Israel’s ‘ice orphans’: Survival, legacy, and the battle for hockey gold in Sofia
· Yahoo Sports
For the small, bruised, and fiercely dedicated community of Israeli hockey, this tournament is absolutely everything.
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The air surrounding the Israeli national ice hockey team these days is as thin, cold, and profoundly fragile as the very ice they glide upon and while the global sports media remains largely indifferent to the matches taking place at the Winter Sports Palace in the heart of Sofia, Bulgaria.
And while the eyes of the sporting world are certainly not fixed on the struggles of a lower-tier division, for the small, bruised, and fiercely dedicated community of Israeli hockey, this tournament is absolutely everything. This is not merely a competition; it is an existential battle for a program that has been pushed to the very brink of extinction.
The agonizing anticipation has already broken, the first puck has already been dropped onto the scarred surface of the rink, and the first critical chapter of Israel’s harrowing journey in the 2026 IIHF World Championship Division II, Group B, the high-stakes, deeply physical encounter against the national team of New Zealand, has already been written into the history books. Israel defeated New Zealand 7-6 in overtime in the first game of the tournament and was set to face Bulgaria late Tuesday, followed by group matches slated against Chinese Taipei, Kyrgyzstan and Iceland
However, the most staggering detail of this opening clash didn’t happen on the scoreboard, but behind the bench. In a plot twist that feels more like a fever dream than professional international sports, head coach Evgeny Gusin was forced to be physically absent from the bench for this inaugural game. While the players were warming up in Sofia, Gusin was embroiled in a desperate, last-minute bureaucratic war back in Israel, personally fighting to secure the final flights and travel documents for several of his pupils who were stranded by wartime logistics. It is perhaps the ultimate illustration of the “amateur” chaos the program faces: a national head coach serving as a travel agent until the very last second, sacrificing his place on the bench to ensure his players could simply reach the arena.
In Gusin’s absence, the team’s leadership fell to a unique duo. On the ice, the veteran presence of Kirill Polozov, a man whose career has been defined by his steady hand in high-pressure moments, stepped up to guide the younger lines through the tactical fog. Joining him on the bench was Gusin’s trusted assistant, Mike Gennello. The American-born figure whose influence on the local scene is growing rapidly as he prepares to lead the United States delegation for the upcoming Maccabiah Games, found himself standing on the lines against New Zealand, serving as the primary voice in the locker room. This makeshift coaching structure is yet another vivid illustration of the program’s fundamental duality: a heartbreakingly unprofessional infrastructure met with the boundless heart and devotion of those who refuse to let the sport die.
Team Israel stands united on the ice in Sofia, Bulgaria, as the national anthem echoes. (credit: FELIX KOZAK)The opening result set the definitive tone for a saga that transcends the standard narratives of wins and losses. It is the desperate, echoing pulse of a sport that currently exists in a state of clinical animation, kept alive only by the sheer willpower of the men wearing the blue-and-white jerseys. It is the dramatic story of a national program that has been effectively orphaned by its own government, its official federation disbanded into an administrative void, and its players left fighting for a future that feels as perilously slippery as the frozen surface beneath their skates. To truly understand why these specific players are fighting with such unprecedented ferocity in the arenas of Bulgaria, one must first look back at the wildly improbable, almost defiantly absurd history of ice hockey in a sun-drenched Mediterranean climate.
An act of sheer, stubborn human will
Ice hockey in the State of Israel was never a natural athletic evolution; rather, it was an act of sheer, stubborn human will that began in the most unlikely of places. The year was 1986, and the location was a small, makeshift, deeply inadequate rink in the northern suburb of Kiryat Motzkin, where the constant, desperate hum of overtaxed cooling units battled relentlessly against the unforgiving Israeli heat. It was a sport imported entirely by passionate immigrants arriving from North America and the collapsing Soviet Union, people who carried their heavy leather skates and wooden sticks in their suitcases like sacred, indispensable relics of a former life they refused to leave behind.
In the early 1990s, however, this fringe hobby found its true soul and its permanent home in the rocky landscapes of the Galilee. The grand opening of the Olympic-sized ice rink at the Canada Centre in the northern border town of Metulla changed the trajectory of the sport forever. It quickly became the undisputed hub of Israeli hockey, an unlikely sanctuary where the sharp scent of frozen water, sweat, and old athletic equipment offered a bizarre but welcoming reprieve from the scorching Middle Eastern sun.
While Metulla remains the spiritual heart, the sport has slowly clawed its way into other urban centres. Today, small but vital pockets of ice can be found in the rinks of Holon, Ashdod, and the Tnuvot arena near Netanya. These scattered patches of frozen water represent the expanding footprint of a sport that refuses to stay confined to the northern border, even as the lack of a central, full-sized Olympic facility in the heart of the country remains the greatest bottleneck for its growth. That magnificent building in the north witnessed the absolute zenith of the sport, culminating in a moment that veterans still speak of with a profound sense of awe.
“Israeli hockey has always been a miracle of persistence over logic”, says Lev Genin, the legendary figure affectionately and universally known as “Mr. Israeli Hockey”, who has witnessed the sport’s highest, most intoxicating peaks and its steepest, most devastating declines.
“We built a home of Olympic standards in the desert, and even now, as the walls crumble and the ice in Metulla melts under the heavy shadow of war, that pioneer spirit remains fiercely alive in these players. They aren’t just skating for a piece of metal; they are refusing to let a 40-year legacy vanish into the mists of history”.
