Tales from the clubhouse: The John McLaren Era

I woke up on the morning of June 24, 2011, exhausted from the events of the previous day, and rushed to the airport to catch a flight to Chicago. The Nationals were opening a three-game interleague series against the White Sox, having just won 11 of their last 12 but now employing a temporary manager for the weekend.

Jim Riggleman's surprise resignation following a walk-off win over the Mariners at Nationals Park had shocked the baseball world, certainly the baseball-caring portion of Washington. Now John McLaren, Riggleman's bench coach and longtime confidant, was going to take the helm for a few days until a different interim manager could be hired to finish out the season.

I didn't think I was in for an easy day, but I assumed it couldn't be any crazier than the day that had just been completed. I was wrong. June 24 made June 23 look an afterthought.

The hubbub began while I was in flight. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Riggleman was making the rounds on the radio, starting with an appearance on 106.7 FM's "The Sports Junkies." During that segment, the now-ex-manager revealed he had spent his first night of unemployment at Caddie's on Cordell in Bethesda, taking photos alongside young ladies and "solving the world's problems."

The 58-year-old Riggleman, who throughout his two-year tenure as Nats manager was very cautious about what he said in public, almost intentionally boring, was now spilling his guts on the air about his stunning breakup with the organization, his relationships with players, his dissatisfaction with the front office and his disdain for a local columnist.

I learned all of this while in a cab from O'Hare to my downtown Chicago hotel. I don't think they had the "mind blown" emoji on cell phones at the time. I wish they did.

As juicy as Riggleman's radio revenge tour was, there was the more pressing matter of that night's game at Comiskey Park. (And yes, I'm calling it Comiskey Park even though it had already assumed a corporate name by 2011, but I don't care.)

McLaren had agreed to manage through the weekend. Trent Jewett, who had been traveling with the team all season as an extra coach but wasn't allowed to be in the dugout during games, agreed to become bench coach through the weekend. Davey Johnson appeared to be in line to become manager for the rest of the season, but it wasn't until the seventh inning or so of that night's game that the news was confirmed.

Now, about that game. It was scoreless heading to the eighth, a classic pitchers' duel between Jordan Zimmermann and Edwin Jackson (yes, the Edwin Jackson who would sign with the Nationals the next season). Roger Bernadina had robbed Adam Dunn (yes, the Adam Dunn who left the Nats the previous winter for a four-year deal with the White Sox) of a home run. And then Michael Morse launched a two-run homer to center off Brian Bruney (yes, the Brian Bruney who had a 7.64 ERA for the Nats the previous year) to give the visitors a 2-0 lead.

It looked like the Nationals were going to get out of the bottom of the eighth unscathed, but then Ian Desmond threw wide to first on Paul Konerko's grounder, and Morse had to make a lunging catch and then tag Konerko on the leg. First base umpire Mike Estabrook ruled Konerko out. Chicago manager Ozzie Guillen came out to argue. Plate umpire Jeff Nelson gathered his entire crew together, and after a long discussion changed Estabrook's call to safe.

Now keep this in mind: There was no instant replay in Major League Baseball at that time, not for safe-out calls on plays like that. For one umpire to just overrule another umpire in that kind of manner ... well, you just didn't see that happen often, if ever.

It's safe to say McLaren had never seen it happen, because he burst out of the dugout and tore into both Nelson and Estabrook. It was one of the most animated managerial tirades in Nationals history, and of course it resulted in his ejection from his first game as Nats manager. (Jerry Hairston, playing left field that night, also was ejected after arguing the reversal.)

So now the Nats have to try to regroup and get out of the inning, and anybody watching the game needs an answer to a seemingly simple question: Who's in charge now? Normally, the bench coach takes over when the manager is ejected. But remember what I mentioned earlier: Jewett had just become temporary bench coach at the start of the evening, and he hadn't even been part of the in-game coaching staff prior to that.

It took a while before former Nationals public relations director John Dever was able to give us the official answer: Jewett was the manager. The interim interim interim manager, if we want to get technical. But third base coach Bo Porter (yes, the Bo Porter who is now our pregame and postgame analyst on MASN) would assist with offensive decisions while pitching coach Steve McCatty would assist with pitching decisions.

Meanwhile, the Nationals extended the lead to 3-0 on Desmond's RBI single in the top of the ninth. They just needed Drew Storen to close it out in the bottom of the inning to emerge victorious. Except Storen couldn't do that. He gave up a three-run homer to Mark Teahen, leaving the game tied and headed to extra innings.

No problem, because in the top of the 10th, Laynce Nix mashed a solo homer to put the Nationals back on top 4-3. They just needed Todd Coffey to close it out in the bottom of the inning. Except Coffey couldn't do that. A walk, a double and an intentional walk loaded the bases with one out. Then a wild pitch brought the tying run home and kept the game going.

No problem, because in the top of the 12th, Brian Bixler (yes, Brian Bixler) ripped an RBI double to right to score Nix and give the Nationals a 5-4 lead. They just needed Tyler Clippard to close it out in the bottom of the inning. Except Clippard couldn't do that. With two outs, nobody on and an 0-2 count, Clippard served up a solo homer to A.J. Pierzynski, inexplicably leaving the game tied yet again.

It was the Nationals' third blown save of the game. It was only the 22nd time in major league history that a team had done that. Only four of the previous 21 teams had still found a way to win the game. The Nats became the fifth to do it.

After a scoreless 13th, the Nationals again retook the lead in the top of the 14th when Bixler (yes, Bixler) beat out a grounder to third, stole second without a throw, then scored all the way from second on a bad throw by White Sox shortstop Alexei Ramírez. Bernadina drove in an insurance run with an RBI single off Matt Thornton (yes, the same Matt Thornton who would be charged with the loss for the Nats in Game 4 of the 2014 National League Division Series). Ryan Zimmerman drove in two more insurance runs with a double off Thornton, extending the lead to 9-5.

The Nats just needed to avoid giving up four runs in the bottom of the 14th. They had only one pitcher left in the bullpen: Collin Balester. Balester got an out, then gave up two singles. This wasn't really going to happen again, was it? No. Balester got Álex Ríos to ground into a double play to end the game and secure one of the wildest wins in club history.

The game took 4 hours, 58 minutes to complete. It was no longer June 24 by the time the clubhouse opened to reporters. It was June 25. And the scene inside that clubhouse was unlike any other I've ever experienced.

The music was turned up to heretofore unheard-of levels. Way past 11. Players were slapping each other on the backs. They were screaming. They were defiant. They were emotional. They had now won 12 of 13 games, and they didn't give a you-know-what who their manager was at that moment.

"That's as much intensity as I've seen in the game in 24 years," McLaren said inside that clubhouse. "It was incredible, the passion they had and the will to win."

The Nationals would lose 3-0 the next afternoon, no surprise given the amount of energy they expended the previous night. But they came back to win the series finale 2-1, then gave McLaren (who had told them he would be leaving the big league staff but remaining in the organization as a scout) a standing ovation as they sent the most successful manager in franchise history (a .667 winning percentage!) on his way.

"I feel bad about the situation," the longtime baseball man said, his eyes welling up. "But the John McLaren Era is over in Washington."

He paused for a second and smiled.

"Is three games an era?"

Technically, no. Then again, those 72 hours - the wildest 72 hours have ever experienced - sure felt like an era.