Catching up with the Jewish basketball star
Whatever you do, don’t call Tamir Goodman “the Jewish Michael Jordan.”
He’s not fond of the nickname bestowed upon him by a Sports Illustrated basketball writer, and besides, it’s not even a very apt comparison. Magic Johnson would be more appropriate.
Jordan was known for being aloof and unapproachable. Goodman, like Magic, is friendly, outgoing and eager to please. Six-foot-four with red hair and blue eyes that burn with fervor, Goodman can still throw down monstrous dunks that make youngsters’ mouths gape in wonder.
Goodman was in Cleveland at the JCC recently to lead clinics for campers from Anisfield Day Camp and Camp Wise and other kids from the community. It was the first visit to Cleveland for the basketball phenom since he married Beachwood native Judy Horwitz in Israel two years ago.
“I’m living the dream,” says Goodman. “I’m 23 years old, living in Israel, and playing professional basketball.”
Three years ago, the kipah- and tzitzit-wearing Goodman could have been forgiven for thinking the last part of that statement might never come true.
Goodman was a hotly recruited hoopster while attending the Talmudical Academy of Baltimore. A media darling, he was all set to play college ball for the University of Maryland Terrapins when the school suddenly rescinded its scholarship offer, saying it couldn’t accommodate Goodman’s Sabbath-observant requirements.
In swooped Towson Unversity, a smaller Division I program near Goodman’s home in suburban Baltimore. Goodman played one full season and part of a second at Towson, where he developed a reputation as a pass-first point guard who could also score the ball when necessary.
In the midst of his sophomore season, however, Goodman had a series of run-ins with Towson’s new head coach Michael Hunt. As a result, Goodman quit the team just as his potential was beginning to peak.
But Goodman was unfazed. “I never thought my career would be over,” he says. “Challenges just help you meet your potential.” Instead, he saw the separation as an opportunity to move to Israel and play in the Israeli Premier League, one of the most prestigious pro leagues in the world.
It was while playing for Premier League team Givat Shmuel that Goodman met his future wife Judy, a Beachwood High School graduate and former CJN intern. Horwitz was studying at Bar-Ilan University, and Goodman was practicing in the school’s gymnasium. “When I first saw (Judy), I knew she was the one,” says Goodman. The couple now has a 1-year-old daughter Oriyah, whose name means “G-d is my light.”
Life in Israel was challenging for the young family. Goodman hopscotched to various basketball teams in the Israel league and ruptured a tendon in his knee last year. And as in America, he had to find a way to avoid the games that were played on Friday nights and Saturdays.
While awaiting surgery on his knee, Goodman completed his army service with an Armored Personnel Carrier unit. Now he’s conditioning with the Israeli Olympic high jump coach and preparing for his return to the pros. He hasn’t signed a contract yet, but Hapoel Jerusalem and Givat Shmuel have expressed interest, he says.
“(Hashem) has given me great talent,” says the ever-optimistic hoopster. “Everyone has a mission. There will be ups and downs.”
Studying Torah helps during the down periods, he says. Goodman comes from a Chabad background and reads often from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. “It gives me motivation and inspiration.”
In his clinics, Goodman not only impresses his students with flashy passes and dunks, but also “lets them know it’s cool to be Jewish,” he says. Basketball is already cool thanks to the NBA, and Goodman figures associating with some of that residual marketing power could help the Jewish cause.
A clinic he gave in the Gaza Strip was the most powerful, he says. Rockets were falling almost constantly on the area, but the kids were mesmerized. “I tried to bring a smile to their face,” says Goodman.
His next stops after Cleveland are clinics in Appleton, Wisc., New York City and his hometown of Baltimore. In Cleveland, he is staying with his in-laws, Leah and Harvey Horwitz of Beachwood.
As he leaves the JCC, Goodman marvels at the display of Judaica and Israeli-made items at the gift shop. “Who would have thought you would see this here, in America, after the Holocaust?” he muses. “It’s just amazing.” He may not be the Jewish Jordan, but the prideful Goodman is determined to live up to the first part of that nickname, if not the second.
