I’ve always dreamed of pursuing a career in baseball. Talking about the sport with just about anyone who will listen has always been a hobby of mine, but I never knew at what capacity I could realistically achieve these dreams until recently. Earlier this year, I decided to take my future into my own hands and pursue a master’s degree in sports industry management online.

Little did I know, the school I selected was in the right city, just ahead of the best season of baseball the city would see since the 1930s. Some may call this luck, but I consider my decisions that led to this moment nothing short of fate. This fate led me to the World Series and left me with memories I will surely never forget.

I was given the opportunity to attend Game 4 and Game 5 of the World Series at Nationals Park through a sustainability initiative at Georgetown University, where I decided to pursue my graduate studies. This meant I would be collecting recyclables in between each inning from fans in the 118 section, but it also meant I’d be able to enjoy the game in the lower level of the park.

Since I’ve never been to a World Series game and was unsure when I’d ever get the chance again, I knew I had to jump at the opportunity.

I flew into D.C. (very) early Saturday morning and ran through my day on about two hours of sleep. I felt like a kid on Christmas, and no amount of sleep would have made me more awake than knowing I was going to be watching the best baseball of the year before my own eyes.

When I arrived at the park that night, I was unsure who I was planning on rooting for. My Georgetown classmates were, of course, all in on the Nationals, but I couldn’t help but cheer for players like Jose Altuve, Carlos Correa, and Gerrit Cole. Nonetheless, I was just excited to be at the ballpark and soak in the experience.

All of my classmates were local to D.C., so you can imagine their surprise when I told them I traveled from Syracuse, New York, just for this moment. I heard the phrase, “you came all the way here for this?” more times than I can count. This meant that I was either absolutely crazy or one heck of a dedicated baseball fan. Either way, I took it as a compliment.

Unfortunately, Saturday night’s game left a lot to be desired as it was pretty much a blowout game. The Astros struck 13 hits and my hometown hero, Syracuse-native Patrick Corbin, could not slow the Astros’ roll. He gave up four consecutive hits and two runs in the first, which set the stage for a tough 8-1 loss for the Nats. This resulted in a second-straight win for the Astros.

Even throughout this game, I found myself still unsure of who I was supporting. I read a saying once that said when you’re faced with two choices, flip a coin and you will know which one you’re hoping for on its way down. I realized that, while Alex Bregman’s grand slam was in flight in the seventh inning, I was secretly hoping it would fall short into left field.

I was hoping the Nationals could come up from behind, but instead, I was faced with disappointed faces and prematurely emptied seats – seats spectators spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on.

Maybe it’s the Mets fan in me that was hoping to see the underdog come out victorious. Maybe it was the stadium lights, the roar of 43,000 Nationals fans, or the overwhelming disappointment when yet another run was scored against them, but I left that night disappointed the Nationals couldn’t secure a win at home.

My recycling duties ended after the seventh inning, and the majority of fans left shortly thereafter.

The following night, my classmates and I were hopeful that the game would be the pitchers’ duel we had been waiting for. We arrived at the park early and even had the chance to stand on the dirt in center field to soak in all that was to come.

I could have been anywhere in the world at that moment. I could have been celebrating Halloween weekend with friends, as most 20-somethings were. I could have been sitting at home, getting ready to watch the game with my family.

So many thoughts were running through my head at that moment, but I was speechless. I stood there and shed a tear, realizing my dreams of attending a World Series finally came to fruition. The lights were blinding, but I stared up at them in awe, finding the highest seat and fixating on the distance between myself and that seat. For me to call myself lucky would be an understatement.

Side note: I realize I can never wash my shoes again since they touched World Series dirt, but I am totally fine with that.

Unfortunately, Max Scherzer’s neck injury made our hopes fall short of the matchup we had all anticipated.

Starter Joe Ross gave up four runs over five innings, making it difficult to have hope that I would see a team win at their home field. Even a Juan Soto homer in the seventh couldn’t stop the inevitable fate that I would witness the Nationals lose two games at their own park.

By the end of the seventh inning, there was no roaring crowd, no celebration, no waving towels, just hundreds of sad fans dressed in red surrounding me on the yellow line metro. Even if I were a die-hard Astros fan, something would not have felt right in that moment. Something was missing.

Although I made friends throughout the weekend, I attended these games by myself. I found that, at the end of the night, there was no one to cheer with, no excitement, and, most of all, no hope.

It was then that I realized the importance of fans banding together. In moments of doubt and despair, when it’s next to impossible to see your team come out of the other side with a win, is the exact moment fans should stand together in support of their team.

Whether it is a stranger on the metro or your best friend, giving a reassuring “we got this” can do a lot to boost morale and make those moments a little less sad.

Though I was admittedly a Nationals fan for the weekend, it made me happy to call the New York Mets my home. I am thankful for the relentless positivity of this fanbase, and the “never say never” strength the team and its fans demonstrated this season.

Regardless of the outcome, this trip was once-in-a-lifetime and reminded me why I love baseball. I hope to be present for a hundred more moments like this one, but I will always remember this as the first.

I can only hope to see the Mets play in a World Series next year. Maybe I’ll even find myself under the stadium lights of Citi Field, with more than 41,000 fans roaring, waving their towels, and banding together with the notion that to be a fan is to be part of something much bigger than baseball.