WASHINGTON — I have a confession to make. I’ve been unfaithful — to my Chicago Cubs.

It’s true. Although I am a die-hard, long-suffering Cubs fan, I have been sneaking around a corner of southeast D.C. with the younger, sexier, more exciting Washington Nationals and loving every minute of it.

I’m not the only guilty party. There are thousands like me. Given its transient nature, Washington is a town full of baseball lovers, but they are fans of other teams. Every other team, in fact.

So we transplants were overjoyed to see baseball return to the nation’s capital in 2005, not only because we could go to major league games without making the hourlong drive up the Baltimore-Washington Parkway to Camden Yards. It was also because it meant our National League teams would come to town for at least one series a year — more, if you had a favorite in the N.L. East. The American League teams would make an occasional visit as well, with the park packed when the Yankees or the Boston Red Sox traveled down the Acela corridor.

But as so often happens with affairs of the heart, what started out fairly innocently became something much more serious. One day you are going to the games just to watch baseball and have a good time, and suddenly you are deeply involved with the Nationals and their hard-not-to-like lineup, managed by the learned and lean Davey Johnson.