To: puborectalis who wrote (637182 ) 10/3/2004 4:46:19 PM From: puborectalis Read Replies (2) | Respond to of 769670 Republicans use Kerry's love of windsurfing as a metaphor for weakness of character. But in the midst of an increasingly unpopular war in Iraq, Kerry has tacked to the popular position—especially with Democrats who had been lukewarm to his candidacy until now. Last month he used two lofty speeches on foreign policy to maneuver himself out of a statement he had made only a month earlier—that, even knowing there were no WMD in Iraq, he still would have voted for the Senate resolution authorizing the president to use force there. Then, last week in Miami, Kerry said that the right response to Saddam Hussein would have been to tie him down with inspectors—Howard Dean's position of a year ago. Even more boldly, the senator defended his vote against the $87 billion funding bill as a form of principled protest. "The base wants an antiwar candidate," says Dan Payne, a Democratic media consultant who worked on Kerry's Senate campaigns. Now, as the debates move on to the ground of domestic and tax issues, Kerry strategists are hoping to outflank Bush from the opposite direction, arguing that three years and $2 trillion worth of tax cuts have left the country without enough money to fight the war in Iraq properly—or to defend the ports, roads, airports and borders from terrorists. Kerry advocates a "rollback" in the tax cuts for those earning $200,000 or more—and is planning to portray Bush's defense of the well-off as a threat to national security. The president obliged the Kerry team by raising the topic of taxes in the debate, implying that Kerry's homeland proposals would bust the budget. That was Bush's "biggest gaffe," said Kerry aide Michael McCurry. Kerry jumped right on it in the give-and-take. "We didn't need that tax cut," he said. "America needed to be safe." The roots of Kerry's Miami victory reach deeper than war news and his own wiliness. Even as they tried to lower expectations, his inner circle couldn't escape the sense of certainty—expressed as early as last summer on Nantucket—that their guy would win the confrontations. He curbed his habit of calling all manner of friends and advisers, limiting his contact to a small circle led by debate briefer Ron Klain, traveling aide John Sasso and speechwriter (and former collegiate debating champion) Bob Shrum. They gathered for practice in an aluminum shed on the House on the Rock Resort in rural Wisconsin. Ever the serious student, Kerry staged four mock debates at night in recent weeks, videotaping his performances and timing himself with a stopwatch. He carried a set of huge briefing books with him, methodically studying the material. The emphasis wasn't on substance—the man knew it cold—but on brevity. After each mock debate (Washington lawyer Greg Craig played George Bush), Kerry would sit on the edge of the stage, analyze his performance and hone his answers. Kerry's aides were so confident that they had schooled him in concision that they used his reputation as a windbag to play—and win—an expectations game on debate day. They say they circulated a bogus rumor: they were upset about warning lights on the podiums, fearing their blabbermouth candidate would be bathed in flashing red. In the end, it was Bush—not Kerry—who ran afoul of the strict time limits and earned a blinking light. The attitude in the president's camp, by contrast, had been comparatively nonchalant, stemming from the mistaken belief that the spotlight would rest only on Kerry—and that Bush was playing a home game on the topic of the first debate, defense and foreign policy. The president's predebate schedule was filled with other matters, including a visit to Florida hurricane victims the morning of the showdown. He also managed to do some biking and fishing—both because he enjoys those sports and because his advisers wanted to demonstrate Bush's confidence in his own views. "He knows his positions," Dan Bartlett, the White House communications director said. "You don't have to memorize something you believe in." But belief alone wasn't enough to carry him through the debate—or the hurricane of critical spin after it. An impatient character, Bush kept shifting his weight and sipping water. He sometimes scribbled notes so furiously with an oversize Sharpie pen that photographers in the wings could hear it squeaking. While briefed on main points—he had listened to audiotapes of Kerry—Bush made more assertions than detailed accusations. Republicans fretted afterward that he had been overcoached, stifling his genial personality.