Get Me POTUS On The Line

Fans of the West Wing (that's everyone, I assume) will remember that the original pilot episode contains a string of difficult and embarrassing situations for Sam, the White House deputy communications adviser (played by Rob Lowe). The most difficult and embarrassing is that he spends the night with a woman whom he discovers only the next day is what he euphemistically describes as a "high-priced call-girl". He makes this discovery because, after their tryst (whatever that means), they each inadvertently leave with the other's pager. During the next day, Sam receives a number of interesting and surprising requests, whilst his new girlfriend receives a number of mysterious messages from "POTUS". She takes this to be a friend with an unusual name, until Sam points out that the messages are from the President of the United States.

As my regular reader(s) will be aware, The Referee sees part of his mission to be painstaking research on aspects of American culture, such that you, dear reader, are able to benefit from my travails without the trouble of having to put in any effort. Now, I would like you to think that this involves me pouring for days over historical tomes in the Smithsonian library, but that is not always the case. In fact, it's never the case.

This occasion is no exception. In this message, I am proud to bring you the summarised highlights of what I have been able to glean from one of my children's plastic, easy-wipe place-mats, entitled "Presidents of the United States of America".

Firstly, although we are currently enjoying/experiencing/enduring (delete as applicable) the tenure of the 43rd POTUS, the current President is in fact only the 42nd person (by which I mean "white bloke") to have held the office. That is because Grover Cleveland (a Democrat and later a '70s soul singer) was President on two separate occasions: 1885-89 and 1893-97, separated by a stint from Benjamin Harrison (Republican).

Coincidentally, Cleveland and Harrison both appear in perhaps the most historically significant sub-category: serving Presidents who sported facial hair. A number of Presidents deserve an honourable mention on this point, but the most salient facts are perhaps the following:

* shamefully, it has been almost a century since we have been blessed with a President who displayed any facial hair whatsoever - well done to William H Taft (R) (1909-1913);

* before Taft, citizens of the USA enjoyed an unprecedented 40 year period in which all Presidents were facially hirsute - back to and including the splendidly-named Ulysses S Grant (R) (1869-77) - with the disappointing exception of the hopelessly clean-shaven William McKinley (R) (1897-1901);

* before Grant, the only incidence of Presidential facial hair was thanks to the one-and-only Abraham Lincoln (R) (1861-65), who was famously the only President ever to sport a beard without a moustache; although an honourable mention should be made of Martin Van Buren (D) (1837-41) who sported flamboyant and unruly sideburns;

* only five Presidents have sported full beard & moustache combinations: Grant, Harrison, Rutherford B Hayes (R) (1877-81), James A Garfield (R) (1881), and Chester A Arthur (R) (1881-85) - although it should be noted that Arthur's was one of those beards that is all edge and no middle, and therefore the purist might prefer to assign him to a separate list all his own;

* only three Presidents have favoured a solo moustache: Cleveland, Taft and Theodore Roosevelt (R) (1901-09).

In case you are looking for some political significance here, and heaven knows why you wouldn't be, it should be noted that, of the nine Presidents to have sported some sort of facial hair (not including Van Buren's sideburns), eight have been Republicans - well done once again to the marvellous Mr Cleveland, the only Democrat of the bunch.

On matters hirsute of a more general nature, there is not a great deal to write home about, except for the admirable James K Polk (D) (1845-49), who favoured what fans of 1980s British football would describe as a "mullet". With some regret I have to report that there has never been a completely bald Leader of the Free World, although the consecutive pairing of Harry S Truman (D) (1945-53) and Dwight D Eisenhower (R) (1953-61) at least made a nod in that direction, so to speak.

The only other President who made any serious effort to lose his hair whilst in office was John Quincy Adams (1825-29), whose father was the second President, John Adams (1797-1801), and who therefore shares with the current President the distinction of keeping it in the family.

On a more serious note, four Presidents died in office of natural causes - William H Harrison (Whig) (1841), Zachary Taylor (Whig) (1849-50), Warren G Harding (R) (1921-23) and Franklin D Roosevelt (D) (1933-45). Harrison (whose designation as "Whig" has nothing to do with his slightly dubious comb-over) has the distinction of being the shortest-serving President ever, at a rather minimalistic one month. That makes 1841 one of only two years ever to see as many as three serving Presidents: Van Buren, Harrison and John Tyler (Whig) (1841-45); the other being 1881 (Hayes, Garfield and Arthur).

The splendid and grandfatherly FDR - forever immortalised by an ugly and permanently-congested dual carriageway running down the east side of Manhattan - shares with Benjamin Harrison and Lyndon B Johnson (D) (1963-69) the distinction of sharing the surname of a former President without having been his son.

Four Presidents were assassinated: Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley and, of course, John F Kennedy (D) (1961-63), who, like the second Roosevelt, has the distinction of being immortalised in a somewhat inappropriate transportation landmark - in his case, New York's largest and most-infuriatingly congested airport.

Only one President has ever resigned: Richard M Nixon (R) (1969-74), who fell on his sword after testing positive for a banned performance-enhancing steroid.

Finally, and perhaps most significantly of all, only one POTUS shares his name with a former Crystal Palace striker sold to Everton this summer for GBP 8.6M - step forward Andrew Johnson (D) (1865-69).

I don't know about your hopes for November 2008, but personally I'm holding out for Hillary v Condi. At least we wouldn't have to worry about the facial hair.

Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Converted A Penalty

No hope, no harm, just another false alarm.
Last night I felt the semi-finals around me.
No hope, no harm, just another false alarm.
So tell me how long, before the next one?
And tell me how long, before the right one?
This story is old, I know, but it goes on.
And on.

With apologies to Mr S Morrisey, another ignominious loss to Portugal on penalties at the quarter-final stage is not exactly what The Referee had predicted (see my message of 15 June). Nevertheless, that prediction was based on empirical scientific evidence, and you can't say fairer than that. Needless to say, I will be going back to the proverbial drawing-board to check my calculations.

In the meantime, a thought: if we lose to Portugal on penalties in the quarter-finals for a third time, do we get to keep the wooden spoon?

Whilst you're pondering that, I am pleased to report that US interest in the World Cup of Association Football, at least in the NY area, appears not to have been dented in the slightest by Team USA's early exit, which was hastened considerably by the penalty kick awarded to Ghana on the basis that the USA's new promising central defender, Oguchi "Gooch" Onyewu, was apparently guilty of being tall and well-built in the penalty area.

On the contrary, most locals that I speak to about such things appear to have been "rooting", as they like to say here, for other teams as well as their own. I have been pleasantly surprised to note that England has often been the favoured choice of second team (and sometimes first team), particularly since we are "celebrating" independence this week.

In case you are finding that concept difficult to grasp, I can tell you that, over the weekend, not one, not two, but around half a dozen of our American friends and neighbo(u)rs sought me out in order to say variously that they were (i) sorry that England had been eliminated, or (ii) disgruntled with penalty shoot-outs (or should that be "shoots-out"?) in general terms, or (iii) not particularly enamoured with the sort of sportsmanship that involves running halfway across the pitch in order to point out to the referee (rather than The Referee) that an opponent really might appreciate a brief glimpse of the redder of his two cards.

In defence of our Portuguese friends, and in a spirit of fairness, I felt obliged to explain that, in "soccer", it is not generally considered appropriate to stamp on the delicate parts of one's opponents, whilst accepting that in "football" it is considered almost essential.

Having agreed on that balanced approach to things, my American friends have largely been content to return to more important matters, such as following the Mets v Yankees weekend series, or organising the 4 July fireworks.

How long, indeed.