Author’s note: For tonight’s game coverage, I’ll be abandoning illeism, opting instead for a personal story due to the circumstances of late-season Chris Getz exhaustion and burnout. If you dislike that, maybe you should skip this one altogether.
The last time I put my worst foot forward in life, I was a high school freshman, working at a fast food job that I needed in order to feed myself, despite being too young to legally drive myself to work. My manager, a resentful, teenager-loathing clod, refused to believe that I had a medical condition that prevented me from having full use of my hands if they were cold, because, as he concluded, 15-year-old me was “hot.