Hold The Schmalz

We came not to praise it. Nor bury it. But mostly to soak up the sun for one last time, eating overpriced concessions (while hopefully avoiding e. coli), and to see some of our friends one last time before the weather turns.

I'm one of those transplants, one of those people who don't actually live here so much as occupy some of its space. I wasn't one of those who had my childhood ripped away from me by a racist, then a cheap businessman. I'm just a schmuck who lived here, ventured up occasionally to Baltimore a few times a year to root for whoever was playing the O's, then was relieved to finally have a team closer. Sure, I've adopted them as my own, so much so that when the Nats played my previous team (rumored to be the Yankees), I didn't think twice about cheering for the guys in red and gold.

All that's a long way of saying that, to me, losing RFK doesn't mean a thing. It wasn't something to celebrate, to weep for or to really care one way or another. It was a giant concrete dome with crappy services, dank hallways and corridors that made you want to continuously look over your shoulder to see who was stalking you from behind.

Oh, today's game had some melancholy, but it wasn't for the dump. It was for the team on the field, the team I'm seeing for the last time this season, the team that's somehow surpassing expectations even though 1) they're not good, and 2) they've got about the same record I thought they would. No, that doesn't really make sense, but that's the way it is.

I can't say there's a really likable player on the team. Zimmerman's obviously the 'star', but he's had a so-so season, and every time I've seen him interviewed, it's obvious that he's been to the Nick Johnson school of personality. Some like Dmitri, and he's a fun personality, but I've got my reasons for not wanting to root for the guy. Kearns? Meh. Lopez? pass. It's just a bunch of low-level jerks, mediocrities or paste-eaters.

Yet, the whole is greater than the sum of their parts. They're a likable lot, even as the individuals stink. They play hard and look like they're giving effort, and that's what we've all fallen for.

I usually mock the idiots behind third base for applauding anytime any pitcher manages to walk off the mound without tripping. But today those applause felt right.

Days like today, when the barn is packed, and when the cows are mooing, it's a good time. The claps, chants, cheers, boos, they all add to the total ballpark experience, something that's really been lacking since about mid-July '05. It's something I've missed.

It'll come more with winning. And it'll come with crowds that are consistently larger, as the new stadium should provide, at least for the first year. But it'll depend on what the bums on the field are doing.

If they're giving us a performance like today, we'll be plenty loud.

But I'm not weeping for the stadium. I'm not weeping for the ballplayers of my youth, parading on the field where they once lost so many games. I was smiling with my friends (when not drinking their mojitos), clapping with the hits, and keeping score for the first time since Jason Simontacchi's outing against the Tigers broke my will to live. So no tears. But just a sadness that that's the last time I'll see these guys for six months.

At least we have six games left. Enjoy them and appreciate them while you can.