Leading this desperate charge to preserve that legacy is the national team’s head coach, Gusin, a man whose remarkable life story serves as a living bridge between the highly disciplined, historically great Soviet hockey tradition and the chaotic, deeply emotional grit of the Israeli sports landscape. Born in 1968 in the industrial city of Temirtau, Kazakhstan, Gusin’s deep immersion into the world of elite hockey began in the renowned Russian hockey hub of Voskresensk. There, he developed his formidable skills as a goaltender under the strict, legendary tutelage of the Honored Coach of Russia, A.N. Korkin. Gusin absorbed the relentless discipline, the complex tactical geometry, and the uncompromising physical demands of the Soviet hockey machine, traits that he eventually brought with him when he immigrated to Israel.
Upon arriving in his new country, Gusin did not merely play; he became an absolute cornerstone of the Israeli national team, standing tall in the net during the program’s formative international years. His dedication to the sport extended far beyond the crease, eventually leading him to the complex administrative realm where he served as the President of the Ice Hockey Federation of Israel from 2013 to 2018. Today Gusin’s deep tactical knowledge and his intimate understanding of both the Soviet methodology and the Israeli mentality are being heavily relied upon to navigate the team through its most turbulent, unstructured era.
“Every tournament brings new difficulties and new players,” Gusin explains. “We have to play with the cards we are dealt and adapt to the conditions and the roster every single time. Our focus is on the systems we can control, regardless of the chaos surrounding the administration”.
The value of adaptability
This profound adaptability is absolutely crucial as the Israeli squad faces a brutal gauntlet of five distinct, highly motivated rivals in Sofia, each presenting a unique tactical puzzle that Gusin and his players must solve in order to survive. The path to the gold medal and the desperately coveted promotion is fraught with danger.
“Most of the teams we are playing against now are entirely new to this generation of Israeli players, making the tournament a deeply unpredictable campaign where absolutely every single game must be treated with the intensity and desperation of a grand final,” says Gusin.
Among the players fighting tirelessly on the front lines of this unpredictable tournament in Sofia is Ori Segal, a bright, deeply articulate 21-year-old center who is set to celebrate his 22nd birthday next month. Segal’s personal journey from the quiet, agricultural landscapes of Kibbutz Sde Nehemya in northern Israel to the highly competitive NCAA college hockey ranks at Curry College in Boston perfectly epitomizes the immense personal sacrifices required to keep this fractured sport alive.
Segal, who is the only son of a dedicated single mother, grew up honing his skills at the Maccabi Young Metulla club, spending his formative years inside the Canada Centre before making the incredibly brave, daunting decision at the age of 17 to move completely alone to the United States to pursue his athletic dreams. He openly admits that the fear of leaving his mother alone in a region frequently targeted by conflict was immense, and he feels that anxiety now more than ever during the current wartime environment. Yet, his profound aspiration to study, to continue playing at a high level, and, most importantly, to represent the Israeli national team on the global stage remained an unstoppable driving force in his life.
Speaking from the heart of the tournament, Segal projects a calm, unwavering confidence, stating clearly “that I see the team as fully capable of winning and bringing immense pride to the country, especially at such a complex, painful time when the entire nation of Israel so desperately needs a bit of genuine encouragement and positive motivation”.
Adding to this surge of young talent is Nick Ogortcin, the 18-year-old phenom who represents the future of the Israeli defensive core. Ogortcin brings a level of skating poise and tactical awareness that is rare for his age. Making his senior debut in Sofia, the weight of the moment is not lost on him.
“This is it - the battle for gold begins now,” Ogortcin says with a focused intensity. “The situation back home in Israel is heavy, we all feel it, but once you lace up your skates and step onto that ice, that weight becomes fuel. We aren’t here to just ‘show up’ or participate. We are here to win, to show that Israeli hockey is alive and fighting.
Rising glory on the ice
Yet, the immense pride and the undeniable, rising glory on the ice stand in stark, depressing contrast to the absolute ruin occurring off it.
The Ice Hockey Federation of Israel has effectively disbanded, collapsing under the weight of financial debt, bureaucratic neglect, and a staggering lack of state support, leaving the national program in a state of total administrative vacuum. Genin describes this dire situation with the heartbreaking bluntness of a man who has dedicated his entire life to building the sport, explaining that the federation is simply gone, and that they are now operating completely without budgets, without official recognition, and without a “mother and father” to take care of the endless logistical nightmares that come with international competition.
General Manager Josh Greenberg, who moved to Israel from Los Angeles fuelled by a Zionism that translated into a life of service to the rink, furiously echoes this sentiment. Greenberg has spent the last year performing administrative miracles just to keep the team functional amidst the collapse.
“We have been fighting for 20 years just to be noticed by our own sports authorities,” Greenberg says, his voice tinged with both frustration and resolve. “The government has frequently been more of a bureaucratic hurdle than a source of help. We are closer than ever to greatness on the ice, but we are being held back by a lack of vision off it. We need a full-sized Olympic rink in the centre of the country, in Tel Aviv or near a major train station, to make this sport accessible to the masses. We need the media and the Ministry of Sport to see that this isn’t just a niche hobby for immigrants; it’s a national asset that teaches discipline, teamwork, and resilience. I’ve spent my own resources to ensure these boys have jerseys and flights, but that’s not a sustainable way to run a national team.”
In the total absence of this institutional support, the players have collectively turned their profound sense of abandonment into an impenetrable shield. They are playing for the ghost of a dead federation, they are playing for the shuttered, silent rink in Metulla, and they are drawing strength from a global mosaic of Israeli talent that has converged from the Czech Republic, Sweden, Slovenia, Romania, and the United States, all fiercely united under the blue-and-white flag.
The resounding message from these “Ice Orphans” is crystalline and undeniable: they are fighting desperately for promotion, they are fighting furiously against the abyss of relegation, and most importantly, fighting to prove to the world, and to themselves, that the resilient flame of Israeli hockey cannot and will not be extinguished.