This was written on Monday, the opening day of the 1953 baseball season. It has been customary for the first game of the season to be played in Washington, D.C. one day earlier than all the other games. At the same time it has been customary for the president of the United States to attend this game and throw out the first pitch.

This year, however, the president was not around for opening day ceremonies. He took off for Georgia to get in some golf and sent Vice President Nixon in his place. Had it not been for some rain which washed out the entire proceedings, a factional fight between devotees of the diamond sport and those favoring the links might have been started. As for me I'm impartial in the dispute.

As it worked out the first game in Washington will be played today and President Eisenhower, apparently heeding the clamor about his absence, will cut short his Georgia trip and be present to toss out the first ball. By this action Ike just saved himself a half million votes in Brooklyn.

This business of throwing out the first pitch is quite a ritual that goes back to 1912, when William Howard Taft performed the duties. It has been done by every president since, though some have not enjoyed the routine and were decidedly bored by it all. Yet they went through with it.

Ike should do the same, particularly since this is the national sport and he is in the first few months of his term. Next year he could beg off and send Vice President Nixon, as he did this year.

Apparently the chief executive was not proud of his action. When Clark Griffith, head of the Washington ball club, called at the White House and gave Ike a lifetime pass, the president accepted it but declined to toss the first pitch. He didn't say where he would be, but it didn't take much probing to find out he would be a Augusta trying to get his game into the 80's.

It's evident Ike prefers golf to any other sport. He is the first president to began digging divots in the White House lawn while he sharpened his approach shots. On top of that he even went so far as to paint an old painting of Bobby Jones, the golf immortal and give it to him at Augusta.

As I said, I'm impartial in the dispute. I like golf and baseball. On some summer Sunday afternoons that poses quite a problem as to which sport to enjoy. Of course, when it's hot there is no problem. Baseball can usually be watched in the shade, while to play golf it is necessary to tramp around in the hot sun.

With Mrs. Cub, though, there is no question at all. She's all for golf and finds baseball dull, though did tag along to see a couple major league games with me in Chicago and Boston on an eastern trip.

So last Sunday afternoon, with the sun shining, off we went to the local links. The flags aren't up yet and the grass hasn't started to grow much, but there were also a few others out on the course. We had the oldest pair of our tribe along, ostensibly to caddy, it more it turned out to let off steam running up and down the hills in the exuberance of spring.

Mrs. Cub hasn't had much chance in the last three years to play golf, what with family additions arriving at the height of the golf season. But this year it is different. We now have plans for a weekly match on the links.

The Appleton Press, April 16, 1953