The year 2000. I am an ultra-Orthodox yeshiva student, studying Gemara during the day, but dreaming of Betar at night. The environment does not know about my love of football, and the great satisfaction it gives me in life.
I grew up as an ultra-Orthodox child in Jerusalem. At the age of 10 I underwent a prolonged sexual assault that left me with a large scar on my heart. The only cure for the scar was the regular visit to Teddy Stadium. The warm atmosphere and the fans who welcomed me without judging, gave me the ability to see the world in a much brighter perspective, and brought me peace of mind. Of course not everyone liked my love of football. From the age of 11 to 17, I went through 7 ultra-Orthodox educational frameworks. Most of them I flew because of my sympathy for Betar. The good grades or the large investment in studies did not help, my rabbis refused to accept the fact that I was a football fan in general and Betar in particular, and decided to expel me from the educational institutions.
To this day I remember the intense feeling of jealousy of the little children around me in the stands. I could not believe that there are children who come to the football games with the approval of their parents, and these even pay them for the tickets. Every time I saw children enjoying the game I promised myself that I would not spare this pleasure from my children, whatever the price.
The years passed, I grew up, I got married, but my love for Betar remained as it was. About 6 years ago, when my eldest son was 6, and his younger brother was 4, I came to the conclusion that it was time to fulfill a dream. Put on a winter Saturday, I dressed the kids in yellow, loaded them on the car and we drove to Teddy Stadium for a Betar game.
Since then a lot of water has passed in the Hassi River, and I discovered that what seemed to me a childhood dream – much more fun in reality. We plowed the stadiums all over the country, and my children discovered the hard way, that for a football team fan it can be the most depressing and exciting thing at the same time. In the meantime, they were joined by two other brothers who at the age of 4 and a half and a half plowed the land and reached almost every stadium.
In recent days I read Moshe correspondence celebrating with Betar fans. They slap him for the damage he is doing to the club, and he, like a child pulling a braid to hurt, responds to them with what I interpret as provocation that they chose to fight for the love of their lives.
Moshiko, what you do not understand is that you are not just hurting them. You hurt that hurting ultra-Orthodox boy who finds solace in the team, an elderly man who has been waiting all week for Beitar’s game and is now plucking his last two hairs out of concern for the team. You also hurt a woman who all her life has dreamed of taking her children to the stadium and will now have to give up. You hit them! Maybe you actually understand, and it does not interest you?
When my eldest son asked me why on the Betar shirt is it written “and love your neighbor as yourself”? hollow.
Release the Moshiko braid. You do not understand what sympathy is for a football team, and you probably will never understand. We are fighting for this group for the sake of the future generation. For our children. We knew how to confront the identity of the group with our neighbors in the stands, so of course we will know how to confront you as well. Release the braid Moshe, we do not like to hurt our children.
Yaakov Sela is a Betar Jerusalem fan