Back in Austria during the ’60s, my father and his soccer buddies played a heated match with a rival team from Graz consisting entirely of bodybuilders, including a young Arnold Schwarzenegger. Intimidated at first, Dad’s team turned the tide and came out with a blowout win, aided in part by the Schwarzenegger team’s lack of agility and stamina. Most visceral in his mind was the “swoosh, swoosh, swoosh” of the bodybuilders’ thighs rubbing against each other:“I think we won because we could hear them coming from a mile away.”
