People think it’s so hard to be beloved around here, but it’s not. You have a few options: Become a world champion, hurt yourself, hurt someone else, or choose us over anyone. We’re a simple people requiring one or more of those things, as well as endless praising of us for the rest of your life, and you’re in. “You’ll never pay for a beer in this town again,” we say, although you most certainly will, as anyone swearing that is more likely to break down how you could improve your latest on-field performance than to actually pick up a round after running into you in public.
Somebody gave Bryce Harper the book on Philadelphia
