#bryce harper

The final round of the 2026 Home Run Derby is shaping up to be an even more electric sequel to 2018, with Schwarber going first and absolutely crushing his previous record. More than that, he ends up setting the new all-time record, beating Vladimir Guerrero Jr.’s 2019 total by 2 with a sudden barrage of Schwarbombs during his bonus time that has the entire city on their feet.

Bryce screams along with them, pulling his teammate into an embrace that’s equal parts excited baby shaking and proud, crushing bear hug.

“Holy shit, dude! How am I supposed to top that?”

“Hey, now you just need 999,907 total and then that’s not the only thing getting topped.”

“Man shut the fuck up! I’m gonna get 94 now, just watch.”

Bryce walks up for his for his own at bat, ignoring his fellow All Star’s receding jeers of “Come on, that won’t even get you over the pants stuff!” as he takes a breath and locks in.

The round goes incredibly well, and on his final swing, Harper does get to 94. And then 95. And then 96. As a reminder of the rules, a player who hits a home run on their final swing continues swinging until they fail to hit one out. Bryce continues swinging.

97. 98. 99. The crowd is losing their minds.

But as he hits his 100th home run, forever cementing his name in the annals of baseball history, Bryce Harper can tell that something is wrong.

After 175, an official approaches Bryce to ask what the hell is going on, only to be bodily stopped by an invisible forcefield. After 250, Bryce begs his father to stop pitching, and Ron Harper looks at his son, terrified, and tells him in a strained voice that he can’t.

The entire ballpark has been evacuated after 750. By the time he reaches 1500, the bizarre story has made every national news outlet. By 5000, it’s every international outlet as well.

10,000. 25,000. 50,000. They send medical professionals, scientists, the National Guard. No one can get near him, and Bryce cannot stop. He isn’t eating or sleeping or doing anything but ringing that damn bell over and over and over, but he’s still in peak athletic form. In fact, as one reporter writes, utterly bewildered, he’s never looked better.

100,000. 250,000. 500,000. No one can figure out where the balls are coming from, but they have to start sending ball boys in round-the-clock shifts to collect them from every corner of the park. Cherelle Parker loses her mayoral race to the first candidate to propose a way to fully reshape Philadelphia’s economy around Bryce Harper’s Home Run Derby curse.

750,000. 850,000. As Bryce Harper enters his 100th day of hitting dingers, the MLB enters a lockdown, but not for a reason anyone could have seen coming. Most players sign overseas in the meantime, but some retire outright, too unsettled and disillusioned with the sport. Shohei Ohtani was seen standing motionless on the perimeter of the forcefield on day 105, watching Bryce with an unreadable expression for 8 hours straight, even through a severe thunderstorm.

900,000. 950,000. After the immediate flurry of media attention in the days following the Home Run Derby, Kyle Schwarber had seemingly dropped off the face of the planet. No teammates, friends, or family could comment on his whereabouts, and there were almost no signs of life at all, except for a quiet but aggressive campaign launched by his legal representatives to remove every recorded instance of an interview from the day before the fated ballgame.

980,000. 990,000. Kyle hadn’t wanted to believe it at first. And then he spent every day trying to reverse the spell. And then he accepted his fate.

999,998. 999,999. As he steps back onto the field for the first time in 127 days, dirt crunching under his cleats, Kyle admits to himself that he missed this place. As he sees Bryce for the first time in 127 days—form still perfect, uniform pants still straining just right against his thighs—Kyle admits to himself that the ancient, cosmic yearning he’s felt since that stupid fucking interview did come from deep within Citizens Bank Park…but also from himself. The forcefield shimmers a familiar maroon as he steps inside.

The two men lock eyes as another perfectly placed pitch goes hurtling toward Bryce, and Kyle walks towards home. They take a breath in unison.