*Derek does, indeed, have super cyborg laser eyes that can tell what pitch is coming, its speed, and its location. It's not recognizable to the naked eye, but if you spend enough time
See that look on Bryce's face? That's the "Whoa, shit goddamn, man!" look. He gets it around DeNo, Ryan Zimmerman, and when he's watching CMT's Biggest Redneck Wedding Ever. (What? He's not a redneck? Shiiiittt, did you even look at that link above about his hoopty? )
So, what happened last night? Well, Bryce did... okay (2-3 2 1B, 1 BB) but DeNo put an absolute ass whipping on the opponent, the Erie SeaWolves. (The what? SeaWolves? I ain't never seen any wolves swimming around in the sea, but... fucking whatever, man.) Derek went 3-4 w/2 HR, 1 2b, and a walk. That is called raking, my friends. And Derek raked till he couldn't rake no more. That'll do, DeNo. That'll do.
(There's also another argument going around that the Nationals didn't want Bryce to play for Potomac because of their field conditions. Apparently the outfield is a swamp that has alligators in it that eats outfielder's legs and shit. Or something. All I know is that it doesn't drain very well, and since it's rained quite a bit lately, the field is often unplayable. If this is the scenario that really happened, well then... Bryce Harper turned to his friend from above for some help.
(Hooray, I'm posting old blog gimmicks again! Do you know where the above picture is from? You don't? Well, then, hooray for today! You're truly lucky, I must say! Click here and waste your time away!)
Sorry about that rhyming above. This is what happens when you have a one-year-old that wants you to read her Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb a gajillion times in a row. I love her to death, but if I recite "Dum Ditty, Dum Ditty, Dum Dum Dum" a few more times, I'm going to snap the next time I hear a drummer. Some poor kid playing some buckets outside the Navy Yard metro station after a Nats game is going to have a skinny white guy attack him like Dmitri Young going after the last bag of Chips Ahoy! in his house. It won;t be pretty, my friends.