Shay on the table tennis delegation to Düsseldorf, with Shay also leading off the table
Journey to Germany
The table tennis delegation’s trip to Düsseldorf, Germany, was much more than a sporting competition for Shay.
It was his first trip to a significant international setting, with a large airport, trains, a foreign language, a different culture, a tight schedule, children and teenagers from different countries, and the natural pressure of training and competition.
From the very first moment, at the Frankfurt airport, you could see something very clear in Shay: when the situation became complex, he did not disappear into the pressure. On the contrary. He became sharper, calmer, and very attentive to his surroundings.
The airport was large and confusing. The delegation had to find their way, move from place to place, take care of equipment, luggage, children, and time. In all of this, Shay was the one who knew how to navigate best. He looked at the signs, understood where to go, and helped others find their way. At one point, I almost forgot my luggage, and Shay was the one who noticed it and made sure we didn’t continue without them.
It wasn’t a big or dramatic moment from the outside, but it said a lot. Shay wasn’t just busy with himself. He noticed what was happening around him. He saw what others were missing. He felt responsible even for the little things, especially in places where it’s easy to say, “That’s not my job.”
From there we continued by train from Frankfurt to Düsseldorf. Not everything was easy there either. It was a long journey, a lot of traffic, equipment, luggage, children, coaches, and the need to make sure everyone got along. It wasn’t always possible to sit together. Some of the delegation sat in different cabins. In such a situation, it’s easy to get stressed or scattered. Shay again functioned in a very mature way. He made sure everyone had a place to sit, even if not everyone was sitting in the same cabin. He paid attention to the equipment, checked who was where, and helped maintain a sense of order and security.
What was special about this was that he didn’t “take command” loudly. He didn’t have to declare that he was leading. He simply did what was needed. Quietly. Responsibly. With the understanding that someone needs to see the big picture, and he is capable of doing that.
Even when we arrived in Düsseldorf and continued on the light rail, there was a mistake along the way. We got off one stop before the correct one. It’s a small but very familiar situation: we’re in a strange place, not entirely sure of the way, tired from the trip, and suddenly realize we were wrong. Here too, Shay didn’t get stressed or accuse. He reoriented himself, understood the direction, and helped us get to the right place.
International competition
The competition itself took place at the Andro KIDS venue. Anyone familiar with such tournaments knows the energy there: many tables, many children and teenagers, different languages, coaches, matches, cheers, losses, victories, pressure, noise, and excitement.
For children competing abroad, it is a big experience. But it can also be very stressful.
And there we saw another ability in Shay. He knew how to calm people down.
He did not let the pressure turn the competition into something threatening. He was there for others. A good word here, a smile there, a quiet presence. You do not always need a speech in order to calm someone. Sometimes it is enough that someone next to you quietly communicates: “It’s okay. We can handle this.”
It is the kind of thing that, from the outside, may look like a small detail in the journey. For me, it is the heart of the story.
Because Shay could have stayed at the competition. He could have stayed with everyone, stayed in the atmosphere, stayed in the noise and excitement. But there was a child there who was not feeling well, and Shay understood that in that moment, what mattered most was not the next match, but the person in front of him.
I can imagine him saying something simple, in his way:
“Come on, I’m with you. We’ll go back to the hotel.”
No drama.
No declaration.
Just being there.
Seeing the other
From a sporting perspective too, Shay faced an interesting challenge. In the doubles competition, he was paired with a German player he had not known beforehand. They had not trained together, they had not arrived as a pair, and there was also a language barrier between them.
That is not a simple situation. You need to play with someone you do not know, understand how he moves, how he thinks, how he reacts, how to encourage him, how to signal to him, how to build trust quickly.
The coaches trusted Shay to handle it. And they were right.
Shay was not intimidated by the fact that the player beside him was German. He did not get stuck on the fact that they did not speak the same language. He understood that cooperation is not built only with words. Sometimes it is built with a look, a movement, listening, patience, mutual respect, and the ability to adapt yourself to another person.
