Washington Nationals: Memorial Day Musings from D.C.

This past Memorial Day, three cars cut me off in a 20-minute span on the D.C. Beltway.  I spewed F, D, B, C, S, and A bombs with no reserve.

After walking through the turnstiles of Nationals Park and taking a tour of the stadium, I noted only one touch of personality, the patriotic bunting hung from the upper decks.

I managed to weave through crowds without anything from Ben’s Chili Bowl or any of the other eateries being spilled on me as I found my seat along the third base line.

Waiting for the game to begin, I watched as a middle-aged man pushed his way through some Milwaukee Brewers fans, the Nationals opponent that day, and announced his displeasure about sitting next to these foreigners before pledging his allegiance to the Yankees.

Even though the game had started, I could see only what now seemed like a zoo. Grown men attacked foul balls without regard to the children sitting next to them. People downed beer with reckless abandon. It was 40,000 people exposing their id.

With the game moving slowly and mediocre ball being played, I wondered if I should head home. When the Brewers put up six runs in the sixth inning to put the game in doubt, I decided to stay longer.

Just before the eighth inning, the video board showed a picture of four wheelchair-bound veterans in attendance. Immediately, the largest cheer of the day erupted from all corners of the stadium. A good portion of the fans stood and applauded these men and women for their individual work and for being symbols of their active and inactive peers.

The standing ovation is a symbolic salute for these wounded warriors and their co-workers who have paid a dearer price because they will never again be able to rise to their feet.

They did not choose to protect the inconsiderate individual but to preserve the ideals and freedoms of this nation.

I sat through the rest of the game and enjoyed the competition of the athletes. But the game’s outcome, the actions of the players, and the behavior of the fans lost their significance—in the harsh light of what these veterans gave up so that we could enjoy freedoms such as watching a baseball day in the warm sun.