The Rookies

This time, it counts? Click to enlarge.

When President George W. Bush threw out the first pitch at a World Series game at Yankee Stadium shortly after September 11th, it was the high moment of his presidency elegant, manly, dignified, and stirring. For President Barack Obama, and for ESPN, a first pitch at an All-Star Game is apparently a betting matter. Never mind that there’s a storied history of presidential pitches or that Obama has done this before. This is new, and bigger, which is why Obama must say things like this:

“You know, my general strategy, the last time I threw a pitch was at the American League Championship Series and I just wanted to keep it high,” he said. “Now, there was no clock on it, I don’t know how fast it went — but if it exceeded 30 miles per hour, I’d be surprised. But it did clear the plate.”

The idea of sports as exhibitions of machismo ties in neatly with Obama’s struggles to prove he is more than an effete intellectual as a media narrative, which is why so much has been made (sometimes very smartly and artfully) of his basketball jones. And this comparison between Bush and Obama is unavoidable because Obama is basically the only thing reporters report on anymore and because Bush’s successful pitch was so high-profile. That would become an inextricable part of the hype over any president’s pitch, but it is amplified for Obama, who, as a political entity, exists in counterpoint to the Bush administration. But in this realm, Obama competes not just with his public perception and his predecessor, but with a moment that is totally insurmountable. The confluence of events that led to Bush’s strike required skyscrapers to fall and lives to be lost; if not for the immense grief in New York that night, something neither I nor anyone on Earth should wish on a city or a people, that pitch is not as stunningly timeless. Obama will have the highest profile first pitch since that one, but his will be at a stadium named for a beer company his former rival’s wife used to own; he will be a Chicago boy, and not even a fan of the hated Cubs, on Cardinal turf. To expect him to rival the staggering transcendence of that snapshot of America is folly. However, even though it is funny, I don’t think deflating expectations require trivializing it as such. This is not a sports moment: It’s a function the head of state is required to perform. And I would hate to see a possessor of a long streak lose on something as asinine as betting on whether a 47-year-old southpaw from Hawai’i can groove one to Albert Pujols, then lay into Obama on ESPN’s message boards. To their credit, the people discussing the bet at the moment are merely adorably fixated on ESPN’s game rather than the ugly invective possible with such a politically sensitive item, their confidence in Obama strong and their failure to make the “THIS IS MORE SPORT THAN THE WNBA FIST POUND BRAH” reassuring. (Though, frankly, I continue to be surprised that ESPN will cozy up to Obama after the fussiness of last year in regards to objectivity.) But setting this up as a pass-fail dichotomy when nothing will compare to the majesty of Bush’s moment isn’t even remotely valuable to anyone, and almost as dumb as making a story of this in the first place. So, Mr. President, I give you the advice you don’t need: Tonight, throw a strike. (A hat tip to Adam Berry for tweeting about this.)