13.08.2006 - Stan Fischler

REHOVOT, ISRAEL -- As sportswriters go, Lionel Gaffen is a rare one.
He covers ice hockey and figure skating in Israel, of all places. for the Jerusalem Post, daily newspaper. On the side, he's night manager of a hotel in the far north of the Holy Land.
Gaffen did all these jobs very well until a terrorist group called Hezbollah -the U.S. Marines can tell you about them -- decided it would be a good idea to rain thousands of rockets over the Jewish state.
In parts of the Arab world, this is considered a good sporting event because it kills as many Jews as possible.
This state of affairs - also known as war - was not healthy for Lionel's jobs.
As a sportswriter, he was looking forward to covering the Summer hockey program in the northern town of Metulla. Every July, former Montreal Canadiens Stanley Cup-winning coach Jean Perron teaches hockey to Israelis and coaches the country's national teams.
Metulla's Olympic-sized rink sits a puck's shot from the Lebanese border which happens also to be one of Hizbollah's favorite targets.
"We haven't been able to have hockey this Summer," said Gaffen. "The Canada Centre, which is where they work out, has been closed. Our area has been the hardest hit by rockets in the country."
If you can't imagine what it's been like for Lionel and his community, picture  ingston's Dietz Stadium under constant rocket threat throughout the summer of 2006.
"It has not been fun," said Gaffen in the understatement of the half- century. "Our area - less than a mile from the border - had taken 750 rocket attacks since July 12. For a month I've heard nothing but the continuous 'boom' of Israeli artillery, returning the fire. I even hear the 'booms' in my sleep."
Gaffen, who also covers Israeli speed skating and skiing, is a 64-year-old Montrealer who moved to Israel in 1977. He has five children and nine grand-children; plus a sense of humor.
"Make sure you mention that we also have an Israeli bobsledding team," he insisted. "It's called 'The Frozen Chosen.'" Instead of hosting athletes and assorted tourists at his hotel, Gaffen's lodge has become a jumping-off point for Israeli Defense Forces reservists heading for the front.
After a month of praying that the sky would not deliver a Katusha on his doorstep, Lionel finally drove south last week for a few days of rest and rehab. It was then that he phoned me, suggesting we meet in nearby Tel Aviv.
"We've got a lot to talk about," I said, thinking that we could squeeze in some good hockey schmoozing around the war dialogue.
But the next morning's news was horrible. A Hezbollah rocket landed in the vicinity of Gaffen's hotel. Candy was being passed around the Arab world because twelve more Jews had been killed.
I told Lionel that this didn't seem the right time for us to meet. "I agree," he said while preparing to leave for his battered Northern home the next morning.
Many of you may be wondering why he has chosen to remain living there and why he continues to put himself in constant peril.
For one thing, he moved to the north for the same reasons many of us have staked our turf in the Catskills. He loves the mountains, the greenery and the pastoral hills rife with beauty.
Unlike our Catskill folk, his neighbors have been arming themselves for years, waiting for the moment - the illegal invasion of Israel and kidnapping of IDF soldiers -- to resume their war against the Jewish state.
"People ask me, 'why don't you leave?' My answer is simple; I've got a responsibility to stay here. I've got to do these things."
Gaffen reminded me that his personal relationship with Katushas dates back to a Hezbollah attack in the 1980s. His home had suffered a direct hit from a rocket.
"It put a hole in the wall," he recalled with a laugh. "But they did me a favor that time because it made it easier for me to move my piano into the house."
Then, a pause: "It's a tough battle we're in but, hey, life goes on!"
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