I’ve woken up the last two days with skull-splitting migraines.
Maybe it’s the weather. Or the allergens that surround me. Or the sinus infection. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s Harper Watch 2019. Yeah, that’s the one.
We’ve been riding a high for the last few weeks with reports of John Middleton flying to Las Vegas to meet with one of the few superstars in baseball, one who more than just the casual fan of America’s pastime can recognize away from the field. But with every passing day since Middleton’s plane departed Vegas late Saturday night, the Harpermania many felt in their hards has lost its luster. It’s dulling.
Like the start of a cold, we started with denial. “Maybe he’s sending the plane back for Klentak and Kapler.” Then Jim Salisbury reported Middleton was on the plane, “Well… he probably made a good impression”. Lump in the throat. In the four days that have followed, we’ve succumbed to the illness. We’ve awoken with that 300 lb. weight imploring us to stay in bed, as if to stay away from the news and the most recent “reports” from Mo Rocca Jon Heyman. We’ve fought with friends and loved ones when the Dodgers reportedly came back into the picture. Your uncle said, “JUST SHOW HIM THE MONEY! GET IT DONE!” Then this report came out:
You’ve had that doubt lurking in the back of your mind, and now it’s whispering in your ear, “Maybe he never wanted Philly…” You listened to music to drown out the doubt. Then this, after the jump:
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