I never gave much thought to those 'other sports' - you know, soccer, rugby and cricket - that I occasionally clicked past on the upper cable channels in the middle of the night.  It stood to reason that someone must be watching these unfathomable games since the cable companies aren't in the business of broadcasting content unless there is an audience.  But I never really stopped to consider who, exactly, that audience might be.

Also, while there always seemed to be a bunch of West Indians and the odd Aussie or South African playing cricket, soccer or rugby in New York and Connecticut's less visited parks... I still never stopped to think about the fact that there had to be quite a few fans of these sports who, by necessity, were setting their alarm clocks to ring in the wee hours of the morning so they could watch hotly contested matches in the UK, Australia and even such far flung places as India, Pakistan and Bangladesh.

This sudden burst of empathy comes in no small part thanks to being an American Baseball fan living in Israel in October... far from where my Boston Red Sox are playing out an exciting post season. 

I am bleary-eyed with self-imposed 'jet lag' after several nights of going to bed after dinner and getting up at 2:30AM to watch my team battle back to win the American League Championship Series. 

It was a great night ov viewing... but it wasn't perfect.

You see, in between innings, and during pitcher changes, Fox Sports broadcast Cricket, Rugby and Soccer trivia!  It was absolutely maddening.  I mean, what possible interest would a baseball fan have in knowing Manchester City's unofficial theme song (Blue Moon... bellowed as if it were a heroic anthem, in case you were wondering), or what team was formed in 1886 by workers of the Woolwich Armament Factory (answer: 'Arsenal'). 

Instead of singing along with 'Take me out to the ballgame' during the seventh inning stretch, I was treated to an excruciating segment designed to test the viewer's knowledge of obscure Cricket rules (for your information, a googly that glances off the batsman's shoulder rather than his bat or hands, and which is subsequently caught... oh never mind!)

So, now that I think about it, a foreign fan in New York watching a test match late is probably subjected to an equally horrifying deluge of baseball or worse, Nascar trivia.

In our old life we would have had plenty of friends over to share the big games, and plenty of friendly rivals to call up and razz after a particularly satisfying win.  But here in Israel, the games are enjoyed in relative solitude... on the upper cable channels at strange hours of the morning.  And celebrations are more modest affairs, usually taking place quietly over breakfast.

There are a couple of other Red Sox fans in my neighborhood (transplants like myself), and we've spent the summer nodding approvingly at one another in shul or shrugging in shared resignation as our team's fortunes have ebbed and flowed.  But these gestures have passed between us, unnoticed by our Israeli friends whose interest in foreign sports is probably limited to European soccer or basketball.

This morning at 5:30AM, as the big kids and I high fived quietly so as not to wake Yonah or disturb the neighbors, and I struggled to purge my mind of all the soccer, rugby and cricket trivia I'd been exposed to, I suddenly realized that this must be what it's like to be an Englishman in New York.