Eyal Golan was accused of rape. 30,000 people grabbed tickets to his show anyway. 

The echoes of the “Friendly Games” scandal reverberated anew this Sunday morning, as Eyal Golan opened ticket sales for a June concert at Bloomfield Stadium—and watched over 30,000 seats vanish in less than an hour. A second show, hastily added to meet the frenzy, sold out within hours too.

Yet, as fans rushed to secure their spots, a countercurrent swelled: the “Bonot Alternativa” movement released a manifesto titled “Personal Responsibility in Choosing Performances,” urging a cultural reckoning. “We refuse to collaborate in normalizing the abnormal,” it declared, reigniting a fierce debate over Golan’s legacy and the public’s unwavering devotion.

The ticket surge came against the backdrop of fresh testimonies from N. and Taisia Zamolutsky, two women whose accounts have thrust the decade-old affair back into the spotlight. Three months ago, Zamolutsky—known then as “T” in the “Friendly Games” case—unveiled her identity in a raw Kan 11 interview, detailing alleged abuse by Golan and his entourage when she was a minor. “My only mistake was idolizing him,” she said, her voice trembling with regret. “I idolized a monster.” The revelations, coupled with N.’s corroborating claims of violence and coercion, have fueled calls to shun Golan—yet his fans remain undeterred, their loyalty a defiant roar against the mounting criticism.

A Sold-Out Spectacle

Golan’s PR team trumpeted the sellouts as a triumph, framing the Bloomfield doubleheader as proof of his enduring reign over Israel’s music scene. Over 60,000 tickets gone in a day—a staggering testament to a fanbase unmoved by the allegations swirling since 2013, when the “Friendly Games” probe first implicated Golan and his inner circle in exploiting underage girls. No charges were filed against him then, and Golan has long maintained his innocence, distancing himself from the actions of others “in his orbit.” Yet the speed of this sellout, mere weeks after Zamolutsky’s interview rekindled the scandal, underscores a paradox: the louder the accusations, the tighter his devotees cling.

Zamolutsky’s testimony painted a harrowing picture. She described a trip to Eilat for a Golan gig, where she met N., another accuser. In a hotel room, she alleged, Golan turned violent, pressuring them into sexual acts with his friends. “It was aggressive, forceful—an act of power,” N. recounted. “We were players in his show.” Zamolutsky added a chilling detail: “Afterward, he left, came back, and said, ‘This is the friend I want you to pamper.’ He left him there and walked out.” Golan, in a video response weeks later, sidestepped direct accountability, saying, “I take responsibility for what happened around me, without my knowledge,” while touting a “profound change” in his life. “I walk with my truth,” he insisted, thanking fans who “believe in me.”

A Call to Resist

As ticket sales soared, “Bonot Alternativa” fired back with their manifesto, a passionate outcry against celebrating figures tied to sexual misconduct scandals. “There’s no place for glorifying those at the center of cases involving sexual exploitation and assault,” it read. “We refuse to normalize the abnormal. We choose to support artists and cultural content that foster an equal, safe society for all.” The statement, timed to coincide with the ticket launch, reflects a growing pushback—a plea to rethink the cost of fandom in the face of unresolved accusations.

Liam Productions, Golan’s management, responded with a measured defense. “We welcome any initiative promoting equality, mutual respect, and social responsibility,” they said. “But accuracy matters: Eyal was never charged with any sexual offense. The manifesto’s use of ‘accused’ implies an indictment, which carries a presumption of innocence—unlike ‘convicted,’ where guilt is legally established. In Eyal’s case, not only was he never convicted, but no indictment was ever filed.” The statement sidesteps the visceral weight of the testimonies, leaning instead on legal technicalities to bolster Golan’s narrative.

A Past That Won’t Fade

The “Friendly Games” affair, dormant for years, roared back to life with Zamolutsky’s courage. Her Kan 11 interview, followed by a drop in Golan’s radio play last month, peeled back the veneer of his comeback. N.’s account amplified the outrage: two teens, once starstruck fans, allegedly ensnared in a predatory circle Golan denies orchestrating. “I’m sorry for what happened around me,” he said in his video, a half-apology that sidesteps the specifics Zamolutsky and N. laid bare. “I’ve changed my life completely—those people are gone. You, my audience, are everything to me, and I’m your voice.”

That voice still commands legions. The Bloomfield sellouts—over 60,000 strong—signal a fanbase that either dismisses the allegations or forgives them, a cultural fault line laid bare. Yet “Bonot Alternativa” and its allies press on, their manifesto a quiet but resolute challenge to a society wrestling with its idols. As June looms, Golan’s stage will shine bright—but the shadows cast by N. and Zamolutsky linger, a reminder that ticket stubs can’t erase testimonies.

Channel 12 contributed to this article.