Be warned. This is another Nationals column. These days they're about as plentiful as District pedestrians donning blue or red baseball caps bearing the cursive W. (If the proliferation of columns and caps counts toward a team's future success, the city should plan the World Series parade now.)
But, unlike those other columns, where cheering the infectious spirit of Washington baseball (whatever that might be) is the focus, this one is grounded in reality.
The truth is, with the exception of tradition-rich cities like Boston, New York and Chicago, where games are always near sellouts, the Nats have fewer people in the stands per cap worn than any team in the country.
At every game besides the home opener, there have been at least 10,000 empty seats. While the second- and third-day crowds of around 35,000 are good numbers for most mid-market teams, can the same be said for a city that claims it's been starving for baseball for 34 years? With 22,000 season ticket-holders, the small walk-up crowd certainly doesn't signal true widespread community support.
But voice those concerns to a die-hard Nats fan - right now qualifying as a 'die-hard' means having seen three games in the stadium - and the excuses are pre-packaged.
"RFK is a dump with too few concessions and too many seats in the nosebleeds."
Or....
"This team is really going to take off when it's got new owners and a fancy downtown ballpark."
Or...
"Give it time. People will catch on, and then it's going to be huge."
Give it time?! Thirty-four years wasn't enough time?! If this is just the beginning, the baseball cap industry must be salivating.
The excuses don't add up, and they send a less-than-flattering message about Washington's fan base. Washingtonians want baseball so they can wear a cap to work just like their co-workers who are Yanks, Sox or Cubs fans. For them, baseball provides another opportunity for a family outing or business meeting. And, just maybe, baseball will provide an escape from the city's recent pro sports futility.
But did the majority of Washingtonians want baseball back because they loved and missed it like a dead relative, or because they thought, "It would be really cool to have a team?" Before you answer, ask yourself this. Would D.C. have a baseball team if the Redskins had even been a .500 team over the past decade?
If the yearning for a team had been deep and soulful, Washingtonians would've filled RFK for the better part of a year, not a series. That type of support, and not the purchase of a $15 cap at CVS, is how one really qualifies a baseball town.
Every successful sports franchise represents a segment of a region's culture. But what do the Nationals really represent? Surely, the most definitively American sport does not symbolize the city's cosmopolitan nature. Nor does it represent the city's large black population, which historically has found more chances for participation in basketball and football.
There is one segment of Washington culture these new Nationals may symbolize. With so many season ticket-holders paying mostly for expensive box seats, and with more missing out on box seats and then refusing to buy season tickets in the upper level, this team may connote the power of money in the district and the futility of passion. It's an encouraging message to send in the capital of what used to be the home of democracy.
The Washington Wizards played their first playoff game in eight years last night. Though they lost, if you ask around, I'm sure you'll find heaps of D.C. residents excited about the Wizards' success. But you're more likely to find them in a Nats cap than in a Wizards jersey.
That's too bad. But what goes around comes around. The fad of Nats fever won't last forever.
And don't be surprised if the most popular jersey in RFK in August is Lavar Arrington's No. 56. In Washington, the only thing better than expensive box seats are expensive nosebleeds.
