Dial “W” for murder.
Here’s another Weegee gallery, this one at the New York Times.
My father was a schvitzer. Schvitz is a Yiddish word for sweat. His mother was a schvitzer too (but only on one side of her face, it was the strangest thing). I remember calling the old man during the summer months. “How you doin’, Pop?”
“Wet,” he’ say, or “Damp,” or “Moist.” Sometimes he’d just say, in his best Zero Mostel: “HOT.”
I thought of the great family schvitzer last night watching Alfredo Aceves on TV. I have never seen a baseball player sweat like that. The bill of his cap was water-logged after a few batters, thick drops of perspiration falling in his face. Aceves was in trouble in the sixth inning, but then Brett Gardner froze at third on a passed ball, Derek Jeter to hit into a double play. Aceves didn’t stop sweating but he saved the rest of the bullpen and finished the game.
Hey Aceves, this schvitz’s for you.
[Photo Credit: Weegee]