The scene: Nationals Park, afternoon game. Colleague Sondra and I had taken product intern Melanie and social media intern Ahmed to the game. We had planned on getting cheap seats. As we approached the ticket machine, a Nats staffer yelled through a gate not to buy them.

She had free tickets to give us! Lowers! A group with some no-shows had asked her to give the tickets away. We thanked her profusely.

The main event: Teddy took a lead in the outfield and was holding it…

… until, with maybe 30 feet to go, out of the stands came "Luke the Lobster," who body-slammed Teddy to the ground. Luke, apparently the mascot of the new Luke's Lobster, resembled a giant red bug.

Teddy stopped by our section later, along with the Geico gecko and T. Jefferson. Why a new business in town wanted to be tied to the city's longest losing streak was beyond me. Did I still plan to try Luke's? You bet. But a business that helped Teddy win? It would have me for life.

Why, hello. I didn't notice you there… It's good to be back, isn't it?

Back at the ballpark, at Navy Yard, on Half Street, around the crowds, near the grass and mascots, we gather to see one of the worst teams in baseball, our team, and root for improvement. Half springs eternal.

I've yet to miss a Nationals' Opening Day (or Night), and today there were lots of good reasons to celebrate. It was my dad's birthday, and my parents were there. Buddy Jeff had just landed a job, and he was there too. The threatened rain was mostly holding back. The potential snow had yet to show. The skies were gray and at moments nearing the black of Bryce Harper eye goop. But if — somewhere — Stephen Strasburg could slowly work the muscles of The Greatest Arm in the World back into shape, we could enjoy the day and its yearly firsts.

The first game. Balloons, fire trucks, flags, joyful milling about.

The first stadium embrace.

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… That's not just because Dave Shenin writes about rebar, which I find fascinating (really). Shenin, one of my favorite Post writers for a long time (and a Marah fan to boot), starts a Post Magazine story about Nats phenom Bryce Harper by writing about Harper's dad. Or Vegas, really.

The first thing you do is, you go over and grab one of those iron rods — rebar, it’s called — from the pile. It may weigh 50 pounds, maybe 80, maybe more. You throw it over your shoulder and hump it over to your crew. If it’s 115 degrees in Vegas that day, it’s probably 135 in the hole where you’re laboring, clad in heavy work clothes, building the foundation of another casino, feeding the great beast of the desert. You lay the rebar down just so, tie its ends with 16-gauge wire, and now it’s ready to be encased in concrete, one more grain of rice down the beast’s gullet. They say Las Vegas is a town of phoniness and illusion. Fake pyramids. Fake Manhattan skylines. Fake Eiffel towers. But Ron Harper, for 27 years a union card-holder in Reinforcing Ironworkers Local 416 — a “rodbuster,” as they call themselves — can tell you one thing: For every gaudy, phony facade in this Godforsaken town, a couple hundred men, some of them his men, bent their backs to send it up into the sky. Watch him get one of those monthly shots in his neck to ease his pain, and then tell him everything in Vegas is fake.

Read the full story here.

Last year, after two years of no St. Patrick's Day green merch, the Nats got two hats. I lauded the increase as a Stephen Strasburg effect. Like a successful potato, we were on our way up and out of the ground.

This year, after the sad Strasburg injury and surgery, we remained at two green things. A women's shirt and a women's hoodie were all we received. But the worse news? In the green merch, we finished dead last in the majors. We had never finished dead last and alone before.

In 2007, we got one hat, and eight teams got nothing. In 2008, we got nothing, but only 13 teams got something. In 2009, we got zero but so did four other teams. Last year, when the world was bright, with Stephen Strasburg nearing the hill, we beat 13 other teams.

But, boy, was it ugly this year.

The Red Sox got 48 green items. Then Yankees got 47, including this funky driver's cap. Beyond them, the rankings were: Phillies 40, Cubs 39, Cardinals 34, Mets 28, White Sox 24, Tigers 20, Twins 18, Dodgers 17, Braves 13, Brewers 12, Giants 11, Athletics 8, Indians 7, Astros 6, Mariners 6, Orioles 5, Angels 4, Blue Jays 4, Diamondbacks 4, Marlins 4, Padres 4, Pirates 4, Rays 4, Rockies 4, Royals 4, Rangers 3, Reds 3.

Nats 2.

From last week. Paused for the lights above the center field gate.

Cup of pretzel bites, salted, a cup of nacho cheese, and a hot dog.

With Matt back in town, he, Tom and I got tickets. Talked for innings. At one point, a Humberto batted. I said I wanted the name. We Googled.

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An event. An arrow! What event? Where were we?

Looks like a fancy meal to me. It's a shame that man arrived in shorts.

But wait! What kind of a fancy meal has lots of hot dogs and beer?

Answer: A LivingSocial all-you-can-eat-and-drink-and-tour Nats day.

The deal was $35, and I was determined to get my money's worth.

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Good-looking August we've got here. Join us as we step back in time.

After months of delays, dating back to even before her move to town, friend Melissa and I made it to the Nats. The hometown boys beat the Cards, 14-5. But this much was normal. Let us chronicle the oddness.

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Danny Espinosa is 23 and has been in the majors since Wednesday.

In his debut, he was 1-2 with a RBI double. In his second, he was 2-4 with a double, homer and two RBI. In his third, he was 2-5 with a RBI.

In his fourth game, today, he bobbled the first ball hit his way at short. Subsequently, he was 4-5 with: a solo homer, a fly-out to the warning track, a RBI single, a GRAND SLAM, a double, and ultra-smooth fielding. Even trivia a fan got to answer on the Diamond Vision about him went well. (She guessed he spoke English and won Rosetta Stone tapes.)

Danny Espinosa, 23 and our new Nationals hero, welcome.

Onto the pictures…

Play ball! Beautiful day for a ballgame and a suntan. My dad picked up some great seats this year. All Coopers present, including visiting Rob.

As my dad and I watch the just-returned Jordan Zimmermann's ERA pinball and my mom debates how well Rob and I can protect her from the left-handed bats of Ryan Zimmerman and David Wright, the Nats get an early 3-0 deficit, and Willie Harris runs face-first into the fence.

Enter Espinosa. He hits a solo shot. We go nuts. Fortunes turn. (Good fact: Espinosa was in a MLB bench-clearing brawl before a MLB at-bat.)

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Yes, Strasburg didn't make All-Star. But consider how far we've come.

Opening Day Nats program, at the fam's house as we beach-prepped:

Father's Day! Interleague play! White Sox! Nat losing streak! Hot day!

The Nats shipped John Lannan to AA after the game. Can't win 'em all.

Father and sons! I'm glad Rob made it down from New York for a day. Mom joined us shortly after. We all want Lannan to be himself again.

Saluting military behind the plate is becoming a great Nats' tradition. I want to point it out because we don't have many traditions. Between this, the President's Race and other stuff, we're going the right way.

Also, we couldn't stop watching Ozzie Guillen. Here, arguing a call.

For Father's Day, Teddy skipped the running and took it easy.

Question: Where's Screech's father? His mom showed up for Mother's Day, but Sunday got no appearance from any Mr. Screech Senior.