DWINDLING: Nationals not packing 'em in

WASHINGTON -- On a muggy August afternoon -- the only kind of August afternoon D.C. knows -- two middle-aged fans stroll down the short block between the gleaming baseball park and the Metro subway station.

The street, open only to pedestrians, looks like a paved ribbon cutting through a construction zone. The block is lined with temporary plywood walls covered in glossy portraits of what the street might look like one day, an idealized mixture of shops, offices and condos.

That day hasn't arrived yet. There's the ballpark at one end and a distinctly modern glass-and-steel building at the other, above the subway entrance. There are no construction cranes, no construction noises, just a makeshift outdoor bar with a plastic tent.

One of the middle-aged fans turns away from the billboard pictures.

"All those dreams," he says. Both men laugh cynically and move along.

The recession threw a curveball at the development beside the Navy Yard, a mile south of the U.S. Capitol. Pitchers throw curveballs at the Washington Nationals, still owners of the worst record in either league despite a recent hot streak.

D.C. residents throw changeups at the box office. They are paying off a huge chunk of the $693 million stadium mortgage -- the construction tab was supposed to be $611 million, before those sneaky cost overruns -- but they show up irregularly.

Although tourists stream into the ballpark and the government grows, the crowds often shrink. In the Nationals Park's second season, average attendance has declined from 29,986 to 23,140 through the first 57 dates. The Nationals rank 25th among the 30 teams, leading Kansas City, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Florida and cellar-dwelling Oakland (17,631).

Apologists cite the economy and the 38-72 record heading into last night's game. Some statisticians cite the pitching. Washington has allowed 603 runs, more than anybody and 49 more than the second-worst N.L. team. Other statisticians cite the fielding. Washington has the worst fielding percentage in baseball and the most errors (99, twice as many as four teams).

But those are big-picture snapshots from big-picture books. Washington seldom wastes much time studying the books or fretting over stats. Washington lives for the bountiful riches of the moment, and last week the Nationals hit the jackpot.

Nationals win six in a row

On Thursday afternoon, the elegantly named Elijah Dukes smacked a tying homer as the Nats climbed out of a six-run hole against Florida and won 12-8. On Friday night, North Carolina native Ryan Zimmerman slugged his 24th homer in a 7-6 comeback against Arizona, the Nats' sixth straight win.

Suddenly, Washington has a dog-days pulse. But the eternal question remains: Does Washington have a baseball heart and baseball soul?

The Washington Senators ruled the sport once upon a time. And only once.

In the seventh game of the 1924 World Series, Walter "Big Train" Johnson marched out of the bullpen and held the New York Giants scoreless until a 12th-inning grounder hit a rock and bounced over the head of Giants third baseman Fred Lindstrom. The stroke of luck delivered the championship.

Griffith Stadium never got so lucky again. Pittsburgh, trailing 3 games to 1 in 1925, rallied past the Senators. The Giants dominated their Series rematch in 1933. Two years later, Clark Griffith, an owner mesmerized by the seeming permanence of a comfortable status quo, derided the growing push for lights.

"There is no chance night baseball will ever become popular in the major leagues," Griffith said. "The game was meant to be played in the Lord's own sunshine."

Sportswriters on deadline still prefer the owner's view, but history took another position. Griffith relented in May 1941. Johnson threw out the ceremonial first pitch, activating the lights. The Yankees won.

In another game that season, according to the book Green Cathedrals, the lights went out just as the pitcher started his windup against Detroit's George Kell. When the lights came back on, Kell, the catcher, the umpire and all the fielders were flat on the ground, ducking for cover. The pitcher -- the only one who knew that he hadn't thrown the ball -- stood still on the hill, possibly laughing inside.

Almost ever since then, baseball folks have been laughing at Washington ("first in war, first in peace and last in the American League"). Broadway adored the 1955 hit Damn Yankees, in which a Senators fan makes a deal with the devil and becomes the young slugger for Washington's astonishing contenders.

Senators left town twice

The real-world Senators closed out the 1950s by living up to the derisive slogan. They finished last in 1957, last in 1958 and last in 1959. A year later, the original Senators played their last game and moved to Minnesota, replaced by an expansion team.

Those expansion Senators, awaiting completion of the circular stadium now named RFK (for Sen. Robert F. Kennedy), spent one final season in Griffith Stadium. Griffith -- 24 blocks north of the Capitol where 7th St. NW turns into Georgia Avenue -- opened in 1911, one year ahead of Fenway Park.

The stadium didn't possess Fenway's Green Monster, but it did offer a unique feature. In center field, the tall wall suddenly turned toward home plate and jutted into the outfield for about 50 feet before making a 90-degree turn back toward right center. The reason: Owners refused to sell five duplex homes on that corner of that block, forcing stadium engineers to build around them.

Griffith Stadium exits only in memories now, its site occupied by Howard University Hospital, where crape myrtles line the grassy expanse leading to the entrance.

In 1971, the new Senators played their final game at RFK before bolting to Texas. Washington led by two runs with two out in the ninth inning when hundreds of fans rushed onto the field, protesting owner Bob Short's exit. Police couldn't control the mob, and umpires declared a forfeit. The Yankees won.

Washington descended into hardball darkness, twice abandoned and routinely scorned by outsiders who imagined that only political pressure could create another team. The demise of the Montreal Expos provided the vehicle. The major leagues took over the franchise, cut a stadium deal with the D.C. City Council and parked the club at RFK for three seasons, until Nationals Park opened.

Baseball now has a red (trim), white (cement) and blue (seats) home in Washington. The team suddenly seems resistant to making a permanent home in last place, which sounds downright revolutionary.

Will Washington catch the fever? Possibly not. In August, official Washington catches a plane home or a ride to Cape Cod. It's really muggy, you know?

■ Lenox Rawlings can be reached at lrawlings@wsjournal.com