30 Minutes ago in Texas, George W. Bush was confirmed as…See more

“The Tip-Off: George W. Bush’s Unexpected Return to the Court”

It was a warm Texas evening, the kind that clings to your skin and makes the air hum with anticipation. The Dallas Wings were set to open their season, and the arena buzzed with fans, families, and the unmistakable scent of popcorn and possibility.

No one expected history to be made.

Thirty minutes before tip-off, the announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers, cutting through the chatter. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… the WNBA’s first-ever Honorary Commissioner… President George W. Bush!”

The crowd froze. Then erupted.

Out strode the 43rd President of the United States, wearing a custom Wings jersey that read “Dubya for Three.” He grinned like a man who’d just pulled off the best prank of his life. And in a way, he had.

From Oval Office to Free Throws

Bush’s appointment wasn’t just ceremonial—it was symbolic. The league cited his long-standing support for women’s sports and his viral 2023 appearance at a Wings game, where he’d enthusiastically demonstrated his free-throw form to a roaring crowd. That clip had made the rounds on social media, earning him the affectionate nickname “Coach Bush.”

Now, he was back—not as a politician, but as a cheerleader for equity, visibility, and the power of sport.

“I figured I’d finally take a job where the plays are actually bipartisan,” he joked to the press, drawing laughter from reporters and players alike.

A League on the Rise

The WNBA had been gaining momentum—more viewers, more sponsors, more voices demanding respect. But it still faced hurdles: media coverage gaps, pay disparities, and the constant battle for recognition.

Bush’s appointment was a curveball. Some saw it as a savvy PR move. Others saw it as genuine advocacy. But everyone agreed—it got people talking.

Former First Lady Michelle Obama tweeted, “Who’s got next? (Seriously, this is awesome.)” while Brittney Griner welcomed Bush with a cheeky, “Hope you like dunking on Twitter trolls, sir”.

The Freedom Ball and Other Duties

Bush’s role wasn’t just symbolic. He was tasked with ceremonial tip-offs, advocating for expanded media coverage, and—perhaps most charmingly—designing a special “Freedom Ball” for the 2024 All-Star Game. Inspired by his painting hobby, the ball would feature abstract portraits of iconic WNBA players, rendered in Bush’s signature brushwork.

“I promise no hanging chads on the scoreboard,” he quipped, referencing his infamous 2000 election moment.

Then, in true Texan fashion, he joined Wings players for an impromptu three-point contest. He went 1-for-10. The crowd roared anyway.

A Moment Bigger Than Basketball

For many in the arena, the moment transcended sport. It was about visibility. About a former president using his platform to amplify women’s voices in a space that had long been overlooked.

It was also about redemption. Bush’s presidency had been polarizing. But here, in this arena, he wasn’t a politician. He was a grandfather, a Texan, a fan. He was a man who believed in the power of sport to unite.

And maybe, just maybe, he was rewriting his legacy—one jump shot at a time.

The Players’ Perspective

Inside the locker room, reactions were mixed—but mostly amused.

“I never thought I’d share a court with a president,” said Wings guard Aaliyah Thompson. “But he’s got heart. And that jersey? Iconic.”

Veteran forward Marissa James added, “If he can help us get more airtime, more respect, I’m all for it. Just don’t ask him to coach.”

The Critics and the Conversation

Of course, not everyone was thrilled. Some questioned the optics. Others worried it would overshadow the athletes themselves.

But even critics acknowledged the impact. “He’ll bring more attention to the league in one week than most politicians do in a lifetime,” said one ESPN analyst.

And that was the point. The WNBA didn’t need saving—it needed spotlighting. And Bush, with his unexpected charm and viral appeal, was the unlikely torchbearer.

A Presidential Seal of Approval

As the game tipped off, Bush took his seat courtside, flanked by Wings staff and young fans. He clapped, cheered, and occasionally leaned over to ask about the rules.

When the Wings scored a buzzer-beater in the third quarter, he leapt to his feet, arms raised. The crowd followed.

It wasn’t about politics. It was about joy.

Legacy in Motion

As the night wound down, Bush addressed the crowd one last time.

“These ladies don’t get fooled at all,” he said, echoing his famous Bushism with a wink. “They play hard, they play smart, and they deserve every ounce of respect we can give.”

Then he turned, walked off the court, and disappeared into the tunnel—leaving behind a league forever changed.

Epilogue: The Curveball That Connected

In the days that followed, social media lit up. Memes of “Dubya for Three” flooded timelines. Sports blogs debated the move. Political pundits scratched their heads.

But for the WNBA, it was a win.

Bush’s appointment wasn’t about erasing the past. It was about embracing the present—and investing in a future where women’s sports are front and center.

And in that sense, the curveball had landed perfectly.