WITNESS: Playing hardball at the Republican convention

A general news correspondent with Reuters in the United States, Andy Sullivan has covered hurricanes, executions, elections, scandals and computer hackers. He has been with the company since 2000. In the following story, he describes playing baseball with lawmakers and lobbyists at the Republican event.

By Andy Sullivan

MINNEAPOLIS (Reuters) - Washington reporters may be widely mocked for not playing hardball with the city's politicians and lobbyists, but I got my chance on an actual baseball diamond with actual baseballs.

That's what the Republican National Convention is all about -- the chance to party with the powerful in unlikely settings.

If, as the saying goes, Washington is Hollywood for ugly people, the convention must be its Cannes. Most of the real business this month happened behind velvet ropes far from the convention hall in St. Paul, at hundreds of glitzy parties in nightclubs and hotel ballrooms.

And evidently at baseball parks like the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, home of the Minnesota Twins.

Though baseball has been eclipsed by football in Americans' hearts, the older sport has retained its status as a cultural touchstone, not to mention as a lazy metaphor for newspaper columnists looking to extol the national character.

Nothing happens much of the time in baseball, and some of the best professional players sport beer bellies. Baseball's demands are gentle enough even khaki-clad Washington types can play.

Georgia Rep. Phil Gingrey, sporting a red jersey with his name on the back, works on his swing with a Twins hitting instructor.

Former Secretary of Energy Spencer Abraham heads to the buffet along the right-field line.

Behind the batting cage, California Rep. Elton Gallegly chats with former Twins' great Tony Oliva. A lobbyist for Microsoft hovers nearby.

Logos of the event's sponsors -- Microsoft, AstraZeneca, the National Sand, Stone & Gravel Association -- flash on billboards in the outfield.

It's the kind of scene that gives heartburn to ethics watchdogs, who say exclusive events like these allow lobbyists to build up goodwill that ensures lawmakers will take their calls.

After a series of lobbying scandals earlier this decade, the House of Representatives tightened ethics rules so members and staffers must pay market value for gifts they receive.

That inspired some creative legal thinking by those throwing the parties. For example, the Distilled Spirits Council of America augmented its liquor-and-cigars bash with an educational message about preventing underage drinking.

Sponsors of the batting practice event still buy blocks of tickets but they don't get to hand them out to lawmakers and staffers, who now attend for free, said event organizer LeeAnn Petersen.

NOW BATTING

Suddenly, it's my turn to hit.

"Now batting, Andy Sullivan from D.C.," the loudspeaker says as I stride to home plate, Louisville Slugger in hand.

I can see the seat in left center field where the late Kirby Puckett's game-winning home run landed in Game 6 of the 1991 World Series. It seems miles away.

I'm as short as Kirby, but that's about all I have in common with the Hall of Fame outfielder. I washed out of Little League when I was nine.

So I collected plenty of advice as I prepared for my Major League debut: "Elbow up, level swing," said former Twins catcher Terry Steinbach.

"Keep your weight back," said Abraham, the former Energy Secretary.

"Try to take your turn after an old guy, preferably a congressman," my friend Jonathan advised.

The first pitch comes in, low and outside. I make contact, but the ball dribbles foul. I connect on the second pitch with a meager ground ball to second.

Fortunately, there are few witnesses to my ineptitude. Organizers sold 1,000 tickets but expect only 400 people to come.

The Metrodome, an antiseptic facility used for football as well as baseball, doesn't have the same appeal as the marquee ballparks used at other conventions, like Chicago's Wrigley Field in 1996 and Boston's Fenway Park in 2004. Furthermore, many events have been rescheduled to avoid the appearance of unseemly partying as Hurricane Gustav hit Louisiana.

Today's batting practice conflicts with a luncheon for the same crowd -- members and staffers of the House of Representatives Energy and Commerce Committee. Hopefully they're not watching as I foul another pitch off.

"Two more," says a bat boy.

Rattled, I miss the next pitch completely. Finally, I hit a high popup to shallow left field, a sure 'out' if the shortstop had been paying attention.

Not at all Kirby-esque, but it'll have to do.

(Reporting by Andy Sullivan, Editing by Frances Kerry and Sara Ledwith)