And thus did Halloween 2012 become a pastiche of the previous six months of Bryce Harper’s young life.

The shirt represents his bond with Under Armour, one of the few major sponsors of a career thus far focused more on performance than perception. And yet with the loud clown homage — first in words, then in accessories — Harper also references his knack for the catchphrase, his nose for the news, his domination of headlines and highlights.

The socks — RGIII-model Adidas specials — represent his link to the burgeoning spirit of freshness and hope in D.C. sports, a break from the past, a show of youthful bravado and cross-sport unity.

The exaggerated bowtie represents the outsize expectations forever hanging off his shoulders, expectations that he here comically shrugs off with rainbow splashes of innocence.

The full-body Spandex is a clear nod to the fans of D.C, including those several who have adopted the nationwide Spandex craze, because Harper is of them and for them, his flesh melting into theirs.

The hair is for the bloggers, those circling sharks of heartless SEO, pouncing on every faux hawk and faux mullet, every faux rat tail and faux stache, turning his very follicles into a commodity of pixels, a pixodity, strands of code wrapped around strands of hair, wrapping, wrapping in the 21st century breeze.

The nose and glasses are to look funny.

Man, I gotta go to sleep.

And no, there is no independent verification that this is actually Harper, but the Twitter accounts of him and his brother strongly suggested it.

(First blogged by everyone else, who apparently weren’t playing soccer against 5-year old kids dressed like Spider-Man all night.)