The J & P Show at Nationals Park

Patrick and I knew scoring tix to the season opener at the brand new Nationals Park in DC would be a long shot. So, naturally, we didn't. Them shits went like hoecakes at a John Witherspoon film festival.

So when Patrick called this past Friday and asked me if I wanted to accompany him to the Nats vs. Orioles exhibition game on the 29th (open only to season ticket holders and construction workers who toiled on the new park) my immediate reactions were, "Absolutely" and "Dude, how the hell?"

Turns out that Patrick's uncle Mike and his partner Dennis are Nats season ticket holders; they also live mere blocks from Nationals Park in Southeast DC. They had two extra tix and, one day before the game, contacted Patrick's mom to inquire about interest. Thus, the Friday morning phone call that jarred me out of my persistent AM sleepies.

'Bout 2 PM on game day, Patrick and I hopped on the Glenmont Metro stop. Usually when we patronize those carpeted shuttles, our final destination is Verizon Center, and we stop at Gallery Place-Chinatown. This time, Gallery Place marked our transfer spot onto the Green line, final stop Navy Yard. This Navy Yard station has been expanded to accommodate Nationals crowds on game days, as it is located a mere half block from the stadium.

I tried to stifle my nerves by pointing out my increasing dialectic tendency to drop the "t"'s from the middle of certain words.

"Did you just hear me? I said we should have our vi'les before the game. I mean 'vittles.' Holy crap, I'm beginning to speak like my dad. I've even been dropping the 'v' in the middle o' words sometimes."

"Pretty soon you won't be saying either one at all. You'll try to say 'vittles' and it'll come out--"

"'i'les!" I finished, in mock horror. Such exchanges loosened us up considerably.

Nothing could really prepare us, though, for the sight that awaited our lens-assisted eyes when we made the turn out of the station. "Look how close it is!" a young guy behind us exclaimed (hopefully to a companion).


(Click on this and all pics to see them at full-size)


With at least one hour to spare before Dennis and Mike arrived, we took out our cameras and started walking counter-clockwise 'round the new ballpark. Different entrances and suites dotted the side, with the most impressive sights saved for the rear "home plate entrance".

This is, as so dubbed by me and the kid 'Trick, "Nats Walk", numbers embedded into the concrete representing special years in the history of the franchise. Over to the right of each year are mini-monuments that explain the significance of each year. The cherry blossoms are not yet in bloom, so the site currently isn't at its peak for sheer inspiration of awe. When the trees do fill out in magnificent pink and white and perfume the air, it will increase the appeal of not only this entrance, but also the area behind the left field bleachers where they have been planted. (Nats prez Stan Kasten hopes that announcers and fans will take to calling Washington homers hit to that part of the park--get ready--"cherry bombs". Eh! Just play "Cherry Bomb" by the Runaways after each ding and everybody'll be happy. Except Joan Jett.)

The sun was out, but not exactly about. A persistent breeze reminded us it was still March, though a fair heat was whipped up by the cumulative bustle of workers, security and fans.

With our minds summarily blown by the exterior of Nationals Park, we waited and wondered about what awaited us once we passed through the gates. Our seats were in Section 109, along the third base line, and up high underneath the mezzanine. We thought this would be a great place to see a game. We were quickly proven incorrect, when we looked at the directory and saw that Ben's Chili Bowl was located directly behind Section 109.

Officially, Section 109 of Nationals Ballpark is now known for all times as "Greatest Place To See a Baseball Game in the History of the Sport".


President Bush will be throwing out the first pitch at the "real" first game today. His batterymate will be Nats manager Manny Acta. That's mega odd, man; normally, the home team catcher would be on the receiving end of an executive toss. I wonder if this bucking of tradition has anything to do with the fact that Nats catcher Paul Lo Duca was a recurring star of the Mitchell Report. Gee, surely not!

“Myself and the Lerner family thought it would be appropriate to represent our team and the youth of our team,” Kasten said. “Ryan Zimmerman would be a good person to accompany the president, and our leader, our manager, Manny Acta. Those choices seemed obvious to us. Those have always been our choices. Anyone else who had different thoughts was just misinformed.”

I smell shenanigans!

At 4 o'clock--two hours before the first pitch of the game--the Navy Yard metro station began to vomit passengers. Thousands of fans young and old, all sizes, all colors, all languages, all manner of official and unofficial team merchandise worn proudly, made a sea of red white and blue as they marched up to the entrance where Patrick and I stood, watching in a semi-amazement.

"That's gonna be hell getting back on that metro", I noted.

