The Slapstick Slap Fight That Sums Up The 2015 Washington Nationals

The Washington Nationals acquired Jonathan Papelbon from the Philadelphia Phillies three days before the trade deadline, while the team was finishing up an 11-13 July with all the grace of an obese dog descending a long flight of stairs. Washington would win the next few games, but the end was near; their last view from first place would come on Aug. 1, only days after acquiring Papelbon. A team with such promise, the consensus choice to win their division and challenge for a spot in the World Series, was just dipping its nose downward for the last time. Into this scenario, came the crazy-eyed and deliciously insane Papelbon.

Dropping the notoriously hotheaded closer into the Nationals clubhouse sounds less like a front office move and more like an idea conceived by the producer of a reality show. "We can call it Crashing Plane!" they'd cry out in delight. "Just make sure there's enough booze, and that a camera stays on Papelbon at all times." On Sunday, when Papelbon charged, choked, and threw a haymaker at Bryce Harper—his teammate, the best player in the National League, and someone who had not-so-obliquely criticized him in the press for throwing at Manny Machado's head last week—the producers got their money moment.

Papelbon was brought in because the team wanted another bullpen arm but didn't want to increase payroll in 2015 to do so. In order to acquire Papelbon, the Nationals agreed to pick up the closer's 2016 option, while the Phillies agreed to pick up the majority of his salary for this season. So the mess that's been created by this trade is on ownership. Papelbon was brought in to close even though the team already had a closer—who was, at the time, pitching very effectively, and has since gone in the tank—who had expressed displeasure at the idea of being deposed for an outsider. So this was on the front office, too. After he spent the Nationals half of Sunday's eighth inning yelling at and then choking Harper during a disagreement about whether the MVP candidate had hustled to first base, manager Matt Williams sent Papelbon out to pitch the ninth inning against his former team, the Phillies; Papelbon proceeded to surrender five runs and the game. So this was on the manager.

So, who to blame for all this? The answer is yes.

The person most likely to suffer the consequences of all this is the manager, the man who either saw Papelbon choke the 22-year-old face of the franchise and thought, 'Sending that guy out to pitch now is a good idea!" or didn't see it happen and wondered "What's everyone doing in the corner of the dugout? Is there cake?"

Depending on who you talk to in the Nationals clubhouse, Williams has been a terrible manager, has no people skills to speak of, is unable to adjust to situations on the fly, is impersonal, aloof, tone-deaf… wait, where was I going with this? The point is Williams is almost certainly done, just one season after being named the National League Manager of the Year. He continues to demonstrate why, just in case anyone in upper management or the media missed it.

Not all of the team's problems are the result of nebulous Papelbon-ian shit-stirring or Williams-based hocus-pocus. One jerk in the clubhouse shouldn't be enough to turn a potential World Series champion into a puddle of despair, just as having a doofus in charge of the team shouldn't be able to reroute a juggernaut from pole position on the race track into the side of a neighbor's above-ground pool. Teams have won the World Series with non-geniuses in the managers' office, and teams have won the World Series with Jonathan Papelbon on the roster.

There are any number of other, actual concrete reasons for the Nationals failure. Washington has missed almost 1,000 man-games to injury this season for example, though six teams including the playoff-bound Dodgers, Rangers, and (oh, indignity!) Mets have missed more. Then there's been the star players who have had down seasons. Jayson Werth, Ian Desmond, Wilson Ramos, Anthony Rendon, Denard Span, and Michael Taylor all missed time, played badly, or both. Just as importantly, the team went from an average defensive team to a below average one. Then there is the bullpen, but really, we don't need to talk about that.

Not every aspect of the Nationals is rotten to the core. Harper is putting up an ungodly season at an age when his peers are finishing up Double-A. Max Scherzer is ace-like at the front of the team's rotation. Young players like Rendon and Trea Turner have a great deal of promise. There are all kinds of reasons for hope, here.

But when it comes to this lost season, the Nationals have done an impressive thing, if not the impressive thing baseball pundits all thought they would do. They've taken a golden opportunity and given it a golden shower. If you recall the Stephen Strasburg shutdown and the Jim Riggleman mid-season resignation, in years past—remember every time the Nationals have made it to the playoffs—you will agree that this organization is getting pretty good at ruining potentially great things. Sunday's mini-brawl was gripping slapstick, but even more damning as symbolism. For most teams, this would be an embarrassing fluke. For this year's Nationals, a flubby wrestling match unfolding in the dugout during the game—while the manager, front office, and ownership all looked on, helplessly, as if it weren't happening—felt like an apt summary.