This story was translated from the Hebrew weekly Kfar Chabad.
The first time I met the Rebbe, we discussed baseball. It was a month before my bar mitzvah, and my grandfather, a devout Jew and second-generation American, wanted me to meet the Rebbe and receive his blessing in preparation for my attainment of Jewish adulthood. My parents had all but abandoned the religious practice of their faith, so it was Grandfather who assumed the primary role in my Jewish education, giving me lessons in the rudiments of Judaism several times a week and taking me to the synagogue on Shabbat.
My first surprise was the Rebbe’s youthful appearance. I had expected a Chassidic sage with a long white beard, but the Rebbe, who was in his early fifties at the time, had the appearance and manner of a man 15 years younger. My second surprise was when, after the Rebbe spoke to my grandfather for a few minutes, he turned to me and asked me: “Which is your favorite sport?”
“Baseball,” I replied.
“How do you most enjoy the game,” asked the Rebbe, “when one team plays, or when two teams play against each other?”
“Rabbi,” I said, “you can’t play baseball with only one team.”
“Why not?” asked the Rebbe.
“Rabbi,” I patiently explained, “the entire point of the game is which side is going to score more runs than the other. You must have two teams.” I was relieved to see that the Rebbe understood.
“So who usually wins?” the Rebbe pressed on.
“Whoever plays best,” I said, proud of my inspired reply.
I don’t know what Grandfather thought of our conversation, but the Rebbe continued to direct all his attention to me. “Tell me,” he now asked me, “do you and your friends play much baseball?”
“Sure. We play a lot.”
“Do you also go to watch the baseball games at the stadium?”
“Sure.”
“But why do you have to go watch others play, if you know how to play the game yourselves?”
Again I felt the frustration of needing to explain the obvious. “Rabbi,” I said, politely suppressing my smile, “when we play, it’s just a bunch of kids playing. With the Major League teams, it’s the real thing.”
“Joseph,” said the Rebbe, a warm smile illuminating his face, “your heart is a baseball field. There are two teams competing there: the ‘good inclination,’ the yetzer tov, and the ‘evil inclination,’ the yetzer hara. But up until now, it was a kids’ game. Now, with your bar mitzvah, the real game begins. G-d is giving you a special gift—a major league yetzer tov, with the skills and talents to beat the yetzer hara and guide you through a righteous and constructive life. Remember, Joseph, just like in baseball, whoever plays best, wins...”
