Sneaking into the Nats’ new stadium is easier than you think

When the Nats open up the 2008 baseball season, they’ll be playing in a stadium that looks something like this:

Eight months before this artist’s rendition becomes a reality, though, I decided on Saturday to stop by the stadium construction site for a sneak peak. And I got to see more than I expected.

Walking down Half St, south of M St in Southeast, I saw the purple-blue seats of the Nats’ new 41,000-seat arena. I approached the stadium and saw backhoes lining the street and trash littering the gutted sidewalks.

I spotted some construction workers milling about and could hear the hum of machinery coming from the hollowed center of the stadium. I walked around the left-field stands with my camera, slightly disappointed with the lack of exciting images.

The thought of trespassing entered my mind. There aren’t any signs telling me not to enter, I rationalized. So, armed with the courage of knowing my chances of getting arrested were slim, I walked across the sandy gutters and into the stadium.

I was surprised by how easy it was. No one saw me and the few workers who were at the site were too far away — and busy with construction — to see me.

I hid behind a pickup truck and approached the lip of the field opening. I snapped some quick photos and watched two workers stroll by without seeing me. I found a hard hat and considered wearing it in case I was spotted and needed to blend in. Riiiiight,, I thought, I’m sure there are plenty of people who walk around the stadium wearing a T-shirt from Guatemala and cargo shorts, furtively taking photos.

Fearing a charge of theft on top of the trespassing one I imagined I could still get, I left the hard hat in the truck bed and continued my unauthorized tour.

Steel beams provided a mental preview of what the stadium will look like when finished. Though most of the ground under the stands and in the passageways is still dirt, much of the field is already covered with concrete. The outfield looked to be taking shape and when I peered to the right-field foul area, I saw the first-base dugout carved out of the ground and the foul pole standing stoically down the line.

I continued to walk under the stands and found what I thought might turn out to be the steel skeleton of the future club suites. I pretended to be someone important enough to afford one of these suites and shuffled in.

After snapping more shots, I was thinking about walking around to the right-field side of the stadium or even finding a way to climb up a level, when I heard footsteps.

Be cool Arjewtino, I assured myself, doing my best impression of a cat burglar. I tiptoed to one of the other suites when a construction worker stumbled into my path.

“Oh, hey,” I said as nonchalantly as possible, hoping he’d mistake me for a Nationals’ press officer. “Just taking some pictures.”

“How did you get in here?” he asked, not fooled by my acting ability, but not showing anger, either.

“Oh, I just walked in from down the street,” I replied. It’s open.”

Talk fast, I thought, don’t act like you know it’s illegal to trespass.

“This stadium looks like it’s coming along,” I continued. “Think you’ll be finished by spring of next year?”

The worker, a silver-bearded man who carried the air of a foreman, eyed me without saying a word. I nodded my head and looked up at the rafters, trying to appear like an architect impressed that his vision of a major league stadium is finally being realized. I could tell he wasn’t buying any of this and I wondered if I could beat him in a foot race.

“You can’t be here,” he said. “You’re not wearing a hard hat and there’s work being done. This is dangerous.”

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him like he was an appetizer I didn’t order.

“Oh?” I said. “Ok, I’ll go.”

The man walked me out and didn’t participate in my awkward efforts at small talk. He didn’t care how excited I was about the Nats’ chances next year nor about my attendance at the DC United-Beckham game at RFK last week.

I neared the exit and he said, “Watch your step on your way out,” and disappeared.

I could still turn around, undetected, and do some more snooping, I thought.

Realizing a charge of trespassing could also carry a lifetime ban from the new stadium, I walked out into the sunlight.

Wait til next year, I thought, wait til next year.

My favorite photo was this full-sized one, which, as it turned out, I took from the same angle the artist’s rendition was drawn from: