When the wonderful Inbar Lanir made the hosts of the hostile World Judo Championships in Qatar listen to "Hatikvah," she stood not only on the podium - but also on the shoulders of giants.
The pioneers who founded the Israeli Judo Association from scratch, and turned it under unconditional conditions into an elite unit responsible for more than half of Israel's Olympic medals, are giants of spirit.
And since the discussion about the composition of human matter that should be found in the elite units and power centers of Israeli society is at the heart of the controversy today, it is worthwhile to dwell for a moment on the character of these giants, and perhaps first of all on the figure of Morris Smadja:
Morris immigrated to Israel from Tunisia at the age of 29, in 1961, to the "Meshek Ezer" transit camp in Be'er Sheva, and although he was already a judoka with titles from various competitions in North Africa, he worked for a living as an electrician.
The club he founded in his spare time at a school in Be'er Sheva, with mattresses made from scraps of fabrics, was to produce a series of Israeli champions in the coming years and make Morris the coach of the Israeli national team, which he led to international achievements for the first time.
During these years, the 70s and 80s, the foundation was laid for the leading status of small Israel as a world judo power, but Morris's true greatness lies in creating the organization's tradition and DNA:
Today's accomplished Judo Association is largely led by its trainees. Perhaps that's why, when you look at the map of the country and see where the elite people who bring us respect in the world come from, the heart expands: Arik Zeevi from Bnei Brak, Sagi Muki from Netanya, Uri Sasson from Jerusalem and, of course, Oren Smadja, Morris' son and successor (the only one to have won an Olympic medal both as an athlete and as a coach), who was born in Ofakim. To find out where Yael Arad grew up, I don't need Wikipedia.
I remember very well the girl who trained with us at Maccabi Tel Aviv, even though we were only under a yellow belt and she was already in green, because she didn't want to miss any training session by the coach we all admired, Moni Isaac. Moony explained to us that Yael trains throughout the week, with all the teams and at all levels, thus hinting to us what is required of someone who really wants to excel in the sport.
I made do with a modest contribution to Israeli elite sports: at the end of the 70's I was one of the training dolls that Yael made a makeover for without any special effort.
But from my short career as a judoka, I know that judo – just like the air force or special units in the army – is a unique nature reserve in the Israeli landscape. In our short-tempered and hot-headed country, the Israel Judo Association educates children all over the country to restraint, self-control, discipline, respect for opponents, tradition and uncompromising striving for excellence.
Even if not everyone becomes champions, the organization whose foundation was laid by pioneers like Maurice Smadja is first and foremost a tremendous educational enterprise.
Morris Smadja and the other pioneers of judo created an organization that identifies and polishes diamonds from an early age all over the country - even in the periphery, just like in the center. If we succeed in copying this ability to all the centers of power in Israeli society, we may become world champions.
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