For much of the year, Deval Patrick’s chances at re-election looked iffy at best.
For one thing, Patrick had suffered a number of obvious political setbacks almost from the very instant he was sworn in as governor in 2007. For another, he was facing some tall, handsome, smooth-talking competition.
But even without a stern warning from the governor, few people who pay attention to Massachusetts politics, including those of us who work in the media, would have dared to underestimate Patrick’s, or the state Democratic Party’s, ability to win elections.
Of course, for any of us who had reservations about what might happen to the state in the hands of Charlie Baker, the former Harvard Pilgrim CEO who’d cut his political teeth in the Weld Administration, Gov. Patrick could be quite scary. Right up to the final debate, where he, presumably with tongue in cheek, apologized to his wife for having an appetite for Halle Berry movies, Patrick seemed always on the edge of a Howard Dean moment, about to do or say something so cringe-worthy as to completely kill his chances at the polls.
But again, having watched his first campaign, one in which he used his obvious smarts and verbal skill brilliantly not only to avoid trouble and limit his losses, but to inspire many of us to believe his campaign motto “Together We Can,” the safe money was always on Patrick, even when he was lagging in the polls.
As it turns out, Patrick survived a mildly bruising campaign, winning big among women voters and urban voters and showing particularly well here in the Valley. The race probably shouldn’t have been as close as it was, given that Baker was bound to lose more to independent Tim Cahill than Patrick lost to Green/Rainbow candidate Jill Stein. More important, despite the influence of the Tea Party movement nationally, the Republican Party in Massachusetts remains largely moribund, thanks in large part to the fact that the Democratic Party in this state is so Big Tent as to comfortably shelter politicians like Deval Patrick, whose corporate roots and time in the Bill Clinton/Dick Morris wing of his party killed any liberal impulses he may once have had.
But now what? After getting by Baker, did Patrick come before the camera showing even an ounce of humility, even a hint of the self-reflection we saw from President Obama last week? Was there any talk of what he’d learned in his first term and the ensuing re-election bid? Did he own any of his past mistakes? Did he even acknowledge that he’d made mistakes—that for all his flashy campaign style, his style of governing hasn’t worked very well?
Just as he had after his stunning victory in 2006, Patrick followed one of his better moments with a low, common gesture, one unbefitting a man who asks the rest of us to believe in him. In 2006, he wasn’t even inaugurated before he began lashing out blindly at the “cynics” and “naysayers” who he was sure would question him, criticize him, when he took office. In 2010, his false bravado was even harder to swallow.
“Don’t underestimate me,” he barked. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that because I’m not running for a third term, I’m not going to be pressing my agenda.”
Message received, Governor. Not that I ever doubted that you would do exactly what you wanted to do. You will pursue your agenda as you always have, whether it’s working your way up from the projects in Chicago to the elite halls of Milton Academy and Harvard University, plying your skills as a lawyer for Texaco and Coco-Cola, serving in Bill Clinton’s Justice Department or running for governor in the Bay State.
But here’s the thing: to the degree that you care about this state’s residents, particularly the millions of working class “folks” you talk about, you need also to care about the matters of style that keep driving them into the hands of guys like Charlie Baker and Scott Brown.
For example, using the imperative tense: “Don’t underestimate me.” Even if you were right to conclude that someone was underestimating you, the syntax makes you seem smug.
Sure, you are a bit smug—a smart guy, a good father, but a little smug. And, as John Kerry learned, it’s hard to hide smugness in a barn jacket or a hunter’s cap.
So that’s something else you need to work on.
