It has not been a good month for John Kerry, now that the full wrath of the Avignon presidency has landed upon him. He has been accused of not bleeding enough to earn his first medal, and of inconsistency in the way he treated his subsequent medals.
As you may recall, back in 1971, Kerry threw some medals over a fence in Washington, D.C. Of course, at roughly the same time, George W. Bush was throwing up over a fence in (perhaps) Alabama. I don't think the hurling issue redounds to the credit of the White House, but what do I know? I thought that having someone who talks to a famous reporter about his conversations with his "higher father" while standing a few feet from some very important buttons would scare the everlasting bejesus out of people, pardon the expression.
Nonetheless, Kerry has not been anywhere near quick enough on his feet so far. I mean, honestly, here's the president talking about having a high father -- as opposed to a lowdown brother, which would be Neil. (Back in the steamer trunk, Neilsie!) Here's the president's favorite policy hot-cha gal comparing abortion-rights demonstrators to terrorists. (Ten Minutes From Normal, indeed. And several miles beyond its sister city, Sane.) These are very big fish in extremely small barrels here.
I know part of the problem: Kerry has brought aboard some career hacks from the commonwealth, God save it. Some of these guys worked for Michael Dukakis back in 1988, and they're only now getting back in the game because it's taken them 14 years to get back those parts of their respective anatomies that were still lodged between Jim Baker's teeth. Nice to see these guys back at the helm of another campaign. It's like spotting Captain Joe Hazelwood a pitcher of martinis and another oil tanker.
What is abundantly clear is that Kerry's hired the wrong guys from Massachusetts. There's only one man, only one true leader, who's fit for the kind of battle in which Kerry has found himself.
His name is Belichick. Bill Belichick.
Quite simply, we here in Massachusetts believe in Bill, who has led us out of the wilderness and through two Super Bowls. We believe in Bill with a constant faith that makes Tim LaHaye read like Jacqueline Susann. Our devotion is whole. It is complete. In Bill we trust.
Consider what he's done. In Cleveland, he was run out of town under a hail of derision. Now, in a conversion not dissimilar to that wrought by Laura and Jesus in a certain former Yale party animal, Bill stands astride his world. He excels at turning defense into offense, in using an opponent's primary weapons against it. A man who can blunt the St. Louis Rams, tie up Steve McNair, and turn Peyton Manning into a liability would have no problem making hay out of the public yapping of Karen Hughes, the dark designs of Karl Rove, and the efforts of the Crisco Kid, John Ashcroft, to keep our nation secure from the assault of marble mammaries.
Bill's credibility is golden now. Last year, he drafts a nose tackle and a tight end. This year, after winning another Lombardi Trophy, he drafts a nose tackle and a tight end. A foolish consistency? An unseemly predilection for big, fat guys and muscle lumps who can run and catch? No. Undoubtedly, it is a brilliant spasm of deep thinking that will be rewarded as the days grow short next December. Bill is simply smarter than we are.
Also, he brings in running back Corey Dillon from Cincinnati, whose reputation is one level above that enjoyed by, say, Elliott Abrams in certain precincts of Guatemala. Is he going back on his oft-stated desire to coach "character" players? That would imply that Bill has made -- shh! -- a mistake. (Unlike the president, who only says he can't think of any mistakes that he's made, Bill simply doesn't make any. He speaks and we obey.)
Admittedly, Bill's politics are a bit of a mystery. He's a Wesleyan man, so he's got that small, New England, liberal-arts-college thing going for him. In addition, Belichick has hinted more than once that he's a Democrat, and Rush Limbaugh once called the Patriots "socialists," because they were introduced as a team before the Super Bowl in 2002. And he's a Bon Jovi fan, which can mean anything at all. But he's driven and focused, and he's coldly maniacal about winning. That's all that's needed for the moment.
Do I overstate? In a political culture in which Fred Barnes is a thinker and Tom Brokaw a historian? Please. It's time for John Kerry's campaign to join the faithful. We, too, follow our higher father. I suggest it's time for the junior senator to adopt the first public expression of faith shared by all New England since the Pilgrims landed in Plymouth, beginning our long historical march toward jobs our uncles can get for us on the county-road crews.
WWBD?
What Would Bill Do?
Charles P. Pierce is a staff writer for The Boston Globe Magazine and a contributing writer for Esquire. He also appears regularly on National Public Radio.
