"OF WHAT?":

One day nearly 30 years ago, I got a call at home from the sports department of The Washington Post.

"You said not to give your home phone number to anybody," a young news aide said. "But can I give it to the president?"

"The president of what?" I said.

"The United States."

"Okay."

A few minutes later, President George H.W. Bush called. We had chatted a bit at All-Star Games and baseball functions when he was vice president for eight years. Now he was president. While fishing in the South, he had heard, to his delight, that there was decent bass fishing near the White House. Was it true?

"Where are you, Mr. President?" I asked.

"In the Oval Office," he said.

I told him that, if he looked over his shoulder, he could almost see that fishing spot. I would get The Post's outdoors writer, Angus Phillips, to call him with the details. [...]

If any man, certainly any president, believed in reciprocity, it was this gracious gentleman for whom I was suddenly glad that I had voted. Over time, my wife and I were invited to a horseshoe-pitching contest at the White House and other sports-themed events, including a mixed-doubles tennis match with "the boys" -- that would be George W. and Jeb -- who played a spirited match with Chris Evert and Pam Shriver as their partners.

After tennis, everybody was invited back for dinner. After dessert, we were told: "Oh, go anywhere you want. Everybody wants to see the [White] House." My wife asked whether we could see the Lincoln bedroom. "Sure."

I'm not certain how many people have stolen the breakfast menu off the pillow in the Lincoln bedroom. Not saying my wife did. I did mention hidden cameras at the time. She said: "Who pays for all this stuff? The public. Us."

One day in 1990, a long white limo pulled up in front of our house -- the first and last time that has happened. A man delivered an envelope. "Knowing what a great baseball fan you are, I wanted you to have the enclosed Topps George Bush baseball card. Only 100 were made. Best wishes, George Bush."

What struck me was that, as the captain of a Yale baseball team that played for the national championship in both 1947 and 1948, a team that included three future major leaguers, Bush could emphasize whatever he wanted in the statistics and honors on the back of the card. Included was his .251 career batting average in 175 at-bats, plus his .133 average (2 for 15) in "postseason," a number that couldn't possibly have pleased him. No mention of being captain.

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