My first Nationals game this year was last night. We live just a few blocks away, and oftentimes watch the faithful, including our grandson, trekking over for those few hours of excitement. This is the third game in three years for me, and I have never seen Washington win, even though they are on top this year. Strasburg pitched his last home game, Teddy lost, and the game went into 10 innings. There were two real opportunities to beat the worst team in the division. It was a beautiful night - there's something odd about watching a baseball game in a winter coat, as has typically been the case in September. I used to write the sports column for our high school newspaper, we played the team from Florida, and our grandson was also in the stands somewhere along the third baseline. The strongest connection to this sport however, is that we grew up with it in our family. My brother was a southpaw, and was drafted by the Orioles out of high school. The best part of this evening was that I went with him, my sister in law, and my sister. We all live here now. It didn't really matter if they lost because that isn't the reason I went.
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