Tom Temin is the host and anchor of the Federal Drive on Federal News Network.
MLB players’ most impressive quality might just be their stamina. Playing day after day over the better part of a year. Traveling to hotel after hotel. Going to five, six or seven World Series games — what a test of stamina!
Well, as a fan, I’m bleary-eyed, too.
Three nights in a row I’ve fallen into bed at nearly 2 a.m., after returning from the first D.C.-hosted World Series games in three generations.
My wife, who has fallen asleep with the lights on, will murmur as I trudge upstairs, “Wehdz th zudnbf Scherzer budiszznbh whs zzekls can’t they get a hit?”
In the past couple of weeks — after going to some 25 regular season games — I’ve attended the Wild Card, the NLCS playoff, the NLDS playoffs and the World Series.
The games started late at night. They went long. I score every pitch in a big score book. My mechanical pencil, which I’ve used since the Nats played at RFK Stadium, is wearing out. I have a cramped writing hand.
Traipsing through the clogged Nationals Park concourses after sellouts where nearly everyone stays to the end — exhausting!
Squirming through the mobbed Metro turnstiles and down the packed escalators and into the sardine-can trains — exhausting!
Getting five hours sleep night after night — exhausting!
I’m not only sleepy, I’m fatter than ever. I’ve chowed down Nats chicken nuggets and fries, Shake Shack hamburgers and fries, foot-long Nats dogs and fries, popcorn and fries, multiple 16-ounce Buds — and fries.
Plus, for fans, there’s the exhausting emotional roller coaster the Nationals have pulled us over. The thrilling Wild Card win. The cliffhanger, but ultimately successful, Dodgers campaign. The mowing down of the Cardinals. We were on cloud nine!
And, and, and — two consecutive wins in Houston. We could taste that trophy!
Then, to quote the 1970s “Wide World of Sports” opener, the agony of defeat. Those last three games? Well, now we know how witnesses to skier Vinko Bogataj must have felt.
Now the team is off to Houston. I’ll bet it was a contemplative plane ride. Many friends who know I went to all the games are giving me shoulder pats and chuckled condolences.
I won’t be going to the Nats Park viewing parties. No more chicken nuggets. No more beer. I’ve shelved my score book for the winter and put fresh leads into the drafting pencil.
It’s been a long and glorious season. When my team goes this far, I realize I started the season with them just about when the cherry blossoms were in bloom, and ended as the leaves changed colors and the chilly autumn nights returned.
I love the crazy Nationals — but I’m exhausted.
See you at Spring Training.
