I've been a loyal Nationals fan since they arrived in D.C. in 2005. I've supported them through eleven seasons and two short lived Post-Season runs, and I plan to support them for many more seasons and hopefully some Post-Season or World Series wins.

Thank you for helping me to find my lucky number.

Growing up doing theater, I learned plenty of superstitions, but it wasn't until choosing my favorite player that I solidified my lucky number--eleven. Ryan Zimmerman, the team's third baseman (until recently when he became the first baseman), was both my crush and my inspiration to embrace the number eleven. Now, I see it everywhere and I embrace it.

Thank you for giving me unforgettable memories with my family.

I was never the athletic kid, so spectating gave me precious bonding time with my parents and my little brother. Whether it was cheering for Teddy during the President's Race or fighting to catch free tee shirts during the seventh inning stretch, my family was always there to laugh along with me. Looking back, I remember my summers fondly as trips to and from Washington D.C. to see the Nationals play.

Thank you for putting my face on a jumbo-tron in front of 40,000 people.

For years, I competed to win "Fan of the Game." It was a fun competition in which three super fans would dance, cheer, and wave to the camera for about a minute. These clips would be played for the crowds between innings, and the fans' cheers would choose the winner. I competed seven times and never won, but it's always fun to tell my friends that my face has been on that screen.

Thank you for teaching me that losing is a part of the game too.

My mom and I were there for Game 5 of the NLDS (National League Division Series) in 2014 when the Nationals lost, and I was watching the game on TV when the same thing happened during this year's NLDS against the Los Angeles Dodgers. There's nothing like leaving Nationals Park after a loss like that. The oxygen seems to be pulled out quickly, and suddenly everyone's in desperate need of a shot of espresso. You want to cry and scream at the other team (and some of their inevitably obnoxious fans), but those things won't change the outcome of the game. I learned the triumph of winning and the heartbreak of defeat from eleven seasons of cheering on my favorite team.

Thank you for reigniting my love for Washington D.C.

Growing up in a suburb of the nation's capital, school field trips became exhaustingly routine trips to Smithsonian museums. Becoming a Nationals fan reminded me of the amazing things that Washington D.C. has to offer, from museums and historic sights to breathtaking views of the city and an electric, powerful, political energy that can be hard to find anywhere else.

To my Washington Nationals and the eleven seasons we've shared, thank you.