I will be honest: I did not, at this time, smell what The Rock was cooking. I knew who he was, and a few years later I was lucky enough to watch him wrestle in person; it was really spine-tingling the way he could command that entire arena. But even then, I did not fully whiff what was simmering on that stove. I did not imagine that he’d end up making his own movies, his own TV shows, his own tequila. I did not anticipate the size of his muscles, or that I would want to watch Leg Day on his Instagram. I did not inhale deeply over the pot on the burner and identify the sweet smell of success. And I feel like even The Rock may not, in this moment of wearing a jacket with no shirt to the Emmys, have fully understood the piquant nosefeel of what he’d chucked into his Le Creuset. Basically, you look at this dude, and you think, “Okay, Jersey Shore, good luck!” And now you look at him and think, “Remember when you were going to run for president? That didn’t seem like the worst idea…???”

[Photo: Shutterstock]