College football games are typically held on Friday nights or Saturdays—not the ideal time for a player who strictly observes the Sabbath. That’s why Sam Salz misses most of his team’s games at Texas A&M University. His only opportunity to participate is if the game is held at home on Saturday night. Then, he walks to the stadium, waits for sundown, dons his maroon team uniform—he plays with the number 39, symbolizing the 39 prohibited labors on the Sabbath—and usually joins the game midway through the third quarter, with a yarmulke under his helmet and tzitzit (fringes) hanging from his football uniform.
At that moment, there is no happier person in the world than Sam Salz, 21, who until two years ago barely knew the roles in a football team. Now, he is part of a team at a prestigious university, with a home stadium that seats 100,000 people, all of whom adore Salz unconditionally. How could they not? It’s a story straight out of an American movie.
The academic year at universities in the U.S. ended this month, with tumultuous protests and a fair amount of antisemitism overshadowing what is a life-shaping event for young Americans on some campuses. Sam Salz didn’t go through any of this. At Texas A&M, a university with more than 70,000 students, only about 500 of whom are Jewish, he feels completely safe and has not encountered any antisemitism, even when he walks around with a yarmulke and tzitzit. It doesn’t hurt that he’s somewhat of a star, even if he doesn’t play—at least not yet. But it doesn’t mean it won’t happen; he wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place.
Now, Salz is on summer break and takes his time waking up in the morning for an interview from his home in Philadelphia. This year, he was featured in articles in American media, and he knows he’s an attraction. For him, all this is just part of the bigger plan God has destined for him: to prove not only that Jews can excel in sports but that Jews who strictly observe their faith can excel as well.
For such a young man, Salz knows exactly who he is. “I definitely, grew up with people who did think that there were limitations because I was observant or I am observant. But ultimately, I want to prove them wrong, to show that you can be successful and observant,” he said in an interview with “Yedioth Ahronoth” and Ynet.
“Born in Philadelphia and I grew up in Philadelphia. You know, going to Jewish schools and going to school here. So that’s how I grew.”
And your love of Football?
“I didn’t grow up with it. That’s interesting. I didn’t go with it at all. I started to like it. There was an admiration I had for it, but we never really paid too much attention to it. It just wasn’t a big thing in the house, wasn’t a big thing in school. But we played in the yard as kids.”
So how did you find yourself deciding to play football in college?
“Yeah, it it. It’s funny, it kind of just came to me. I know it’s a strange thing to say, but one day I was watching TV and I thought that I had to play college football.”
Salz studied at the “Kohelet” Yeshiva High School, a tiny Orthodox preparatory school in Philadelphia—not exactly the place to prepare you for scoring touchdowns. After being accepted to Texas A&M University, he attended his first football game in his life and had no doubt that he would indeed play.
Did you know what position you wanted to play, or did you just fall in love with the game?
“I didn’t know what the positions were. But once I did some research, I looked them up.”
This is where Salz’s unbelievable story truly begins. Standing at 1.67 meters (5’6″) and weighing 73 kg (160 lbs), he’s about the size of one leg of football legend Aaron Donald. When he arrived in Texas, he decided to try out for the A&M team. Naturally, he wasn’t invited. Why would he be? No one in the sophisticated scouting network of college football knew him. Why should they? He had never played before.
Like George Costanza, Salz began showing up at A&M practices uninvited. For almost a year, he arrived every day an hour before practice and stayed an hour afterward. He didn’t practice with the team; he simply did everything the players did, only on the side, beyond the chains that separated the training area. He trained in old shoes. Trash cans were his opponents. And because he never encountered a challenge he considered impossible, one day he approached Jimbo Fisher, the head coach, and told him, he intended to play on their team.
What Nerve!
“I didn’t want Jews to see themselves as weak or athletic or whatever it is.”
How strange did it seem to people?
“If it seemed strange to them, they didn’t show it. Players encouraged me, gave me advice, and the coaches noticed me. Most of the time, I just trained with a friend.”
Salz never stopped practicing. “During breaks, on days off, he always stayed there to train,” Mark Robinson, the athletic director at Texas A&M, told “The Athletic.” “We could see him from the coaches’ rooms. It was impossible not to be impressed by such determination and dedication.”
The sentimental sports movie “Rudy” tells the story of Rudy Ruettiger, who dreams of playing football at Notre Dame University. He has no money for tuition and doesn’t meet the scholarship criteria, but he works hard, gets some help from good people along the way, and fulfills his dream. It’s a classic American sports movie, pulling at every emotional string, but for Sam Salz, this happened in real life.
He planned to try out for the 2022 season, but Texas A&M had so many players that it didn’t even hold tryouts. Salz continued to practice on the side. Then came six consecutive losses, and Coach Fisher decided to shake up the locker room. Salz was summoned to his office via text message and was told he was in. He was accepted despite lacking the physical attributes or, to be honest, any other justification to be part of the team. Salz started as a running back and later switched to a receiver. He had to learn the game from scratch.
Salz is visibly Jewish. He consistently wears a yarmulke, tzitzit, tallit—everything. Despite his boundless confidence—or faith—he still didn’t know if a high-budget college football program, where winning is everything, would have the patience for his limitations: many days when he can’t play or practice and the need for kosher meals. But it turned out they did. He is excused from games on holidays and Sabbaths, and they provide him with kosher meals. His first practice fell on Yom Kippur, and although he was itching to go, he stayed home.
“I had no choice; I had to tell them I couldn’t practice, and they immediately respected that,” says Salz. “It was interesting because it was Yom Kippur, so I had to tell them that I couldn’t practice the first time. And it was very interesting because I mean, I had. It was a really new world for me. I remember staring at the field very intently. My first practice, wow. I want to do something. I want to play. You know that desire comes when you see what’s going on in practice. So then I understood there were more goals ahead. Of what I just wanted to accomplish in terms of football.”
The locker room shake-up didn’t help Fisher, who was fired last November and replaced by Mike Elko. Just to understand the scale of college football, Elko’s salary is $7 million a year for six seasons, excluding bonuses. Salz remained on the team under Elko. His enthusiasm, passion, dedication, and willingness to work harder than anyone truly make him irresistible.
Are There Other Jewish Players in College Football?
“Yeah, there are other Jewish players. But they’re they’re not observant as far as I know.”
These are tough times for Jews all around the world. Do you feel any rise in antisemitism around you?
“It’s probably one of the only campus in the country you can go. And feel safe as a Jew. There is no antisemitism really there.”
Salz is studying economics and also aspires to become a rabbi. The question of whether he has a future as a professional football player is irrelevant to him.