Two wins against the defensively challenged Washington Nationals must be a source of pride for Baltimore Orioles’ fans, but they’re unlikely to quiet the outrage and disgust that permeates the Baltimore faithful. The Orioles are on track to match the epic futility established by some of baseball’s worst teams: the 2003 Detroit Tigers (43-119), the 1962 New York Mets (40-120), the 1904 Washington Senators (38-113) and (who can forget?), the 1899 Cleveland Spiders, whose record of 20-134 remains unmatched. The Orioles, despite their two recent wins, might well match the ’62 Mets or ’03 Tigers — or the ’09 Nationals, who tabulated 103 losses. The O’s losing ways are particularly grisly for fans who remember the franchise of the 1970s, viewed as one of the most successful in baseball, a fact highlighted by yesterday’s celebration of the 1970 version of the O’s. The 1970 O’s had one of the best pitching rotations in baseball history (well — nearly so) and the “two Robinsons,” Brooks and Frank, who hit for power, average, and drove in runs. Cal Ripken and Rick Dempsey then became the face of the franchise and defined it. Unfazed by bumps and bruises, the two were very different and very much alike. Both were desperate to win.

Those days are gone.

So what’s wrong in Baltimore? While baseball analysts talk of poor drafts, poor development, poor scouting, “a culture of losing” and an indifferent owner, a not-very-close study of the O’s young players shows an Andy MacPhail bias that is hard to defend. MacPhail, the former President and CEO of the Chicago Cubs (and the former “boy wonder” of the Twins’ of the 1980s) has brought Wrigleyville east — to Baltimore. If you don’t believe me, check the O’s roster. Journeyman lefty Will Ohman was drafted by the Cubs in 1998, spent time with the Dodgers and Braves, but then came into Baltimore — an Andy MacPhail idea. If Ohman looks around he’ll see a lot of former teammates: Jake Fox (Chicago to Oakland to Baltimore), Scott Moore (who came, with Rocky Cherry, to Baltimore from the Cubs), Corey Patterson and Felix Pie (great hopes in Chicago, before failing), tweaky armed Rich Hill and lots-of-promise Lou Montanez, the Cubs first pick in the 2000 draft. There are others, squirreled away in the minors or nursing injuries on the DL. But this is good enough: evidence that MacPhail favors those he knows — even if they’re products of a dysfunctional organization.

MacPhail isn’t alone in trading for his bias — Mike Rizzo is as partial to the outliers of the Arizona Showboats as Jim Bowden once was to the farm system of the Cincinnati Reds. But there are limits, and MacPhail seems to have reached them. Felix Pie may or may not someday be a great outfielder (as the Cubs once thought), but it’ll probably be someday. Rich Hill is a talented lefty, but the Cubs decided they couldn’t wait for his arm to be surgically reattached. Jake Fox is a pretty fair ballplayer, but the fact that Billy Beane was anxious to move him (for pitcher Ross Wolf, who apparently hasn’t pitched since 2007) oughta tell you something. Corey Patterson looks good now (.273, 3 HRs), but he’s never been able to hit anything but a fastball his entire life and Rocky Cherry — well, Rocky Cherry is gone. That leaves Will Ohman, Luis Montanez and Scott Moore. All of them are serviceable. Ohman is a tough competitor and Montanez and Moore might actually make good ballplayers some day. But let’s be clear, in the AL East, guys like Will, Monty and Scott aren’t going to win you any pennants. Or lift you out of the cellar.

It took a while for Andy MacPhail to wear out his welcome in Chicago, in part because the Cubs had sunk so low. But eventually fans of the North Side Drama Queens turned against him. He seemed to lack the “feel” for young players who could turn into something. Cubs fans now refer to those twelve years as “the reign of terror,” but only because after more than a decade at the helm in Wrigleyville the MacPhail version of the Cubs had proven to be, well, the same old version of the Cubs (their record under MacPhail’s leadership was 916-1011). MacPhail’s first round picks in the first year MLB draft included such memorable names as Ryan Harvey, Todd Noel, Ben Christansen and Bobbie Brownlie. The development and scouting department that MacPhail put in place consistently failed to produce home grown products and, when they did, they couldn’t quite believe it — MacPhail traded them in a panic to fill immediate needs. Like Jon Garland, whose trade to the South Siders (for God’s sake) left Cubs fans spinning in despair. You could hear the screams from the bars on Division Street all the way to Wrigley Field: “For Matt Karchner. Matt  f-ing Karchner.”

