On his 23rd birthday, celebrate the awe-inspiring power of Kyle Schwarber's dingers

Dear Kyle,
First thing's first: Happy birthday! It's hard to believe you're just turning 23. You've had a pretty big year, after all: Rather than job hunting and poaching your parents' HBO account, you were sending baseballs to parts unknown and doing your finest Babe Ruth impression.

So it seemed only fitting that we mark this occasion with an ode of sorts -- an ode to your jaw-dropping dingers, to be precise. We hardly even knew you, and you were already holding an Ohio homecoming party by launching balls into orbit:

You treated ballparks like sandboxes, and baseball bats like toothpicks:

Then along came Postseason Schwarber, and neither ballpark nor laser graphics technology had a chance:

Now that you're no longer feeling 22, what could you possibly hold in store for an encore? Home runs that break the sound barrier? Home runs that master interstellar travel? Alas, if Spring Training is any indication, you have something far more sinister planned: An assault on motor vehicles.

Help us, first base, you're our only hope.