From the beginning of one round-ish year to the verge of the next, arbitrary as that may be within the boundaries of whatever Pope Gregory XIII had in mind beyond solstices and equinoxes and his own teams of the era (the plague had just had another good run), a baseball decade closes in a wintry storm of back-legged offenses, labor grouses and Scott Boras platitudes. Didn't Bryce Harper just get drafted? Didn't the San Francisco Giants just win their first World Series in forever?