I wonder is his Mom brought the thunder and lightning down on him. I can't picture him yelling at Frigga or Jord and getting away with it.
From the Player's Tribune
Now, I’m not proud of what I said, but I just kind of blurted it out.“Mom,” I snapped.“Shut up!”I knew it was a mistake as soon as I said it because … man, the way my mom looked at me — her face changed, like, Did he really just say that?It was probably just a case of me being a punk kid and copping an attitude with my mom. But it also could have been that maybe I was still a little mad at her for making me play baseball in the first place. It was all her idea. When I was seven and she first asked me if I wanted to play, I told her no. I didn’t think baseball looked all that fun. I wanted to play soccer.She signed me up anyway.Then she and my dad took me to Walmart to buy me baseball gear. We were standing in one of the aisles looking at cups — you know, like jockstraps and whatever — and my parents were talking really loud about the different kinds of … protection. Everybody in the aisle could hear them.I was so embarrassed that I threw the biggest fit you can imagine. I mean like a full-on, seven-year-old kid screaming, stomping and crying his eyes out fit. It was ridiculous.
Read more here.