COLLEGE STATION, Texas — Sam Salz emerged from Texas A&M’s Bright Football Complex at dusk in early February, eager to explain how he got here.
“Over there,” he pointed, patting his yarmulke with his other hand. “That’s where it happened.”
The land beyond is adjacent to where the Aggies football team practices. Saltz is just a student with a dream for the spring of 2021. He arrives at the field an hour before Texas A&M practice every day and stays an hour after practice ends.
Saltz, a 5-foot-6, 160-pound Orthodox Jewish student who had never played organized football, planned to try out for an SEC program as a walk-on. He worked hard to stay in shape and get faster, even if he didn’t know how. He practiced using old shoes instead of cones. He lined up trash cans to simulate a melee. He has no cleats. He doesn’t even have a place to practice. He just worked.
Saltz graduated from Kohelet Yeshiva High School, a Modern Orthodox college preparatory school in Philadelphia with about 100 students that did not field a football team. And, as usual, he had a plan.
Saltz figured if he showed up every day and worked out like a team member, he would get noticed. But he didn’t let it go. That fall, he joined then-head coach Jimbo Fisher’s weekly radio show at Rudy’s Country Store and Grill to meet the man who would decide his fate.
“I walked up to him, looked him in the eye and said, ‘I’m Sam Salz and I’m going to be on your football team,'” he recalled, ignoring the team’s policy requiring substitutes to play in games. .
Fisher glanced back at the diminutive Saltz and, in a tone more genial than serious, replied: “I would be honored.”
Salz keeps returning to the radio show, just as he returns to the land. He approached Fisher again and asked if he could attend practice to get a better sense of how the Aggies were doing. Salz took note of what he learned and incorporated it into his independent training.
The field Saltz uses is separated from the Aggies practice field by a chain-link fence.
“I told myself, ‘I’m part of this team,'” Saltz said. “They train on that side of the fence, I train on this side of the fence, but I’m part of the team. That’s what I firmly believe in. I can practice, the energy is great. The guys found this after training. The guys in the yarmulke are working out every day and they’re going to be hyped for me and I’m going to talk to the coaches.
Saltz didn’t realize the coaches were talking about him, too.
Salz, 21, became obsessed with playing college football as a young man, for reasons he can’t say.
“People always talk about ‘Rudy’ to me,” Saltz said of the popular movie about a Notre Dame fan who would do anything for his team. “That’s funny, I’ve never seen that before.”
College football games are primarily played on Shabbat — the Jewish Sabbath, which runs from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. As it turns out, he didn’t grow up watching the sport.
For devout Orthodox Jews, the Sabbath is a full day of communion with God, whether it’s studying Torah, praying or spending time with community. Jewish law limits interference. No working, no lifting, no cooking, no cleaning, no commercial transactions, no use of electricity, no riding in motor vehicles, etc.
And, obviously, no football was played.
Sam Salz will only be able to suit up for the Aggies after sunset on Saturday’s game. (Texas A&M Athletics)
So, what drew Salz to Texas A&M?
In high school, Saltz, like many other kids, was attracted by the Internet craze for the “perfect man.” A group of friends took the internet by storm by recording stunt footage and posting it on YouTube. Saltz learned that members of Dude Perfect, now based in Frisco, Texas, were college roommates at Texas A&M University. Saltz became enamored with the school, a former military institution known for its ambitions, revered traditions, oil tycoons, Friday night midnight shouts and Saturday Aggies football games.
Sam Saltz was originally a running back but is now a wide receiver for the Aggies. (Texas A&M Athletics)
He did his research. The university has more than 70,000 students, and there are an estimated 500 Jewish students on campus, less than 1 percent of the population, according to the university’s Hillel website.
He contacted Rabbi Yossi Lazaroff of Texas A&M Chabad. He thought College Station was the right fit.
“It really has to do with culture, what the school stands for and the alumni network,” he said. “It’s very different from any other school in the United States. It also has a strong Jewish community, albeit a small one.
Saltz said he was eager to prove to himself and other Orthodox Jews that religious belief need not infringe on goals or the pursuit of happiness. For him, for some reason, it involves football.
“I’ve always been a ‘let’s see if I can do it’ kind of person,” Saltz said. “I don’t know how it got into my head. People thought I was talking bullshit, but I always had this belief in my head when I was a little kid that I had to play college football or else I wouldn’t Will do everything I can – or should – do in life.
When Saltz was a kid, his school held a fundraiser selling cookie dough. The student who sells the most wins a flat-screen TV. Saltz was fascinated and developed a sales strategy with the help of an accountant friend.
“He won,” said his mother, Mariana Saltz. “My mentality is, if you want to try something, just do it. I know my son, so it’s not a surprise and a shock like it might be to other people. He’s a strong-willed guy. When he told me When he wanted to do it, I said, ‘Okay, this is your next thing, go ahead and do it.
