Go to the Globe and Mail homepage

Jump to main navigationJump to main content

Entry archive:

The death and rebirth of baseball Add to ...

On the bus to Washington, D.C. Sunday morning, a Nationals game the next stop on #TBRTOAL, I couldn't help but think of the deceased Montreal Expos. On September 29, 2004, Les Expos played their final baseball game in the beautiful city of Montreal, a 9-1 defeat at Olympic Stadium. On October 4, they were no more. History. All that remained was an empty ballpark, memories, and an orphaned Youppi. And only Youppi's story would have a happy ending: the Montreal Canadiens so graciously adopting him.

Staring out the window, watching America go by, I tried to wear the shoes of the rabid Expos fan. The one who loved his team when most of his city, it seemed, didn't, and who to this day harbours tremendous bitterness over the happenings of 1994 and 2004. And try as I might, I realized I'll never know what it feels like to have my baseball team taken away from me. It's something I can't relate to unless or, God forbid, until I go through it.

But that didn't stop my mind from racing. I imagined Major League Baseball taking control of the Toronto Blue Jays; Bud Selig now running the team. Kansas City, Missouri would be their new home. What's that? Kansas City has a baseball team? In the Majors?

Wow; who knew? Fine: Charlotte, North Carolina would be the Blue Jays' new home. And I had a few months to say goodbye. I wondered how I'd react, and what I'd do. Organize protests, and go door-to-door with a petition? Or silently accept my fate; take up my favourite seat behind home plate in section 524 of the Rogers Centre, and watch my team slip away, knowing that I was helpless against MLB's suits. The answer: other than to make every drink a double, I'm not sure what I would do. And I hope to never find out.

After I'd finally finished weeping, having convinced myself the Blue Jays were not actually moving to Charlotte, and as the bus pulled up to its stop in downtown D.C., one final thought crossed my mind: Toronto can't let Montreal's death have been in vain. Rest in peace, Les Expos.

Nationals Park

Having arrived in D.C. a bit later than scheduled, I hopped into a cab. "To Nationals Park!" I didn't actually say that, but I was certainly thinking it. From the downtown area -- our bus stop was a parking lot near the Washington Convention Center -- a cab will run you about $10, depending on your tipping etiquette.

Nationals Park sits southeast from the National Mall and Capitol Building, just off I-395, in an area currently still being developed. Navy Yard is your nearest subway station, and new condos have just come up, with others on their way. Before the game, "The Bullpen," an outdoor bar on an abandoned construction site across from the main centre field gate at Nationals Park, is really your only eating and/or drinking option. Monopoly! Available is your standard fare -- beer and hot dogs -- and you can partake in some bean bag toss, or try your luck on the pitching radar. I hit 66 MPH on the gun, making it official: my dream of a Major League pitching career is, like the Montreal Expos, dead.

Depressed, I staggered to the box office, where a pleasant Nationals employee brightened my mood with an offer of a seat in the right field grandstands for only $5; the game-day special. Bless you, Washington Nationals.

The ballpark is your standard, new open-air stadium. It doesn't stand out; I wouldn't say there's anything absolutely super or special about it, but it more than does the job. Great sightlines, a restaurant/bar, "Red Porch Food and Spirits," with lovely patio seating in left-centre field, a massive scoreboard in right field, a family picnic area in the main concourse, and everything you could ever desire to eat at a baseball game. Including ribs and rotisserie chicken. But, really, who the hell is eating ribs and rotisserie chicken at a baseball game?

I know what you're thinking: how much does the beer cost? And I'm going to tell you: $8, draft and bottle, and $8.75 for a premium can. Your microbrews on tap are Old Dominion Ale, an American pale ale, and Home Run Ale, a red ale I learned comes from Leinenkugel's 10th Street Brewery in Milwaukee. Trust me, Home Run's the one you want.

What is different about the Nationals Park experience is seeing mascots depicting former U.S. Presidents running around the stadium. I don't know what meeting he was late for, but I caught George Washington in a dead sprint during the 7th inning, and came face-to-face with none other than Abraham Lincoln.

Guilt-Free Baseball

One of the first questions I asked the few Nationals fans I spoke to was: "Do you feel bad for Montreal's baseball fans?" They all unflinchingly responded "No." And they're right; why should they feel bad? Watching professional sports, and rooting for your favourite team, is all done guilt free. That's the beauty of fandom. Montreal, and what happened to its baseball team, isn't the concern of the average Nationals fan. And it shouldn't be; it wouldn't be mine.

Single page

Follow us on Twitter: @Globe_Sports

 

In the know

Most popular video »

Highlights

More from The Globe and Mail

Most Popular Stories