Tamir's Inspiring Story Washington Jewish News

 Tamir's inspiring story
by Chanan Weissman
Special to WJW

Call him what you want ‹ Howdy Doody, the Jewish Jordan, Joe Lieberman in sneakers. These days, the former high school phenom is known simply by one name ‹ Tamir.

Having recently signed with the Maryland Nighthawks, a semi-pro team in the newly established Premier Basketball League, the ubiquitous Tamir Goodman is back playing ball in his home state and, perhaps more important (or successfully), delivering speeches of inspiration to wide-eyed Jewish kids.

"I've been blessed as the first professional basketball player in America that doesn't play on Shabbat," Tamir explained to a hall of fourth- and fifth-grade students at Washington Hebrew Congregation religious school in the second of two half-hour presentations on Sunday, Jan. 13. "And if you're proud of your Judaism, then everyone will respect you for what you want to do, too."

His is a story not untold; you've heard it before.

It's one of faith, talent and the desire to break down barriers. It's one that caught the Jewish world, and America, by storm in the late 1990s as the skinny Orthodox prodigy from Pikesville verbally committed to playing in the promised land of Division 1 basketball at the University of Maryland. Gracing the pages of Sports Illustrated and the news segments of ESPN and 60 Minutes, Tamir and his story became synonymous with Horatio Alger stories, apple pie and the American Dream. For many, he was the Great Jewish Hope.

Now 25, he already uses his life story to engage the next generation of Jewish hopefuls.

"Hashem has given me the basketball skills as a tool to motivate kids, as a way to instill a sense of Jewish pride," Tamir says in an interview prior to his presentation. "I'm constantly on a mission, never taking one second for granted."

It's a mantra that has proven self-sustaining, one that bespeaks a tortuous basketball career cast under the bright lights of media scrutiny and athletic doubt.

After a two-year stint at Towson University, Tamir traveled to Israel armed with a three-year contract to play for European powerhouse Maccabi Tel Aviv. Riddled by constant injury and nagging scrutiny, Tamir was relegated to a lower-level team, Givat Shmuel, before being traded down to Maccabi Shoham in Israel's second-division.

But his is a story that refuses to quit. To adult and child alike, Tamir exists as something more than a messianic athletic talent.

"He's taught us that being Jewish doesn't make you a nerd," said Dan Caplan, Washington Hebrew Congregation's seventh grade coordinator. "To be Jewish, you don't have to be a rabbi or a Hebrew educator. You can be an astronaut, a surgeon or even an athlete."

Perhaps, then, his is more than a simple story. Rather, it is a pithy message of Judaic self-confidence that transcends the former star's struggling basketball odyssey.

"Everyone has blessings from Hashem," Tamir tells the students as he wraps up the brief question-and-answer session. "Use them in the right way, and Hashem will give you the tools and talents you need along the way."

As the kids begin to form single-file lines leading out of the sanctuary's massive doorways, a few scamper off in search of Tamir's autograph.

Not all of them had heard of the fabled Tamir before that Sunday morning's assembly. And even for those who had, not everyone believed in the oft-stated comparison to Michael Jordan. But for one 10-year-old, Marcus Lustig, that wasn't the point.

"It was pretty cool how he put his Jewishness before basketball," said the fifth-grader. "He's just so devoted to his Judaism."