Yesterday was very hot. The Diner Old Boys, an adult all-male soccer team I’m on, had its first match. Due to the lazy referee’s confusion, we found ourselves short one man at the start of the game. So we picked up a Mexican guy who happened to be sitting on the side-lines and put him in goal. A few minutes afterward, and 5 lost goals later, I replaced him.
Note to team: remember not to pick up short guys off the street and put them in goal.
Regardless of the heat and the heat (in Spanish those are two different words), nobody on either team was at their best. We put up as fierce a competition as we could muster, but the other team was obviously more comfortable playing together and we lost. But what a sweat I mustered sitting in goal!
Although I had been wearing the goalie jersey for most of the game, I quickly sweated through the team tee shirt I had put on before making my way to the subway. By the time I reached the Brooklyn Bridge station, I was drenched. New York subways are not known for their aeration, and the underground mugginess only added to the general overflowing cataracts of my pores. By the time I had caught a transfer to my B train home, there were multiple rivulets flowing southward from my torso and buttocks.
Being a source of water in a sun-scorched environs, one has a heightened sense of hydrodynamics and an awareness of the disproportionate distribution of water. It became apparent to me that despite the best intentions of the climate, the vast majority of people on the street and in the trains had not succeeded in sweating through their clothing. I marveled at the throngs of cotton-clad fashionisters with their perfectly dry tops and bottoms. What further shocked me was the lack of attention I was getting as I dripped sweat-smelled puddles by the doors of the B train to Brooklyn.
Sure, there were a few glances at my saturated discoloured shoulders and thighs. But hardly what I considered commensurate with my degree of wetness.
Note to self: if you’re going to sweat in public, as you always do, it’s best to wear clothing clearly indicating that you have been playing a sport in the sun. Preferably something with a big visible number on the back of the shirt. People accept this as normal.
nice observations amos. I’m a sweater as well. What can you do but move to Norway?