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Time To Declare A Moratorium On Bryce Harper-Bashing

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As you go about your business on this lovely Valentine's Day, pause for a moment to ask yourself this: What were you doing at age 19? What were you like? What did you want to be? Whatever your answer is, keep that in mind when you read this column by Jason Reid about Bryce Harper. If you don't want to give the Post the clicks, I've pulled out the most egregious examples for your pleasure, complete with my own commentary.

While stopping short of comparing himself favorably with Hall of Fame quarterback Joe Namath, Harper made it known he aspires to follow Namath’s iconic model.

You mean enjoy a Hall of Fame, championship-winning career while dating the 21st century versions of Raquel Welch and Ann-Margaret (whoever those may be)? He's clearly been possessed by a wizard alien.

Other than the Nationals, it seems, he’s not very interested in the D.C. sports market. And then there was his decision last season to blow a kiss at a pitcher after hitting a home run in a Class A game.

One of these things demonstrates poor judgement. The other is a total irrelevance. I'll leave you to decide which is which. (Hint: the first one is a total irrelevance.)

There's also a lot of boilerplate stuff from Mike Rizzo about how the Nats are always keeping an eye on Harper and that he'll be in the big leagues only when he's ready.

Look, whenever Harper does come up to the big club, he'll have marked himself out for The Treatment by virtue of the hype that's surrounded him. The last thing he needs on top of that is a bunch of rubes calling him out for being a Lakers fan (A kid from Vegas liking the Lakers? No s**t) or local radio guys calling him a "douche" for reasons which, frankly, still escape me.

I'll save my condemnations and finger-wagging until Harper gets caught driving drunk or assaulting people or dwarf-tossing. Until then, I'm declaring a moratorium on Bryce-bashing. Join me.