As we wait, breathless, for the announcement scheduled for 9 p.m. EDT from Mar-a-Lago — here’s hoping it’s to break news that the PGA is returning to Doral’s Blue Monster next March — we wonder how a certain Florida man is enduring life in the penumbra.
Tonight, if the oddsmakers are correct, will be Donald Trump’s attempt to squeeze back into the klieg lights’ favor, to once again bask in attention (if not precisely universal adoration).
Good luck with that. Americans may have developed a fondness for sequels, but success hinges on advancing the story. If the past two years are previews, Trump’s screenplay for 2024 is more The Grudge 2, and not so much Avengers: Endgame.
The spotlight has shifted, plainly and healthily, away from the angry, blustering, self-centered, and perpetually jealous gasbag of recrimination in a preposterous gold pompadour to, of all people, the man he fancies he made.
Meanwhile, Ron DeSantis continues to surf the red tsunami that not only restored him to the Florida governor’s mansion by a historic 19.4 points, but also blessed him with an all-Republican cabinet (padding the GOP’s deep Sunshine State bench) and supermajorities in the state Legislature.
The chief author of recently purple Florida’s “rewritten … political map,” DeSantis has zoomed to the top of the speculative list of GOP candidates for president in 2024.
The realization of DeSantis’ ascendant star apparently created a suite in Trump’s head accessible only by a golden escalator. While the Don lashes out with cringe-worthy nicknames, The Family warns of a bloody battlefield for anyone who gets in DJT’s presumed path. Says Fox News contributor Lara Trump, bride of Eric, urged “very smart” DeSantis to “wait until 2028” when he will, at last, be “DeFuture.”
Except: That’s not how competition works, anywhere. Nor ambition, for that matter. At 44, Ron DeSantis may be young — a kid, by recent White House standards — but he is savvy and seasoned. From a photo finish to win the governor’s race in 2018 to an avalanche re-election last week, DeSantis has for four years shown an uncanny knack for choosing, and winning, awkward political showdowns: ending COVID-19 lockdowns, getting his redistricting maps approved, expanding school choice, keeping taxes down, spanking the Walt Disney Co. for political meddling, arranging all-expenses-paid travel for Venezuelans to Martha’s Vineyard.
And — the effect of this cannot be overestimated — in record time, he got resources where they needed to be after election-season hurricanes Ian and Nicole.
But he has a glass jaw, critics fuss. Really? Based on what? There has been nothing fragile about DeSantis since the moment he took office. And it hasn’t been for lack of haymakers aimed squarely at his chin.
This was DeSantis at a news conference in Fort Walton Beach Tuesday morning, responding to a question about Trump’s recent jabs:
“One of the things I have learned in this job, when you’re leading, when you’re getting stuff done, you take incoming fire. That’s just the nature of it. …
“And yet, I think what you learn is, that’s just noise. And really, what matters is, are you leading, are you getting in front of issues, are you delivering results for people, and are you standing up for folks, and if you do that, then, nothing of that stuff matters.
“That’s what we’ve done. We’ve focused on results and leadership.
“At the end of the day, I would just tell people to go check out the scoreboard from last Tuesday night.”
Early polls — very likely premature polls, in truth — indicate Republican voters in critical primary states have been avid scoreboard watchers, not just in Florida, but in races where Trump-endorsed GOP candidates failed in entirely gettable contests.
Everybody loves a winner. That’s why the spotlight finds them.
