Fuck Yeah McCovey Chronicles

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Then something happened. I’ve whittled down exactly what that was into two possible scenarios:

Scenario A:
One morning, Tim Lincecum woke up. He had a glass of orange juice, a banana, and two eggs over easy. He stretched, yawned, and learned a changeup. Now Tim Lincecum was the best pitcher on the planet. He was also full of energy from his nutritious breakfast.

Scenario B:
The full moon was silver, shimmering, making the lake seem as if it was fire. Tim Lincecum lay under the banyan tree, weary from his day’s journey. He dropped his gourd and closed his eyes for what seemed like the first time in months. In his dream, Hecate came to him in a youthful form. She gripped a baseball between her pointer and middle fingers, and the ball howled in pain. Even Hecate could not put the ball at ease. She said to Tim, “A gift. But be warned the baseball is tormented by this painful grip, which presses on its very soul. The ball will dart from your hands as soon as you release it, but it will slowly fade into nothingness as it approaches its destination, dying before it reaches home plate.” When Tim Lincecum woke up, he struck Zeus out on three straight changeups, then turned into a swan and slept with Zeus’s wife just because he could. Also, Tim Lincecum was now the best pitcher on the planet.