BEXLEY, OHIO - During his three-minute chat Tuesday with the man introducing him to 3,300 supporters at a campaign rally here, President Obama achieved four must-dos in every politician's instruction manual.
Display familiarity: "Steven!" Obama called out, striding over to a nervous Steven DeBusk, 26. "You're a BMX cyclist? I've been watching those guys on TV during the Olympics."
Display arcane knowledge: After DeBusk said that he does not race around the track like in the Olympics (although he has, he said, learned to fall on his shoulder instead of his rump), Obama nodded. "Yeah, you ride freestyle," he said, stunning the Capital University senior with his apparent knowledge of the difference between street BMX and the track runs.
Use available prop: Seconds later, Obama turned to his body man, Marvin Nicholson. During the Olympics, "they were falling all over the place, weren't they?" Obama said. Nicholson nodded vigorously.
Show you've paid attention: Two minutes and 53 seconds into the interchange, Obama patted DeBusk on the back and said, "Break a shoulder!"
It is campaign season, and Barack Obama is on. He is relaxed. His squeamishness about edgy partisanship is gone. He does not start late or run over.
In Bexley, he jogged onstage exactly on schedule with "City of Blinding Lights" by U2 playing and the crowd cheering. "Hello, Crusaders!" he shouted, using the name of the university's sports team. If his remarks are supposed to start at 1 p.m., then at 1 p.m. they start. A week ago in New Hampshire, he even started 54 minutes early.
In a re-election campaign in which his mostly multiracial crowds are smaller than in 2008 (he is no longer the fresh new face, and the Secret Service frowns on those 100,000-plus throngs), Obama is a scheduler's dream, a walking, talking, handshaking, baby-hugging prototype of efficiency. He takes less than a second to shake a hand and in 10 seconds can polish off seven greetings.
