You may be confused as to why everyone’s talking about this Phillies-Nationals game tonight. Let’s clear things up.
Bryce Harper rode into town on a unicorn stallion, goring anyone in an Eagles sweatshirt.
“Hello, Bryce!” the Philadelphia media greeted him. “How are you adjusting to theKYAAAARRRGGHH.” They too were gored.
He then dismounted and sprinted from City Hall down the to Sports Complex, kicking all of the accommodating citizens of Philadelphia out of the way as they were making polite, rational phone calls to local sports radio shows.
Cole Hamels, meanwhile, was coming in from a bullpen session and putting the finishing touches on a picnic table for his kids. “Cole, how are you preparing to face Bryce Harper tonight?” the media asked.
“Oh, you know,” Cole said. “Just the usual.”
“EVERYONE SUCK MY BALLS,” Harper said, barging into the clubhouse. His unruly steed snorted flames and set one of the beat writers’ hair on fire. He screamed and died.
“Please, sir. My kids are present,” Cole pleaded, but Harper would not silence himself. He went on a profane rant so unbelievably vile that several more people died. Then he blew kisses at everyone, per he personal custom, and smeared eye black all over everyone’s faces. Biologists would later explain this was his method of “marking” everyone, and that he considered them “his” now. He then whipped out a list of all Phillies players and what problems he had with each individual one, and then with the entire organization as a whole.
Cole Hamels realized it was up to him to make a statement against this monster. So you see it was out of necessary heroism that he hit Bryce Harper with a fastball in the back.
“What?’ you said, backing away from your computer and fixing your glasses like a real poindexter. “That last series was in Washington. Why would Harper ride his demon-icorn to Philadelphia? I have spotted a logistical error!”
You know who made a logistical error? Bryce Harper, when he turned that beat writer into a metaphor for the entire newspaper industry.
So buckle up. Tonight is going to one big, crazy thing.
UPDATE: Probably it wasn’t.