The father of the president of the United States clambered gamely from the home dugout, strode former-presidentially purposefully to home plate, looked around and waited for a baseball to toss. No baseball. He walked over and chatted up a few Pittsburgh Pirates lined up on the third-base side. He looked around. No baseball. Where's the baseball?

Finally, Reds CEO Carl Lindner gave former president George Herbert Walker Bush a baseball. Bush walked to the mound. There was no catcher. How can you have a first pitch with no catcher?

You think you had a bad day Monday? You weren't the Cincinnati Reds. The Reds christened Great American Ball Park with a resoundingly awful 10-1 loss to the Pittsburgh Pirates, and couldn't even come up with a catcher to catch the ceremonial first pitch.

"Hey, Lark," manager Bob Boone ultimately said to Barry Larkin. "We don't have a catcher." Boone has tried his captain in center field this spring. Maybe the manager was hatching another plan.

The shortstop took Bush's pitch - "a two-seamer," Larkin decided - and the best part of Opening Day was officially over. Bush's pitch looked to nip the low outside corner, a great spot to hit in this new ballpark. Where, if first-day returns are meaningful, home runs will come to celebrate themselves by the hundreds. Maybe the former president could be the Reds' fifth starter.

Beyond the obvious - if you're going to invite an erstwhile leader of the Free World to throw your first pitch, it would be good to provide him with a baseball and a catcher - Opening Day proved nothing except the Pirates know how to take advantage of winds blowing out to right field.

They hit two homers that way, in the second inning. "Definitely a hitters' place," decided Brandon Larson. Yeah, if you were a Pirate. The Buccos treated the yard like it was Rumpke Park. Reds starter Jimmy Haynes gave up three home runs to a club that last year scored as often as Pee-Wee Herman. The Pirates in 2002 ranked 14th in the National League in homers, 15th in runs scored and last in on-base percentage and batting average.

Cincinnati's hitters, meanwhile, went 0-for-the-seats. Maybe the wind died down when they were hitting.

Pittsburgh led 6-0 after two innings. That allowed plenty of time to break away for a fried bologna sandwich at the concession stand. It was decent, even for $7, and a whole lot better than the regular baloney on the field.

It was a strange day. Wily Mo Pena pinch-hit a ball to left in the fourth inning that Larson thought was gone.

"I looked up to see how far in the second deck it was going," Larson said. Pittsburgh left fielder Brian Giles caught Pena's fly short of the warning track.

No one wearing home stripes thought Jason Kendall's solo blast was going out. (Kendall's homer elicited the biggest cheer of the opener, though: for the fan who threw the ball back onto the field.) Many, including Larkin and Haynes, believed Reggie Sanders' 391-foot two-run homer to center was just a long out. It landed just left of the Reds bullpen.

And so on. Either Monday was a freak occurrence, or there is some Candlestick Park karma happening at Great American.

Regardless, it will get better. Opening Day here is nothing but a kid's dream, anyway. It's a state of mind, a holiday, a parade. It's open house for all the people who won't know a baseball from a ball-peen hammer over the next 161 games. The Reds have been hosting Opening Day so long, they ought to get a mulligan when they lose.

Chalk up the first one to first-game kinks. Hardball begins today.

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E-mail pdaugherty@enquirer.com