Long informative Washington Post piece on the fall of the 2015 Nats. Lotsa Mets content. (Third of three-parter on the 2015 Nats). "In Jonathan Papelbon, Nationals got their closer � and their kiss of death" https://www.washingtonpost.com/sports/nationals/trade-for-jonathan-papelbon-had-disastrous-results-for-the-nationals/2015/09/30/0aef1564-66ee-11e5-8325-a42b5a459b1e_story.html excerpt: But inside the Washington clubhouse, the Clippard trade still resonated, a point further emphasized because the Nationals would be competing against their old teammate in a pennant race. Several Nationals couldn�t rectify the idea that the club had traded away Clippard, a reliable eighth-inning pitcher, in part because he was going to make $8.3 million in his final year of arbitration. These players, speaking on the condition of anonymity, believed the financial part of that decision didn�t marry well with the seven-year, $210 million contract given to Scherzer. Now here came Papelbon, who would be guaranteed $11 million for 2016. �We thought we were building a clubhouse here with players who were going to do things the Nationals Way,� one player said. �But then they don�t keep some of those guys, and they bring in others who haven�t come up that way. What does that teach you? How does that breed loyalty?� On that Saturday morning, Werth arrived at the ballpark and looked at the lineup card posted on a bulletin board that hangs on the wall just outside the main clubhouse. Clint Robinson was penciled into left field, where Werth plays. Rendon was penciled into the leadoff spot, where Werth had been hitting. Werth�s name wasn�t on it. Throughout the season, when everyday players are going to get a day off, the manager typically finds a way to get the message to a player the night before. The player then can do with that information whatever he wants � get in a more rigorous weightlifting session that night, arrive at the ballpark a little later the next day, whatever. More importantly, a player with a day off can mentally decompress and, for once, relax. According to individuals with direct knowledge of the situation, Werth hadn�t received such a message from Williams. This wasn�t the first time, and Werth wasn�t the first veteran to experience what players considered an oversight once, an egregious error beyond that. What might have been a minor blip in a successful season became a boiling point. Incensed, Werth ripped the lineup card off the wall, bellowing that it was going to change. Then, according to several people who were present, he confronted Williams � not just about whether he would play that day but about what most of the clubhouse considered to be a chronic lack of communication with his players. Among the most jarring barbs, from Werth to Williams: �When exactly do you think you lost this team?� The incident was the most visible and vocal in a summer that had devolved into chaos. From the players� point of view, there were several problems with Williams and his leadership; communication was at the forefront. �He doesn�t talk to people in here,� one veteran said late in the year. This manifested itself in ways large and small, and many of the would-be problems ran through Knorr, the bench coach. Such a structure is typical in a major league clubhouse, with a coach used as a sounding board, a go-between, so that little problems don�t get to the manager, that the manager is only presented with major issues.