If you read Bob Nightengale’s USA Today piece from earlier this week (and Joy on Broad’s sterling write-up on this site), you’re left with only one viable conclusion. Dear God, Bryce Harper, one of the best players in all of baseball, has NO OTHER CHOICE but to sign with your Philadelphia Phillies.
My God. Can you imagine it? His wavy locks flowing in the humid air on an August night as he tracks down a screaming line drive at the warning track, making a 10-point catch to cap off a wondrous 3 for 4 evening at the plate that saw him CRUSH his 30th home run of the season to put the Phillies 20 games above .500 and give them a comfortable five game lead in the NL East.
He’d give the ladies in the right field section his signature wink as he leaves the field, instantly soaking every pair of panties from row 1 to 50. He’d underhand toss the ball to a blind boy in the stands, miraculously curing him after medical science was nothing but a dead end for the young wretch, Harper’s fifth such miracle on the season.
The Phillies are the only logical franchise to sign Harper. They want Harper. They can afford Harper (and more importantly, overpay for Harper). Harper has every reason in the world to sign with the Phillies. Nightengale even guaranteed it:
He will be standing in right field with the Phillies on March 28 at Citizens Bank Park when they open the season against the defending NL East champion Atlanta Braves.
Bank on it.
But in the words of Winston “The Wolf” Wolfe from Pulp Fiction, “Well, let’s not start sucking each other’s dicks quite yet.”
Logic and reason have no place within these city boundaries.