President`s Case Of Locker Jaw

October 29, 1985|By Mike Royko.

I`m not sure which president of the United States began the practice of phoning locker rooms after games to congratulate victorious athletes.

It definitely wasn`t Calvin Coolidge or Herbert Hoover. For some reason I think it might have been Richard Nixon. Or maybe Nixon was the first to call a locker room to try to fix a game.

But whoever started the tradition, this past World Series has made it clear that the time has come to stop.

For one thing, the novelty value is gone. In the beginning, a president phoning a locker room and his conversation being broadcast to the world was something that caused people sitting in front of their TV sets to say, ``Oh, my goodness, Nora, isn`t that something? The president is actually talking to Lefty McSpeed. Say, I wonder if they had an office pool in the White House.`` Now it has become just another part of the postgame ritual, as predictable as the champagne being poured on heads and some ego-tripping franchise owner saying what a happy family he has created.

And with more and more sports on TV, presidents have taken to calling more and more locker rooms. It`s now expected after the World Series, the Super Bowl, the basketball championship and assorted college bowl games. What`s next? Soccer? Bowling?

Worst of all, though, the players and managers no longer seem to be aware that they`re talking to the president of the United States, the leader of the free world, the most powerful man on Earth, the top banana, the big enchilada. In the early days of the White House-to-locker room hook-ups, the players and managers gave the appearance of appreciating the solemnity of the moment. They would look properly respectful as they listened, phone to ear, while the president said something like:

``Lefty, this is the president speaking.``

``Yes, Mr. President.``

``I want to congratulate you on a great victory over a worthy opponent. You are a credit to the game, an example to the nation, and a blah, blah, blah for all the blah, blah, blah.``

``Thank you, Mr. President. We`re mighty proud.``

``And the nation is proud of you and your team, Lefty.``

``And we`re proud of the nation, Mr. President.``

``And I`m proud of you and the nation, Lefty.``

``And we`re proud that you and the nation are proud of us, Mr. President.``

``Thank you, Lefty.``

``Thank you, Mr. President.``

But now, as the conversation Sunday night demonstrated, the president barely squeezes in a word.

There he was in the White House, drowsily waiting around in his pajamas for the game to finally end so he could get some sleep.

His writers had prepared his congratulatory message, as well as some observations on the game to give the impression that he had actually watched it. And a few small jokes to show that he can be one of the boys, ha-ha. And when the phone call went through and the network was hooked up, he was ready to do his thing.

Instead, the manager interrupted to babble about what a fine bunch of dedicated guys he had on his team--as if for $1 million a year to play bat and ball they should be anything but dedicated. And the star pitcher interrupted what appeared to be the beginning of a witty presidential remark to giddily yammer at length about his wife giving birth.

They said the same things to the President that they would have said to any yahoo with a microphone in his hand.

As a result, Reagan sounded befuddled and never got to finish his remarks.

And when the President`s call ended, I almost expected to hear the players say, ``Hey, who was that--Howard Cosell?``

That`s no way to treat a president, even a president who sounded half asleep.

So in the future, I hope he and his successors will stop calling locker rooms, or at least pass along the chore to an assistant. And the message should be kept short and simple. Something like:

``This is the head of the federal drug enforcement office calling on behalf of the president. He says congratulations. And I say don`t pour anything in your nose.``