Mahmoud Ghannam shared his love for Nationals

Inside a notebook, Patricia Ghannam copied the instructions her husband wanted her to know.

That’s where Patricia can look for tips on how to take care of the lawn or how to buy a new roof. But a large chunk of that notebook revolves around the Washington Nationals, Mahmoud Ghannam’s ultimate passion, and the season ticket groups Patricia is now running in his honor.

When Patricia opens that notebook, she can read how Mahmoud ran the drafts for the groups, distributing games in as fair a manner as possible. She works through his spreadsheets and contact lists, coordinating the partnerships he used to run, now with the added headache of coronavirus restrictions on crowd capacity.

Mahmoud died March 9 from cancer. He was 61. But what he left behind for his family — and the slew of baseball lovers he worked with in those ticket groups — is a love for the Nationals that was infectious, attracting fans new and old to the ballpark.

“We talk about peoples’ legacies, and how many people really have a legacy,” Patricia said. “I mean, he’s got a legacy here. … He loved to bring people into baseball.”

When Washington’s opening day finally arrives — Thursday’s attempt was postponed due to coronavirus issues — Patricia and her family will be at the park, the place Mahmoud so enjoyed being.

They’ll see his name on the plaque along the third base side concourse, listing all the longest-tenured season ticket holders. Patricia will have her scorebook, the one she brings to every opening day. But Mahmoud won’t be there this year to help her keep track of balls and strikes whenever she needs steps away for a restroom break or a run to the concession stand.

“We’re determined to go,” Patricia said. “We’re very, very excited. But it’s going to be hard.”

Mahmoud’s passion for baseball began soon after he moved to the United States as a child in 1969. He loved history, so he learned about the Washington Senators and Homestead Grays. And when the Montreal Expos made the move to the District following the 2004 season, Mahmoud was ready.

On the first day season tickets became available for the Nationals, Mahmoud was there, one of the first season ticket holders for the franchise. Over the years, Mahmoud’s groups expanded. He added two more season plans to his total because he enjoyed the responsibility ticket partnerships involved.

It was a hobby, his wife said, albeit a time-consuming one, that involved massive spreadsheets and a recruiting pitch that Mahmoud was ready to use wherever he went. Mahmoud enlisted one group member at a little league game.

Mary Gardner, another member of the ticket group, stumbled upon Mahmoud’s partnership while searching the Nationals’ former ticket partnership site. She liked the way Mahmoud’s group operated, using a draft to pick games rather than allotting tickets based on tenure.

And when she met Mahmoud for the first time at a Panera Bread in Falls Church, Virginia, to pick up her share of season tickets, Gardner could instantly tell the effect Mahmoud had on people. He sat in a booth, Nationals hat on, and a swarm of Washington fans was gathered around him, talking and smiling.

“Not only did he love the Nats,” Gardner said, “he loved being able to share his love with other people like me, who probably couldn’t necessarily afford to take on the financial risk of an entire season ticket load.”

Part of the fun of being in Mahmoud’s ticket groups was draft night, each one held at a restaurant in Falls Church. Members would take turns picking which games they wanted to attend, with Mahmoud keeping the selection process to a tight hour so he could knock out each group in one night.

“He was such a kind man. He undertook what is a massive headache to let other people share in his love of the Nats,” Gardner said. “It was not easy to corral all of us.”

The only tickets Mahmoud would reserve for himself were the opening day seats, so he could share that experience with his family. Patricia said Mahmoud loved opening day more than Christmas or birthdays.

Missing out on last season’s opener was “devastating,” Patricia said. There was no guarantee he would’ve been able to attend games as he grew sicker, though, even if the pandemic hadn’t prevented all fans from going.

But Mahmoud did get to see Washington win a World Series, and he carried the Geico championship banner in the team’s parade — two of the happiest days of his life, Patricia said, after the births of his sons, Jordan and Evan.

And when Patricia opens the notebook filled with Mahmoud’s parting advice, among instructions on how to use the Roku remote and an explanation of the difference between a router and a modem is Mahmoud’s No. 1 rule.

Never lose the Nationals season tickets. They were such a big part of his life — now, they’ll be a big part of his legacy.