Last week on the radio, Peter Gammons said that he’d heard that there were two lists of candidates for the manager’s slot in Baltimore. The first list, he said, was “the Peter Angelos list” and the second was a list kept by Andy MacPhail. At issue, apparently, is the power that a new manager will have. Gammons and just about everyone else thinks that, to be successful, Angelos and MacPhail need to bring in someone who knows how to handle young players and will have the run of the system. Someone who will have “complete power.” The phrase hints that what Baltimore’s Birds really need is a baseball man who can overrule the decisions of Angelos and MacPhail, and bring order out of chaos. But ask yourself: how likely is it that either a former abestos lawyer and his sidekick enabler (who are, after all, responsible for this debacle) will cede power to a manager who can veto their decisions? The final verdict will tell the tale. Orioles fans desperately need a guy like Buck Showalter, but if Angelos and MacPhail get their way, they’ll probably get Eric Wedge.

This wasn’t suppose to happen. When Baltimore Orioles’ owner Peter Angelos cast the sole dissenting vote against moving the Montreal franchise to Washington, D.C. — on December 3, 2004 –he was confident the new Nats would be as incompetently run as the old Expos. He had reason to be optimistic. The Nats of 2005 looked like an impoverished third world trustee: poor, and destined to stay that way. Not only had the Expos’ farm system been looted by MLB’s appointed overseers, the Nats’ new owners were a Selig-annointed tight-fisted bunch of bean counters who knew nothing about baseball. Selig’s strategy was clear: the last thing baseball needed was a winning franchise in Washington to muck-up baseball’s New York-Boston license-to-print-money axis of television revenues. As for Bud’s pal Peter — well, he could be paid off and then (pockets bulging with dough) praised for being one of MLB’s self-sacrificing boys. In that order. Angelos was only too happy to comply, imposing “the worst TV deal in all of sports” on the Lerners that was the equivalent of the requirements imposed by the IMF on a debt-ridden South American state. I swear. By the time the Nats took the field at RFK, the team looked like an Angelos step-child, to be brought out on occasion as proof of his all-American sacrifice, but never successful enough to be bragged about.

So, how’s Peter doing?

The Orioles are mired in one of their worst seasons ever, their fans are staying away in increasing numbers, Angelos has picked a fight with franchise legend Cal Ripken and the truce between the team owner and former Baltimore Sun beat writer Ken Rosenthal has broken down. Let’s start at the top. The O’s are 5-18 and sinking fast. Their best infielder (Brian Roberts) is injured, rising young star (Felix Pie) is out until at least June, the team has one (count ‘em, one) young good starter (Brian Matusz) and free agent starter Kevin Millwood is a bust. The bullpen is a disaster (expensive closer-to-be Mike Gonzalez is injured), and manager Dave Trembley’s post-game appearances are now watched by masochists who get their kicks by seeing middle aged men break into tears. The savior was supposed to be Andy MacPhail, who Angelos hired to be the O’s head of baseball operations, but the otherwise talented MacPhail is now apparently on the hot-seat, the result of the O’s April meltdown. “When a team continues to founder like this,” one Baltimore Sun beat writer opined, “eventually the mobs with the pitchforks and flaming torches show up at the front office and demand change.”

Ah . . .  well . . . “the mobs” are already there. Savvy Birds Watcher and influential Birds’ Blogger Nestor Aparicio, who led a 2006 fan-based “Free The Birds” movement (complete with black t-shirts and a walk-out of an O’s game), implies that while good ball clubs are “strong up the middle,” good franchises are strong at the top. Which is to say: the problems with the Orioles start not on the field, but in the front office — with Peter Angelos. “It’s hard to argue with the promise of Matt Wieters and Brian Matusz,” Aparicio recently wrote, “but virtually every other facet of the organization is still inflicted with the cancer of Peter Angelos and his values, strong will and old-world vindictiveness and deceit regarding everything from the banning of free speech in the media to jacking up ticket prices to taking away scalp-free zones to shunning the legends of the team’s heritage and brand.” Many, many others agree. B-More Birds Nest defines Angelos [pee-ter ~ ann-gel-ose] as “1) to ruin baseball, to make it uninteresting, 2) a lawyer who should be sued for false advertising, and 3) a d–che bag.”

For Nationals fans, the spiraling failure of one of baseball’s proudest franchises brings some odd solace, as well as a sense that the arc of the universe does (though rarely) bend towards justice. The Nats are no longer the mid-Atlantic’s orphans, the O’s no longer dominate the “we’ll show you how it’s done” tone of MASN “Battle of the Beltways” broadcasts and (compared to Angelos), the Lerners look absolutely enlightened. From top-to-bottom, the Nationals are the more competently run and better franchise. While O’s fans are busy plotting ways to walk away from baseball in Baltimore, the Nats are anticipating sell-outs for a revived team that has better pitching, hitting, speed and defense — and a closer who’s not on the DL. Think of it: five years after baseball’s step-child showed up at RFK, the premier baseball franchise in the region is not the Baltimore Orioles, it’s the Washington Nationals. But Nats’ fans shouldn’t be too proud, or too happy. Not only were we once the worst team in baseball, but the MASN deal means that Nats’ fans are actually subsidizing this mess.