actually spent my entire childhood very close to Marmorek’s ground. My mother’s house was on "Haimahot" Street, and my grandmother’s was on "Jabotinsky". Both were just a few strides away from the red ground. As I grew up, I even played for Marmorek’s youth team under the guidance of Ehud Idan. I remember Saturdays when the walls of the house would vibrate from the noise coming from the pitch. With every attack, and certainly after a goal, my grandparents would nearly jump out of their skin at the deafening roars. And it was beautiful...
Years later, my support for Sha’arayim began. I can’t quite recall exactly when it started, or how I ended up "crossing the divide", but something about Sha’arayim—its rich history, perhaps the influence of my uncle (who was a die-hard fan as a kid), or maybe the Maccabist ethos, which I preferred over Hapoel's—swayed me and made me fall in love with something new. Close mates joined in, and during my military service, my passion was at its absolute peak. The thrilling fixtures against Hapoel Ramat Gan (our bitter rivals), both at home and at the legendary, now-demolished Makhtesh stadium, were an unforgettable experience. We travelled on away days to Tayibe (and barely made it out alive after Kobi Hassan’s 90th-minute winner), we drove down to Dimona and came back with rocks bouncing off our roof. We even made it to an away fixture in Iksal, with my good mate Yariv going AWOL from a peaceful guard post somewhere on an IDF base just to be there. That's how we gathered memories to last a lifetime.
During the years I became a young dad—and later a not-so-young dad—I made it to the terraces less often. I left the city and settled down in Pardes Hanna. The distance grew, but I always kept tabs from afar. The seasons Sha’arayim spent in Liga Bet felt like an eternity, and at times it seemed the former empire would never rise again. In recent years, as the club made its way back to Liga Alef, I returned to the matches too. More than anything, I owe this to my mate Yariv, who had once again caught the "blue bug". Every meet-up at the ground on a Friday or Tuesday became a proper social event—just like the old days when we were schoolmates at ORT Rehovot. We watched with our own eyes as Sha’arayim secured promotion to the National League after a dream season, only to suffer the massive heartbreak of being relegated straight back down...
The moment the two of us stood there, holding our young sons at the end of our final home fixture in the National League against Hapoel Jerusalem, was the exact moment I realised I was supporting the right club. Just minutes after the news came in from Nazareth Illit—the result that officially relegated us—we stood there, applauding and giving thanks for an unforgettable experience. The tears of the players, but above all, the hundreds of people standing right there beside us... that is you, the Sha’arayim faithful. You are the real deal, our greatest asset.
Sha’arayim’s new path is a massive source of pride for me. Over the past few months, having decided to lend a hand to this project, I’ve met people who are entirely dedicated to giving back and helping out. There’s a real feeling in the air that something new is being built in Israeli football—something healthy, transparent, and built on a broad foundation of shared love for the club. I hope we all find our way back to our natural place in the second tier (perhaps without taking any shortcuts this time). But even if we don't, we will always be there, backing the lads and singing in the stands...