Patrick suggested I call my mother to tell her where I was at that moment, that while she laid around on the couch watching an NCAA tournament that she could barely muster up any enthusiasm for now that her precious "Dukies" were long gone, her youngest stood outside potentially the greatest ballpark in all of Major League Baseball. I did, but my bemusement at the situation was evident when Patrick decided to capture the moment for personal posterity.

4:30, Mike and Dennis arrived and we finally went in. We found our seats...sort of. This was a bit of an ongoing absurdist comedy all night, "the deal with the seats", as it is destined to be known in J & P lore.

The season tix that Mike and Dennis own are for four seats in Section 109. As Mike needs a scooter to move around, the seats are behind and along the railing above the standard crammed row of seats in the section, to accommodate the handicapped. At least, seats 1 and 4 are. Where seats 2 and 3 would be were...just space. Inquiries to an employee resulted in conversations that left me with a distinct feeling that Joseph Heller's ghost was floating 'round.

Oh, the space between seats, we'll have folding chairs. We don't have them ready right now, still getting things together. But we'll have it together for the season opener. Definitely. The row of seats down in front of you, you can use those too. Sure sure.

I was Seat 3; Patrick, Seat 4. Cool cool, let's sit the hell down! Um...wait a minute. Why don't seats 4-8 have any actual, um, seats?

They have backs. Armrests, oh absolutely. But a place to actually sit, no. I'd recommend a redressing of this situation, posthaste.

Before the game started, two more incidents occurred. In the first, an older couple stopped by our row. They were seats 7 and 8. The employee--who throughout this whole baffle remained admirably non-flustered--told them to take seats 7 and 8 in the next row down. Seats that they thankfully were not challenged for.

Next, a younger couple in non-matching Nats caps dropped by to say hi. Seats 3 and 4. Hey, just like me and Patrick! Let's get together sometime and go shopping at White Flint. Well, I know I'd be Peavy amped if I came to a game with my official season ticket and found some tag along bummos filling my seats to capacity. But a few factors weighed in our favor: we were there first (never underestimate it), the employee told us we could sit there, and it's only an exhibition game. The neatly-attired couple were placed in two seats near Mike and Dennis and this apparently satiated them. At least they'll get their due seats tonight. Well, one of them will.

There was only one other hitch in an otherwise grand opening, one that surely they had to foresee but were just powerless to contain. The massive lines at Ben's Chili Bowl.

Ben's is a DC landmark that is celebrating its 50th anniversary by expanding outside of its U Street location for the first time ever. While the beloved Five Guys is eagerly chaining up and down the East Coast, Ben's has stayed resolutely a DC sensation. News that it was going to set up shop in the new ballpark made for a pretty huge deal. Dilution or continuation of the incredible menu? Would it really be worth paying ballpark prices?

First night impressions suggest that misgivings are for morons. Neither I or Patrick had ever eaten Ben's food before, despite the constant temptation. All we knew was the district buzz: their chili was otherworldly, and their half-smokes galactically good. Bill Cosby from the 1960s to present day is a devoted customer, and pretty much every celebrity who steps foot in the capital has gone there. We could resist no longer.

Patrick couldn't help but take shots while in line.






To insure quality control, a Ben's employee will be on hand in the kitchen at every home game. Tonight, the man watching over the proceedings was none other than Kamal Ali, son of founder Ben Ali.




Heaven is a half-smoke. Why did we wait so long to try these? For those of you unfamiliar with the half-smoke, it's a type of sausage found in DC and surrounding regions. It's a li'l bigger than the average hot dog, and has a bit more kick to it. Some are part beef, part pork; Ben's are all beef, and 100% delicious. Both of us, after just one bite into our respective 'smokes, were wishing they came in pairs per order. The combination of spices from sausage and condiments is perfection. Patrick didn't think he could handle another, but wouldn't rule out the possibility of getting a seven buck chili bowl later on during the game.

Okay, I just went over the two relatively minor issues with the ballpark. Now let's get into why this is the most impressive, entertaining, beautiful place to play nine in America, tendency to play "We Built This City" over the sound system aside.







The scoreboard is nearly 4,500 square feet, nearly four times the size of the one at RFK stadium.





Tonight, on a very special Blossom...start blooming, damnit!

Baseball is a sport that so very much needs the area surrounding the field of play to be aesthetically pleasing and engaging. Some may smirk at the PS3 kiosk and play area for kids, but those people clearly aren't parents. Unlike hockey, where fans would injure a mobile vendor in the aisles, baseball doesn't need your constant attention. Any place that makes a fan comfortable being a fan, to enjoy the game at their leisure, to watch a half-inning from behind a concourse railing, to proudly spend a little too much money on shirts and hats...that's a successful place to play baseball.

