And my locks, lest it go unsaid, were glorious.
That other guy? That was West Coast Manaea. A good look for surfing, hiking, and getting small roles in Aquaman movies. That worked when I was an Athletic, a Giant, a Padre. Me in my kaftan and sandals. But this is East Coast me. This is the guy that wears black, drives a tinted-window SUV, and comes to work clean shaven and with a dark sense of purpose.
There was nothing wrong with that old guy, but I need to put him aside and become someone new. How many wins, losses, innings pitched, strikeouts and walks this new guy has in him, I don't know, but I feel him being born from within me, and if you have any theories, maybe you had best put them here.