Even with all of Saltz’s planning, he never realized Fisher could see him working out in his office at Kyle Field.
“In the offseason, even on days when we weren’t practicing, he was still out there,” said Mark Robinson, then associate athletic director at Texas A&M and now chief of staff at the University of Florida. “There was a balcony overlooking the court. (Fisher) would see him there and just say, ‘That’s the kid who comes on the radio show. He’s always working out, and I love his drive.
When Saltz first came to College Station in 2021, he was taking online classes at a school in the Texas A&M System until he became a full-time student on the main campus, where he could try out for the football team. Then there were so many players in the Texas A&M program before the 2022 season that walk-on tryouts were not held.
But heading into a difficult 2022 season — which included a six-game losing streak — Fisher wanted to make a statement to the locker room. He wants someone like Saltz on his roster, he wants something bigger than what seems possible and is willing to work for it.
“I got a text from Mark about halfway through the season,” Saltz said.
The text message from Robinson was simple: “Sam, are you available to come to the football office today or tomorrow?”
When Saltz answered “yes” and received more information about the walk-on process, he couldn’t help himself.
He screamed, jumped up and down, and pumped his fists as hard as he could.
Fisher and Robinson invited him to join the team, even though he lacked the size and experience needed to compete in the SEC.
“I don’t want to sound arrogant or self-aggrandizing when I say this. But there are things I’m willing to do that most people aren’t willing to do,” Saltz said. “I built relationships and made myself known to them. I think (Fisher) appreciated that persistence. That’s something an old-school coach would appreciate.
Never one to hide his faith, Salz proudly wore his yarmulke and kerchief, turban, and the knotted tassels or tassels on his Jewish prayer shawls, which served as reminders of the 613 verses in the Torah. commandment. But he initially worried the coaching staff wouldn’t understand the time constraints of his religious beliefs and his need to eat only kosher food.
Sam Salz attends a high school with approximately 100 students. Now his teams play in stadiums with more than 100,000 seats.
Texas A&M accommodated Saltz, though. He is not expected to participate in team activities on the Jewish holiday. The first training session after he was invited to the team was on Yom Kippur, and he did not participate. Team nutritionist Tiffany Ilten made sure Saltz had access to kosher meals, which she purchased from a distributor in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Kosher”.
“Our first priority is to ensure that all student-athletes are fed and nourished,” Ilten said. “It was a challenge at first, but not bad. It’s just something new that we all have to educate ourselves on.
Saltz and Robinson, who are also Jewish, symbolically connected themselves to God by wrapping tefillin, small leather boxes and bands around their arms and heads.
Saltz remained a part of the program, initially as a running back, after Fisher was fired last November and Mike Elko was hired. He was slow to develop and still lacked basic football knowledge and the physicality to run between the tackles. The longer he’s with the team, the more he’ll be integrated into the scouting staff, where he’ll likely have his biggest impact.
He moved to receiver, and Texas A&M needed depth. He understands his physical limitations when competing against elite athletes. But when he talked about it, he reached into his pocket and shared a clip of him running a straight line and making a nice catch in practice.
“He’s been working hard,” Texas A&M strength coach Tommy Moffitt said. “There was a size difference between him and the others, but he didn’t let that discourage him. The players embraced him and he worked hard.
“We need guys like that on our team,” said former A&M wide receiver Ainias Smith, the Eagles’ fifth-round pick in the 2024 NFL draft. “Once people get here, it seems like everyone feels like they’ve made it. His story inspires us to keep going.
Saltz believes he is the only Orthodox Jewish player on the college football team. This is not something the NCAA tracks.
Perhaps the biggest challenge for him is coming to terms with the fact that no matter how good he performs, he will always be limited on game day. If the Aggies play during the day, he can’t attend because he’s celebrating the Sabbath.
For night games, he walked more than a mile from his apartment to Kyle Field. Staff at the entrance let him into the building — he couldn’t use the fingerprint scanner on Sabbath — and he finished his Sabbath work in the team room. He studied Torah, ate a meal, and got dressed as the sun set. Midway through the third quarter, he ran out of the tunnel and joined the team wearing No. 39, a yarmulke and a tzitzit.
“My teammates joke that in the new NCAA tournament, my overall score should be 99, but I can only use it in the fourth quarter of night games,” he said.
Salz has yet to appear in a game. He was unavailable for Texas A&M’s full-court start in November’s win over Abilene Christian (the team opened to the 12th man of the 1980s). team salute) because the game was played during the day.
So why would he put himself through such a routine if playing wasn’t rewarding in the end?
“I know why I do it: for my Jewish brothers and sisters,” Saltz said. “I know I can inspire a lot of people.”
(Pictured above by Dan Goldfarb / Competitor; Photo: Courtesy of Texas A&M Athletics)
