For that matter, the whole day had to have been a big disappointment to the leader of the free world. He probably has to wake up real early to have any time at all with the wife and kids, then get the skinny from his chief of staff about Vladimir Putin’s latest mischief before he OKs another drone attack on an al-Qaida operative.
Then it’s another fight with the Speaker of the House over health care, a coup in Thailand and another Democratic senator who’s complaining that unless Obama supports a pipeline in his state, a Republican will be elected in November.
You know, same old, same old.
But then he gets a chance to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, and his heart leaps at the prospect of seeing the uniform Hank Aaron wore when he hit his 715th home run, the one that broke Babe Ruth’s record.
Aaron has his own room at the Hall, filled with memorabilia. So, for that matter, does Ruth. But there’s little time to see them, other than a peek at Ruth’s bat.
And what about the St. Louis Browns uniform of Eddie Gaedell, who was only 3 feet, 7 inches tall and wore No. 1/8 when he walked on four pitches in his only plate appearance? No time for that, either.
Obama got just a quick tour of the building, but you don’t “tour” the Baseball Hall of Fame, you linger, you visualize, you appreciate.
I mean, what a bummer. Just when you start thinking that being president has some pretty good perks, you get rushed out of the Hall of Fame, onto Marine One for a helicopter ride to Rome, N.Y., then a flight on Air Force One to Chicago for a couple of Democratic Party fundraisers.
Then, instead of being able to regale Michelle and the girls with how they would have loved the Diamond Dreams exhibit about “A League of Their Own” and women’s baseball, you sadly call them and tell them about your speech promoting international tourism.