I played video games a lot when I was younger.

Most of them were sports games, and every now and then and I’d sprinkle in some Halo or Max Payne (a game only made more alluring by the protagonist’s shared first name).

But no game has received more hours of my dedication than MVP Baseball 2005. I won’t go into why the game is still the best baseball video game ever made, but I still own an old XBOX and a copy of the game just to play it again from time to time, rather than play new versions of other games.

Now, if you know me, you can only sort of see me playing video games. I read and write a lot, and there’s not a whole lot of time for anything else in my daily routine. And for the most part, video games bore me because they lack the narrative that stories possess.

So when I would get burnt out on basic game play on MVP, I would create my own running narrative in my head. The story was always the same. I would create a super player, one with skills unrivaled by any of the ratings on the game. I would then play a career with that one player. This player, in my head, would have been different in real life, not only in his skill set, but in his behavior. He would be the greatest player to ever step on a baseball diamond, but he would also be more brash, more loud, more determined. He would make Ted Williams (one of the most arrogant players of all time) seem quiet and humble. I thought it would be riveting to see a player so talented be so sure of his abilities, so disenfranchised by mortals. He would predict lopsided victories, guarantee home runs and scoff at the notion that other players on other teams were worth a damn.

This is why I love Bryce Harper. He is becoming that player I always created in my head. When the national media recoiled in horror as he blew a post-home run kiss to a pitcher who had mouthed off to him, I found it wildly amusing. I wished he had done more. As someone nicknamed ‘Maximus’ by his closest friends and who watched ‘Gladiator’ come out during high school, Harper is that protagonist that is difficult to embrace fully because of who he is and what he does and how he does it. He can’t be hated like LeBron because LeBron is somewhat oblivious to the public’s perception of him. He’s hated because he knows what he is and will take your worst. He’s almost daring you with his audacity.

But he is my favorite sports personality in a long time because I can envision a day when he hits three bombs in front of a desensitized Washington Nationals crowd, one that’s too used to the ease at which he dominates the game, and as he steps on home plate for the final time, stops and looks into the sea of people and shouts with both frustration and showmanship, “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!”

They won’t be (they might even be horrified). But I sure as hell will.

The 18-year old went 0-for-4 in last night’s Futures Game, but I didn’t care. He fired a laser from deep left field to home and seemed disgusted at his personal effort. He’s still just a pup. But I’m sure it won’t be long before I’m watching way more Nationals games than I ever thought I would.