He used to keep it hidden. Even many of his teammates — those Adam McQuaid spent years playing with, protecting, avenging — didn’t know. He only recently reached the point that when asked what he has done on unencumbered Sundays, he mentions church. He used to leave that out. There were hints: the cross dangling from a chain around his neck, the black rubber encircling his wrist with “I am second” in white.
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