The Nationals Pastime

How can it be that our nation's capital has a baseball team in first place so late in the season? The last time that happened was in 1933, so long ago that the Democrats were in charge. Indeed, the last time Washington even had a baseball team was 1971, when the old Senators left town, a few years before Nixon did.

It may be that the new, division-leading Washington Nationals are enjoying a change of scenery. Before moving south this year, the team had spent 36 mostly futile years as the Montreal Expos and for the past decade had played before home crowds so sparse, the catchers could hear individual fans ask for peanuts. Or maybe it's the pitching staff, one of the toughest in the league to score against. Or it might be manager Frank Robinson, a gutsy ex-outfielder who almost decked a much younger--and bigger--guy last week as he tore after Los Angeles Angels manager Mike Scioscia, who had cursed him during a confrontation over a rules violation.

Call "Robby"--a Hall of Famer who slugged 586 home runs during his playing days--crazy for the near brawl. But also call him manager of the year. In 2004, his Expos finished dead last and slunk out of Canada forlorn and for sale. (There were no takers.) This year, the Nationals are the toast of the capital and contenders in the National League East. Potential buyers are lining up like K Street lobbyists looking for a legislative handout. And the team is winning, despite lacking a true star and having a $47 million payroll, the lowest in the division.

Robinson is an appealing throwback. In an age in which sports stars tend to spout safely meaningless clichés ("We gave 110%"), Robby speaks his mind. Whereas other managers coddle players, Robinson demands respect. Pitcher Tomo Okha turned his back on the skipper when he lifted Okha from a game. Days later, a trade exiled Okha to Milwaukee. "You've always got to play hard for Frank," says Washington outfielder Jose Guillen, who arrived this season with a hothead reputation but leads the team with 11 homers, sans trouble. "You don't come prepared for the ballpark, you got a problem."

Robinson has no use for modern strategy either. In a sport that touts the trendy Moneyball style of play, in which esoteric statistics guide decisions, Robinson doesn't know OPS (on-base percentage plus slugging, Moneyball's sacred stat) from UPS. "I don't like the computer," he says. "I go with instincts and gut feelings and heart." Entering last weekend, the Nats had won an NL-high 17 one-run games, in which a manager's chess moves have the most impact.