North Star Writers Group - Syndicated Commentary: Opinion, Humor and Features

October 6, 2008

Beat Me in St. Louie: Palin Outpunches Biden in Debate Thrilla

“Candygram for Sarah!”

That supersized box of chocolates – oh, and roses, too? – in Governor Palin’s dressing room just arrived courtesy of Gwen Ifill.

What book on Obama?

Because the great whooshing sound you heard was the air being sucked out of any other issue in the presidential race by the supernova that is the GOP veep nominee.

As the First Hockey Mom might have put it, didya notice the helpless grin that kept appearing on Joe Biden’s face?

Hmmm. I’d seen that telltale look before. Oh, yeah. 1984. When Fritz Mondale was watching his presidential ambitions being knocked out of the park by the Gipper’s riff that he wouldn’t “exploit the youth and inexperience of my opponent.”

And just as was the case 24 years back, you could read the body language in the reluctant but appreciative chuckle.

“I’m sunk.”

The previous week’s Obama-McCain debate, though admirable in its depth and informative nature, was an Olympic boxing match – an elegant affair where the protagonists are cocooned in headgear and a touch counts as much as a roundhouse right.

Unfortunately for the senior senator from the First State, this one was the Thrilla in Manila.

As in that epic battle, no knockout . . . but blows raining so fast and furiously that one fighter was ultimately unable to answer the bell for the final rounds.

Say it ain’t so, Joe.

After a painful week trapped in the goldfish bowl – and being nettled by Tina Fey, Katie Couric and a covey of cowardly conservative commentators – Sarah Barracuda was on the prowl again. And putting a badly off-balance McCain campaign back on track.

There she was . . .

Confidently bouncing into the ring and breaking pre-debate protocol by asking over a live mike if she could call the veteran solon “Joe.”

Shredding Biden’s listless laundry list of Obama’s requirements for the bailout bill – by speaking to soccer parents’ and small businesses’ fears about sending the kids to college or financing inventory.

Alchemically transforming her running mate’s seemingly mistimed assertion of the economy’s fundamental strength into a song of praise to American workers – while slipping in a stinging jab comparing Mr. Biden’s 30-plus years in the Senate with her fresh energy.

Indicting “predatory” mortgage lenders – then movingly appealing for personal responsibility for our own financial destinies.

Smashing back charges that John McCain was a rampant deregulator with a reminder of his lonely quests on tobacco and campaign finance – and invoking her own well-earned unpopularity with energy company CEOs.

Zinging the Senator on his suggestion that paying taxes is patriotic – while driving home the opposing ticket’s record as big-spending revenuers and Biden's as a flip-flopper on Iraq.

Confidently pricking the Fey-inflated “airhead” bubble – by offering to provide “details” on McCain’s health care plans.

Unabashedly chiming in with her party’s “drill, baby, drill” mantra – while tweaking “East-Coast politicians” who want to lock up abundant offshore energy supplies.

Adroitly turning a question on Alaska’s same-sex benefits policies into a mini-referendum on gay marriage – complete with a politically correct bow to tolerance – that forced Biden to “me-too” her position.

Holding her own with the Senate Foreign Affairs chairman on issues ranging from Israel to Iran – while displaying enough pot-calling-the-kettle-black chutzpah to repeat McCain’s charge about Obama’s “dangerous” inexperience. And even showing sufficient confidence to ask for extra helpings on Afghanistan.

Charmingly reminding the Dem VP nominee of his past offer to serve as McCain’s running mate – devastatingly putting him in his place for his constant backwards references to Bush policies – and then touchingly suggesting Biden’s wife will earn a “reward” in Heaven for her devotion to a teaching career.

And up she soared . . . inspiringly holding forth on the creed of American Exceptionalism – and not once, but twice invoking Ronald Reagan.

All the while, she punctuated her presentation with those folksy “betchas,” “darns” and “doggonits” – not to mention disarming, Reaganesque head shakes. And she lovingly used the camera to direct-connect with Middle America via those big doe (no, not moose) eyes and that megawatt smile.

Two words – hubba, hubba. And I mean that in a purely political sense.

This is to take nothing away from a well-prepared and game Senator Biden. He got his swings in. Joey Danco’s unfilled gas tank. A choking reference to his son’s serious accident. His priceless putdown of McCain’s health plan as the “ultimate bridge to nowhere.” He may have even led on straight points.

But his worn, squinty countenance and lecturing manner – versus her combination of adept counterpunching, sunny optimism, and youthful energy (including a hip “shout-out” to a class of third-graders)? No contest.

His too-clever-by-half insistence that he and Obama were budget-reforming tax-cutters and anti-terrorism warriors – and laughable insistence that McCain, of all people, was wrong on Iraq and Afghanistan – versus her admittedly rehearsed but still resonating recitations of her running mate’s convictions and record of reform?

Fuhgeddaboudit.

Like Joe Frazier at the close of his classic third bout against a faster, fitter Ali, Biden was pretty much in punching-bag mode by the time he wearily slogged through a repetitive and pedestrian summary.

Ding, ding, ding.

Unlike Ms. Ifill, not saved by the Belle.

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