“Nationals’ Dream Season Nothing Short of a Miracle,” Tom Verducci writes in Sports Illustrated. The underdog Nats won the World Series in the last of its five come-from-behind playoff elimination games. As a forever baseball fan, I loved it all. But what, I wondered, was so irresistible about this Nats team? Down and counted out in May with 19 wins and 31 losses, manager Dave Martinez stayed positive throughout injuries to key players and calls for his firing. Just go 1-0 was his daily mantra, just win the game today.

Yes, The Washington Nationals won and oh! so much more.

The players and fans call their approach to baseball “Natitude.” No longer sleep-deprived from all the late-night games, I now understand my attraction to this team. Natitude works off the field as well—it’s a winning way of living. Laughter, music, friendship, sportsmanship, respect, patience, trust, perspective, hugging and dancing. Alive!

The players unadulterated exuberance proved infectious not only to their devoted fans but also to newcomers to the game. How they love playing ball. Each professional athlete displayed a lighthearted playfulness. Differences in age, background, or language disappeared in peals of laughter. Mired in a batting slump, Gerardo Parra changed his song when walking up to bat to “Baby Shark,” a children’s tune loved by his daughter. Teammates and a stadium of fans sing and clap “doo doo doo doo doo doo!”

Players unabashedly showed their affection for each other. MVP pitcher Stephen Strasburg admitted that he’d never been good at hugging or dancing but was getting better at both. Dugout dance moves after a Nats home run were as good as the runs scored! There was no macho chest-thumping or showing up of the other team, no aggressive balls thrown at batters or ego-feeding tantrums. Confidence didn’t require arrogance. Management and teammates supported relief pitcher Daniel Hudson’s paternity leave during the division series, despite his absence leaving them with only one closer in the bullpen. Asked by broadcasters after Game 7 why he didn’t have a girl friend on the field to celebrate, grinning slugger Juan Soto replied that his mother was there.

An anonymous Astros’ fan took out an ad in the Washington Post, thanking the Nats’ fans for their hospitality and good will. This civility honored in the ad wasn’t diminished when fans booed the president upon the public address announcement of his arrival at Game 5. All presidents work for the people, and his employers in the ballpark rated his job performance. Their views expressed, fans then got back to the game. Pitcher Sean Doolittle’s explanation of his decision not to be part of the team’s visit to the White House serves as a model of open, engaging communication—he lays out his reasons clearly and simply, showing loyalty to members of his family and the courage to live his convictions. And Doolittle’s thoughtful tone invites anyone who may disagree with him into a conversation, while not condemning any of his teammates who would accept the invitation. No anger, no rancor.

Four generations in my family rooted the Nats on. My uncle’s dad took him to old Griffith Stadium as a boy, and at 91 he watched the home team win it all. His were the days of listening to baseball on the radio, the game seen in fans’ imaginations. Listen to the radio call of the last out, in 2019, by play-by-play announcer Charlie Slowes.

As one of my cousins said before going to the Nats’ parade, “I’ll miss their faces.” It was a gust of pure oxygen, these smiling ballplayers dancing to Pedro Capó’s “Calma,” singing “Slow and happy, faces to the wind.”

Patiently wait for your pitch. No panic. Never doubt. Give your all today. Natitude.