As my mother, father, and I pulled into the Washington Nationals spring training complex in Viera, Florida last weekend to watch the Nats play an exhibition game against the Cardinals, I couldn't help but notice how quaint and approachable their practice facilities were. It had nothing more than two simple diamonds and a small square building next to a little stadium. I’m not sure what I expected, but I've seen high school facilities that were more extravagant. I’ve been a baseball fan since I started forming memories, and this was baseball paradise. From when we started walking from our car, joining a stream of red-clad Nats fans, everything I saw made me feel warm and fuzzy. “Welcome home, Nats!” read a sign posted against the fence of the practice fields. A cool breeze cut through the moist air.
A couple of cheery old ladies in Nats gear took our tickets at the ballpark gate. I imagined they were retirees from DC who live nearby and pick up a little extra money every March helping staff Nats games. Pretty sweet life.
Our seats were thirty or so rows behind home plate. The stadium seated about 6,000 people and there were no outfield bleachers. As I sipped a cool Yuengling and watched the Cardinals take batting practice, the rhythm of the crack of the bat followed by the ball jumping out into the sky was hypnotizing.
After a few minutes we wandered over and joined the small crowd forming on the platform overlooking the bullpen, where Stephen Strasburg was going to be warming up in thirty minutes. We passed the time chatting with surrounding fans about the upcoming season. Everyone was cheerful, and everyone knew a lot about the Nats. It felt like a family gathering of Nats fans, far beyond what you can experience at Nationals Park up in DC during the regular season, where all manner of casual observers and out-of-towners are in attendance.
Soon we saw Bryce Harper walk over to the batting cage wearing big shiny gold headphones, and laughed together that it was as if Lil Wayne played on our baseball team. Then Wilson Ramos come through the door underneath the platform and jogged out into the outfield to stretch his hamstrings. We fans hoped aloud that he wouldn’t re-injure them. Ramos is a huge human being -- we were so close to him that I got that feeling you get at the zoo where you see a tiger up close and realize just how big they are in person.
The game began a little later. After a scoreless first, Strasburg got into trouble in the second, walking three and failing to get an out on a ground ball to Ryan Zimmerman because he failed to cover first base. All the other fans in the section grumbled about his fragile ego. A few of them yelled. But nobody really cared, because the sun was starting to shine, it was 66 degrees, and the game didn’t count, anyway. We didn’t come to spring training to be upset; we came to hang out in the sun and enjoy the game.
Some people a few rows in front of us saw friends of theirs on the walkway below, and yelled for them to come up to our section and sit for a while. As they did, I thought about all the ushers at real big league parks who are always telling people that they can't stand right there and preventing them from going into sections where they don’t have tickets.
Major League Baseball is great, but like so many nice things in mainstream American life, it’s been corporatized. There are rules about everything, and it’s expensive. People go there to be seen or because it’s a cool thing to do. Spring training only had people who love the game and love their team and that’s it.
As I write this, I’m thinking about that sign that said, “Welcome Home, Nats!” Today was about enjoying spring weather chatting about covering first base and making good throws and other nonsense, watching a bunch of overgrown boys hang out and play ball on an unpretentious patch of grass and dirt. And I’m thinking, maybe this is home. Maybe this is where the true spirit and practice of baseball is nurtured, only to be exported to major cities from April to October.
I've heard this before, and now I'll say it myself: any true baseball fan needs to come to spring training. I’m definitely coming back.