Dov Levi - Alan Veingrad

COVER STORY
lesson consisted of an interminable hour
of tedious sermonizing on the subject of
Jewish history. It seemed to me like the
most boring subject on the planet.
My parents dutifully escorted me to
Hebrew school every Sunday and Tuesday
and deposited me on the doorstep. With
my hand on the doorknob I would turn
and wave sweetly to them. As soon as
they disappeared from sight, I made my
own disappearance. I would cross over to
the other side of the road and spend the
time throwing pebbles into the lake and
marveling at the ripples they made.
On Rosh Hashanah, we attended the
Conservative synagogue -- on the first
day, that is. Until quite recently, I had
no idea that Rosh Hashanah is actually
two days. We sat there for several dreary
hours. I had no idea what was going on.
The program was very uninspiring and
did not interest me in the least. Ditto
for Yom Kippur. We went to synagogue
because that’s what everyone did. We
usually broke our fast at around four or
five o’clock in the afternoon.
On Pesach, we’d get together as a
family. Somebody would read out of the
Haggadah. We would laugh, goof around
and have a piece of matzah. We hated
every minute of it because the food wasn’t
very good. There was one family member,
a distant uncle, who was observant.
My mom would light candles
occasionally on Friday nights. There were
eight presents for Chanukah, and she
would make latkes and tell us, “You have
to marry a Jewish girl.” And she would
repeat it again and again, “You’ve got to
marry Jewish.”
But, aside from that, my parents rarely,
if ever, spoke to us about our Judaism. It
was a beaten-down religion because of
the Holocaust and other factors.
Judaism was never presented to me
as something worthy and pleasant – as
something to enjoy and take pride in.
But my parents did make sure I
attended football practice, encouraging
me to grow up into something they could
take pride in, and that “something” had
nothing to do with religion and everything
to do with sports.
Unfortunately, like the typical
American Jewish family, my bar mitzvah
was more of an exit from Judaism than
the acceptance of Jewish religious
responsibility. My next visit to a synagogue
would most likely be on the occasion of
Despite all the leisure activities he had time to
pursue on a daily basis, a lingering emptiness
began gnawing at him.
someone else’s bar mitzvah. It was not at
all unusual for me to hear someone say,
“You know, this is the first time in 18 years
that I’ve been to synagogue. I haven’t been
here since my bar mitzvah.”
Simply put, the Jewish education I
received growing up was unfortunately
minuscule.
The Little Football Player
After his bar mitzvah, Alan’s parents
stopped bothering him about religion and
Alan found himself with plenty of free time;
too much of it, in fact – and he was getting
himself into some trouble.
When Alan turned 14, his parents began
encouraging him to take more of an interest
in sports in the hope that it would keep him
out of trouble. That is when Alan decided that
he was going to become a football player. He
was six-foot-five, but at a slight 180 pounds.
His frame was far from the heavyweight
physique expected of one who excels at
such a sport. So, with the help of a relentless
coach and a heavy dose of determination, he
worked out until he had developed enough
muscle for an average high school football
player.
However, the world of professional
football was not going to accept him with
open arms. At his high school graduation,
he still weighed no more than 195 pounds
-- still too slight of a frame for a college
football player. Offensive linemen these days
are typically 280 pounds or more, many
weighing in at well over 300!
Enter Alan’s mom. There are few things
that can stand in the way of a determined
Jewish mother. Mrs. Veingrad took Alan’s
high school football resume and sent it
to colleges all across the United States.
Ultimately, the East Texas State University
was the only one willing to accept him.
“They flew me to East Texas State,”
remembers Shlomo, “and they gave me a
scholarship based on my ability to throw the
discus a long way.”
That was in 1981. From then on, it
was strenuous work and little play for the
budding football star. His coach chose him
for the position of offensive lineman, and
as such he was required to lift weights and
work diligently on building and maintaining
his physique. At the end of his sophomore
year, Alan weighed 250 pounds and began
developing into a pretty good football
player. Still, not in his wildest dreams did he
imagine he would ever find himself playing
ball professionally.
When his coach suggested that Alan
set his goal on professional football, Alan
thought he was being facetious. “What, me
Professional football Never in a million
years!”
Once, back in high school, a friend had
procured an orange staff shirt for Alan,
which enabled him to go out to the football
field and greet the Miami Dolphins up close.
With a wry smile he recalls the euphoria he
felt to have the “privilege” of being in such
close proximity to his heroes and getting
their autographs. He had seen their massive,
well-built bodies from up close, and he knew
that becoming a professional football player
was out of his reach.
“You have what it takes,” the coach
encouraged him. “The pros are going to
seek you out. You ought to start preparing
yourself for the National Football League.”
Alan took those words to heart and
his practice sessions took on an increased
intensity as this new goal – getting into the
NFL -- became his obsession.
He was a decent college football player,
but from that to a membership in the NFL
was a big leap. Team after team rejected
him, and at a certain point he was ready to
give up.
However, in 1986, the Green Bay
Packers hired him on a minimum contract.
Alan began his career at the very bottom,
and his position in the NFL team was
far from secured. Months of intensive
training followed. He was one of 10 players
Alan Veingrad when he played for the Green Bay Packers.
140 | ZMAN • July 2011
ZMAN • Tamuz 5771 | 141