“Mind the Gap” is a safety warning, most familiarly on the London Underground via a recorded voice and signs, to alert passengers to the space between the train and the platform edge, a tripping hazard.
I experienced this first-hand during a European river cruise a few years ago, when my wife and I joined members of our group on a trip from Paris to London via the high-speed train.
We were carrying our own luggage, which in my case consisted of a big, heavy suitcase and a backpack, and since I was just a few months off my second hip replacement, I still was limping. When we arrived at the station, we not only had to mind the gap, but also steep steps from the train to the platform.
Of course I tripped, tumbling hard to the pavement. Miraculously, I was unhurt outside a sore elbow, but it truly could have been a disaster for our trip.
So on our last day in London, when my wife and I were picking up souvenirs from friends, family and ourselves, I chose … a pair of socks, emblazoned with Mind the Gap.
Every time I put them on, I’m reminded of our trip and my good fortune in not ending up in a British hospital.
With apologies to gender neutrality, they say “clothes make the man.” I agree. Certainly my clothes tell little parts of my story almost every day.
I wear Eagles socks to church every NFL Sunday, and my jerseys are carefully curated to bring my team luck. I’ll get back to that.
On our first ever European trip, months after the Eagles’ 2018 Super Bowl victory, I brought my Philly Special T-shirt, which included a diagram of the greatest play in Super Bowl history. I wore it on our first excursion, a bus trip to Luzerne, Switzerland. The Swiss, including our guide, found this shirt mystifying, but a guy in a Luzerne gift shop perked up when he saw it. “I’m from Cherry Hill,” he told me.
Instant connection. We had a great Eagles chat.
I have socks, T-shirts and IronPigs jerseys commemorating my fondness for Christmas, my favorite movies, the Spam-cooking contests I’ve judged at the Allentown Fair, places we’ve visited, the college and pro sports teams I root for, even roller coasters I’ve ridden.
I have a great T-shirt from the best barbecue restaurant I ever visited, Augie’s Barbed Wire Smokehouse near San Antonio. The front features the words “Augie’s Pork Butt,” with a view of a pig’s posterior.
Years ago, my wife and I were wandering around an outdoor art show in Scottsdale, Arizona. As we were ordering lunch from a barbecue food truck, the owner spotted me and concluded he had to have my shirt, offering one of his Tom’s BBQ shirts in return. In front was a cute cartoon pig and “Tom’s BBQ. Arizona’s Best!” On the back, a posterior pig view with “No Butts About It!”
Since I had a duplicate Augie’s shirt at home, I took mine off right there, and we traded.
I could go on with more examples, but my point is, our clothes can tell great stories about us.
I’m a big admirer of shorts-all-year guys, to whom the temperature is irrelevant. My son-in-law is one of those, and my grandsons seem to be following in his footsteps.
For me, it’s inspiring to see one of these guys tromping through the snow to the grocery store or in the stands at a frigid football game, oblivious to the elements. It reflects a devil-may-care attitude that I wish I could emulate, but can’t.
Backward-baseball-cap guys fall in a similar category. I know some people find it annoying, but I like it, although I’m too old to pull it off very well. I only wear my hats that way on roller coasters and really windy days.
Speaking of hats, I’m a big rally cap guy, where you turn your baseball hat inside out to inspire your baseball team to make a comeback.
You see this all the time at Phillies games, but for some reason, IronPigs fans don’t get it. Every time I do it, I’m amazed that no one else is following suit, particularly since it has proven to be incredibly successful in sparking ‘Pigs rallies.
One of my season ticket friends was yelling at me one time because my rally caps kept prolonging an endless extra inning game. She had to stick around with her grandkids for the post-game fireworks, and she wanted the game to be over, but inspired by my cap, the ‘Pigs kept coming back to tie it.
I’ve heard many times from sports fans who are convinced, as I am, that we influence the results by our clothing choices and other rituals.
My green Nick Foles No. 9 IronPigs jersey, complete with a little diagram of the Philly Special play, has been flawless this season, including last Sunday night’s big win over Detroit.
So when you’re celebrating another victory over the hated Cowboys tomorrow afternoon, remember who made it happen.
You’re welcome.
This is a contributed opinion column. Bill White can be reached at whitebil1974@gmail.com. The views expressed in this piece are those of its individual author, and should not be interpreted as reflecting the views of this publication. Do you have a perspective to share? Learn more about how we handle guest opinion submissions at themorningcall.com/opinions.
