On a corner near Nationals Ballpark after the game last night, a traffic cop repeatedly blew her whistle to stop two Phillies fans from crossing the street into traffic. "They're Phillies fans," someone on the sidewalk yelled out. "You have to go explain it to them." The Philadelphia fans, young women, glared into the crowd. "Don't even start," one said, and they stalked off. But it was clear last night that we had started. A real crowd rivalry had begun, with Washington finally standing up to Philly.

It was a beautiful night for baseball. As part of the take-back-the-park effort, Nats fans seemed to outnumber Philly fans. There were seven in our group. I ate multiple hot dogs and pretzels. We were upstairs with a good view of everything. Philly folks did their typical early touting. Mr. Strasburg left a couple pitches high and suffered consequences. But he held them close, and the team worked and worked until the bottom of the 11th when Wilson Ramos hit a pinch single to win it for us. Post:

In the end, the Nationals extended the distance between them and the five-time reigning division champions. Late Friday night, music blared in the Nationals’ clubhouse. On a hook next to Ramos’s locker, a red cap hung, covered in shaving cream. Outside the stadium, fans went home happy, except the ones driving all the way back to Philadelphia.

That was the last paragraph of the gamer today. Love it. Other pix…

Natitude Park. Hate the slogan. But like the amping up for this series.

There were afternoon rumors that a sellout game would allow Teddy to win. It wasn't a sellout, and of course Teddy didn't win. Someday.

Celebrating. Lots of high-fives on the field and in our section.

Update: Via Lori, the gang, complete with photo-bomb gang signs.

Seeing a great smile can turn your day around, and never is that idea more true than when the smile comes from the biggest loser in town.

Thursday morning was a rough one at work: three hours of staring at a screen and trying to diagnose a problem that was a combination of the world's most annoying hidden tags and Firefox's awkward puberty. While the work led to a solution, my eyes began to weaken and worry.

But then I left. I had planned weeks earlier my first hours off of 2012, comp time for double projects last month. I left the building through a back door, walked the three blocks to Mt. Vernon Square's Metro and walked into the Nationals' ballpark 20 minutes later for Opening Day.

Just inside, there was Teddy, smiling because spring had come.

Buddy Jeff and I sat in the lower bowl in left, and my parents sat a few sections over. The crowd wasn't a sellout, but it was good for a home opener a week into the year. The pretzel stand behind left continued to be my favorite, adding Blue Moon's nice spring beer to its offerings.

I didn't attempt the new eight-pound Strasburger, like these guys did. I thought it was a bad idea to try and eat something bigger than the "Old 96er" John Candy ate in Great Outdoors. Also, I would have died.

The Racing Presidents ran through left field instead of right, a nice way to keep the race fresh. And they came near our seats. But of course…

My phone ran out of battery shortly after the race, but you saw in the paper how the game turned out. We blew a 2-0 lead in the ninth, and our hero, Ryan Zimmerman, was the closest thing to the culprit in the situation. But in the bottom of the 10th, with two outs and the stadium on its feet, the Reds pitcher threw a wild one, and an alert Zimmerman ran in from third for the run and win. High fives resounded in our row.

Other highlights? Our new No. 2 starter, Gio Gonzalez, was fun to see. In seven shutout innings for us, he struck out seven, gave up two hits and walked none. He had a detective air — half scrutinizing, half aloof — except for when he singled and had a Racing-Teddy-like smile. And Craig Stammen had an absolutely beautiful top of the 10th. I'd never seen a 10-pitch, three-strikeout inning before. (Would I ever again?)

Jeff and I walked up to Capitol South after and caught Metro there. I returned to work for a couple hours, staying late. Didn't mind it a bit.

Every March, I check out Major League Baseball's green St. Patrick's Day merchandise as an indicator of the state of the Nationals and the league. Yes, really, I do. I'm only half-joking here. It works, you see?

In 2007, the Nationals saw a meager offering in a meager stadium. In 2008, amid the fallout from Mitchell Report on performance-enhancing drugs, green scaled way back. In 2009, the league improved, but the Nationals stayed at zero. In many ways. In 2010, Stephen Strasburg arrived, and we returned to the green, celebrating St. Patrick's again. In 2011, with our Strasburg hurt, our green merch finished dead last.

This St. Patrick's, I bring mixed news. The Nationals aren't last. We are a long, long way from first, but we're not last. Across the league, there is upheaval. Every team gets green merchandise this year. A good sign of parity? Luck? (Socialism?) There's also change among green leaders. The Phillies and Cubs have surged to the lead. Long-time St. Patrick's leaders — the Red Sox, Yankees and Mets — have fallen back. Full list:

37, Phillies. 35, Cubs. 32, Red Sox. 31, Yankees. 23, Dodgers. 21, Mets and White Sox. 17, Braves, Twins. 16, Cardinals. 12, Giants. 11, Tigers.

Single digits: 8, Reds. 7, Astros, Indians, Orioles. 6, Brewers, Mariners and Rangers. 5, Athletics and Rays. 4, Angels, Nationals, Pirates, and Rockies. 3, Royals. 2, Marlins and Padres. 1, Blue Jays, Diamondbacks.

May chaotic road games rise up to meet you. May the wind be always blowing out. May the sun shine warm upon your wild day games.

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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