Hot & Bothered

They keep the rooms so warm here, no matter how chilly or swarmy it is outside. I've been in my room all day, almost (but not quite) moist with sweat, filled with ballooning dreams and misgivings, feeling my limbs like tenuously connected lumps of junk metal, sore steel and 6-tons of brass in each buttock, each arm, a stone of terrifying pain in my calf and slivers of worry in my shins; disgust at the courage that isn't there and the spiraling optimism; and I'm sitting here watching the clock tick by minutes that I'm not at practice.