And this may be one of the strongest things we can learn from this story.
Sometimes we meet someone who does not speak like us, who does not behave like us, who does not come from the same world. We can move away because of the gap. Or we can try to build a bridge.
Shay chose to build a bridge.
Throughout the trip, I saw how he absorbed the local culture. How people behaved, how they spoke, how they moved in public spaces, how they respected the place they were in. Not out of self-effacement, but out of sensitivity. He understood that when you are a guest in another place, part of your responsibility is to listen to the environment and behave accordingly.
And there was also a funny, very human moment that I do not want to leave out.
As on any trip with children and teenagers, there were also moments that were less “educational” in the official sense of the word. At one point, Shay picked up some curse word or expression in German. I am not sure it was exactly something we would want to add to the official dictionary of values, but that was Shay: curious, quick to pick things up, with a little smile in the corner of his mouth, understanding the culture even through the small things that were not always festive or formal.
He could laugh about it and say something like:
“Dad, do you know what that means?”
And I, probably, would have preferred not to know.
But even in that moment, there was something beautiful about him. He was not just “abroad.” He truly absorbed the place. The language. The people. The atmosphere. What was acceptable and what was less so. The boundary between fitting in and being swept away. Even that humor was part of his ability to be inside a new environment and understand it quickly.
inspiration
Toward the end of the trip, we had a very special experience. We took the light rail to watch a league match of Borussia Düsseldorf, the local table tennis club where Timo Boll, one of the greatest and most famous table tennis players in the world, played.
For Shay, who loved table tennis, this was a huge moment.
The arena, the crowd, the high level of play, the closeness to the great players, the professional atmosphere – everything was exciting. You could see it on him. The spark in his eyes. The excitement of a boy who suddenly found himself close to a world he admired.
I remember that feeling. There was no need to explain to him why it was special. He understood it by himself.
Maybe he said something like:
“Dad, this is insane.”
And truly, for him it was insane. Not in the sense of noise or shouting, but in the sense of inspiration. To see up close how far one can go. To see what table tennis looks like at the highest levels. To feel the arena, the crowd, the rhythm.
But even after that moving moment, there came another small test of responsibility.
On the way back, it was already late, and there was no convenient public transportation all the way to the hotel. We got off at a station relatively far away, and we had to walk back. We were in an unfamiliar place, tired, after a long day.
And again, Shay was there.
He navigated. He led the way. He kept us going in the right direction. He made sure the group reached the hotel.
Here too, no one needed to crown him as a leader. He simply was one, in the moment when someone needed to take responsibility.
The power in your silence
When I look back at this story today, I understand that it is not a story about a table tennis competition in Germany.
It is a story about Shay.
About a boy who, in moments of pressure, uncertainty, a foreign language, and an unfamiliar environment, knew how to bring calm with him.
About a teenager who saw the other person.
About a player who knew how to cooperate even with someone he did not know.
About a friend who went back to the hotel with a child who was not feeling well.
About a son who noticed the suitcases his father almost forgot.
About someone who did not wait to be told what to do.
He did not look for a stage.
He did not lead through instructions.
He led through actions.
He noticed.
He cared.
He navigated.
He calmed.
He connected.
He respected.
He acted.
And that may be one of the things I most want to remain from this story.
Leadership does not always look like a big speech.
Sometimes it looks like a boy saying: “Dad, the suitcases.”
Sometimes it looks like a teenager making sure everyone has a place to sit on the train.
Sometimes it looks like someone going back to the hotel with a friend who does not feel well.
Sometimes it looks like cooperation with a foreign player, even without many words.
And sometimes it looks like a late night walk back to the hotel, when everyone is tired, and one person simply knows where to go.
This is a story about table tennis.
But more than that, it is a story about a way of life.
About how to behave when not everything is clear.
About how to meet another person.
About how to build a bridge when there are gaps.
About how to see someone who needs help.
And about how the greatest strength can sometimes be found precisely in quiet.