Many minutes spent thanking various dignitaries for their efforts in bringing this new stadium to the capital. Someone said it was a "miracle". I forget who. Someone prone to hyperbole. They all looked like suits and ties to me after awhile. The mayor was there, to throw out the "not really" first pitch. A big-ass ribbon was cut. Cheers, as people began to slowly realize the back-slapping was over.

So finally...baseball! Yeah I almost forgot they like played the game and shit.

On the matter of this Washington Nationals team: yes, an above-.500 record would be delightful. Possible? Anything's possible. Except turning a popsicle into a diamond just by staring at it. I learned a long time ago how not possible that is. But look at the fellas out there on the field.

Ryan Zimmerman, the only player on either roster that night among the elite players at his position.

Elijah Dukes out in left...funny, I have the "3 or 4" option picked in the "How Many Triflin'-Ass Bitches Will Elijah Dukes Impregnate This Season?" pool at my job.




The Nats have an Orr wearing number 4. We're gonna win the Stanley Cup in 3 years, tops.

Patrick actually had the wherewithal to take snaps of the starting lineup as the graphics appeared on that beauty of a scoreboard. Pretty ingenious of the ol' boy.

Nice that AL rules were used in an NL ballpark, allowing Dmitri Young to bat as a DH. That certainly means Nick Johnson will be starting at first.

Overall this isn't a bad lineup, not at all. It's the pitching that scares me. There's nothing there. No proven staff ace, hell, I'm not even sure we have a hurler that could be in another team's top 3. If the pitching reveals itself to be stronger than suspected this year, then I'd say Washington could contend in the division. But let the arms underwhelm, and well, it'll be a repeat of last year.

That said, we will finish with a better record than the Orioles who ended up losing to the Nats 3-0 and who are, in fact, trash. Stinking trash in black and orange bags with feathers peeking over the twist-tie Their squad is--aging Melvin Mora, Kevin Millar, and a bunch of never'll-be's. During the game, me and Patrick ragged the O's something relentless, culminating in what I imagine will be a season-defining exclamation for Baltimore fans: "Who the hell is Luke Scott?" (Answer: a weak-swinging, Glock-wielding Christian.) What bummy trash.






I tell you, I have never seen a greater clash of the ravishingly beautiful with the devastatingly ugly! Well, maybe this picture comes close.

Look out, it's personal photos.






(The "DC" design is still superior in my eyes to the "W" though, and no, that's not because I hate Bush. Though I do.)

Ok, welcome back. LOOK AT THE SCOREBOARD!



Only drawback is it adds 10 pounds.



Patrick wanted to start up a "Meat Hook" chant during Dmitri Young's plate appearances. I threatened to break up with him.

What we really came to see was...Presidents Race!





Jefferson won. Which means 6 more weeks of winter.

T'was not long after this historic running of the former CIC's that Patrick decided to chance a return trip to Ben's. "You'll be lucky to make it back for the end o' the game", I told him.

He didn't. The last two innings went by quickly, almost hilariously so, putting the game in at under 2 hours and 45 minutes. I said goodbye and thank you to Dennis and Mike as they headed out and awaited Patrick by the line at Ben's. It took several minutes until he located me.

"Where's the chili?"

"They were out."

I let out a half-gasp half-laugh. "Are you serious? That's it, we'll stop by Ben's on the way home if you want." He chuckled it off, thankfully, although he admitted that his humor would not have been so good if not for the previous half-smoke and beers well churning in his system. He also managed to snap a shot of the Presidents as they walked the concourse.

The Navy Yard Metro was, indeed, a friggin' nightmare. Thousands of people were lined up at the station. Luckily, a sign was up indicating the Waterfront Station further to the left. We joined a smaller group that decided to hoof it a half mile to that less-congested metro stop. It was a fortuitious decision on our part, as we arrived at Glenmont by 9:30. Nice!

Would be fantastic if Mike and Dennis toss some freebies our way again soon; however, we are definitely going to lay down bucks for tix this year, probably during a series with the Mets. There's too much going on with the venue, in every capacity, to stay away. Walking around Nationals Park is such a fresh experience, with sights, sounds and smells that tantalize top to bottom and I really want the team to live up to the promise of the park in which they play. I want visiting teams fans to not only come and be wowed by the Nationals home, but to walk away acknowledging that the club is worthy of the digs. Throw ya W's up.


MLB Washington Nationals Nationals Ballpark