On the day after Halloween, a Saturday, dusk settled over the city like a mask. On a side street in Murray Hill, a procession of Orthodox Jews filed past a low-rise building to a nearby synagogue.
As one man, wearing a black hat and trench coat, headed in for evening services, Maxine T. whispered, “This guy looks like a wrestling client.” He wasn’t overly impressive physically, but she suggested he could be unexpectedly tough, or “farm strong,” as they say in Iowa.
“Young guys burn themselves out really early,” she said. “Old guys know to pace themselves. They wrestle smarter, not harder.”
Maxine would know. Read More