T-Ball Is on White House’s A-List for a Day

As with all things presidential, George W. Bush began precisely on time his mission to bring Little League baseball to the White House and rekindle America’s love for the national pastime.

So at 2:45 p.m. EDT Sunday, the Satchel Paige Memphis Red Sox and the Capitol City Rockies were lined up like soldiers on their respective sidelines, taking last-minute instructions from their T-ball coaches.

“Don’t sit on the chalk line!”

“If the ball goes over the fence, that’s a home run.”

“Everybody’s going to be watching what? . . . The ball!”

It was a perfect Washington day: The sky was blue, the air was cool, the burgers were sizzling on the White House grills. Bob Costas, who usually announces major league baseball games on network television, was offering play-by-play for a live C-SPAN broadcast.

So what if the public address system cut in and out, making President Bush sound like he was on the other end of a cheap cell phone. (“I want to --ank your parents for com-- too.”)

So what if all 15 Rockies took their positions and still not a soul was covering left field?

They were playing on the lawn where Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln probably stood, with the First Fan himself talking about teamwork and playing by the rules. And when Bush--the former owner of the Texas Rangers, the first president ever to have played Little League ball (Midland, Texas, 1955)--when he told them that baseball is a “fabulous sport,” it sounded like he really meant it.

“All right then, “ the First Fan boomed. “Let’s play ball!”

From the opening single belted by Martina Tichelle Adams, it was clear that these 5- to 8-year-old major leaguers of tomorrow knew what they were doing. Most of the time.

Rashad David Brockington popped one in the air, which was caught by the Rockies pitcher, setting up a double play and confusing Martina, who was still on first and not sure where to run. “Martina, come on back, honey. Come on back to first,” Costas prompted.

Not that it mattered. There were six outs before anybody stopped counting. In T-ball, everybody gets to bat and nobody keeps score, which makes for a joyful experience with no losers and few tears. Unless you count the parents.

“As soon as he got up to bat, I thought I was going to cry,” said Sherri Thomas, mother of Quintin J. Thomas Jr., who got out of bed at 6:30 a.m. to order Quintin J. Thomas Sr. into the shower to get ready for a game that wouldn’t start for more than eight hours.

This was the first of a series of South Lawn games, with these teams made up of 32 Washington-area kids.

The game was briefly interrupted when the visiting mascot, the San Diego Chicken, took the field, shook himself around and--the presidential presence not withstanding--pretended to lay two baseballs, sending the bench and entire outfield into hysterics.

Still, Sunday’s game had the feeling of a true passion. Bush once told Oprah Winfrey that his fondest childhood memory was Little League baseball. When asked her idea of a perfect date with the president, First Lady Laura Bush once answered: a Sunday afternoon baseball game. (Perhaps we should be grateful; Franklin D. Roosevelt’s passion was stamp collecting.)

While baseball still is popular, it has lost some of its allure with young kids because of competition from soccer, lacrosse and other sports.

“Normally a president latches onto some piece of popular culture to make themselves more popular, but you have the feeling with Bush that he’s trying to reignite a love for baseball,” said historian Doris Kearns Goodwin, herself a devotee of the game.

When it was over, the teams shook hands as Bush stood ready to present them with a historic souvenir: an autographed baseball.

But the players ran off in different directions, leaving the commander in chief alone at a little table stacked with autographed balls.

Once properly assembled, the players trotted out in alphabetical order to shake the hand of a grinning president.

What did Brittany Brooks think of the president? “He’s really tall and he looks strong. I didn’t know he would look that good.”

Quintin’s mother already had started a scrapbook; the baseball was going on a special shelf. “In your bedroom?” Quintin was asked.

Mom didn’t wait for an answer. “No, this goes in the living room.”