Bradley's political star waned on wasted chances
Over the past week, presidential hopeful Bill Bradley has had the rare privilege of reading his own obituary - political that is.
Dozens of articles have outlined a defeat that on Tuesday became a reality as Vice-President Al Gore crushed from coast to coast his chances of winning the Democratic Party's nomination.
Now, visibly tired and jaded, the former senator from New Jersey will consider his limited options over the next days, and undoubtedly ponder what lays ahead of him after his expected withdrawal from the presidential race today.
Mr Bradley's demise looms like a classic tale of wasted opportunity.
As a liberal candidate, he seemed to have everything. His political biography is almost without peer.
Small-town banker's son turned Rhodes Scholar, with an MA degree from Oxford University; fame and respect at an early age as a basketball career took him from the Olympics to the New York Knicks; 17 years as a respected senator; and a supportive, striking German wife, Ernestine, who is a world-ranked scholar in her own right.
He is also independently wealthy, with a personal fortune estimated at US$16 million (HK$124 million).
After the controversial Clinton years and up against a rival often portrayed as a 'cynic' and a 'fake' who represented the status quo, Mr Bradley offered a gentle dignity, a restrained outrage and a promise of a more meaningful approach to issues such as health care, campaign finance reform, poverty eradication and race relations. With a track record on race dating back to his ball-playing days, he won endorsements from the likes of basketball great Michael Jordan.
Yet when his opponent Mr Gore rose to the challenge and launched some blistering attacks, Mr Bradley never regained the initiative and did not fight back until it was far too late.
He did not, for example, unleash his advertisements featuring Jordan until the very end.
His qualities rapidly became failings. His above-the-fray approach degenerated into aloofness and, at times, arrogance. He refused virtually all intrusions into his private life - unthinkable given the insatiable demands of the modern electorate.
He refused to even name his favourite book, film, pop song - bread-and-butter questions leapt upon by other candidates as a chance to appear both warm and human.
He also brushed off some of America's most powerful political reporters.
He could be just as vague on the stump, by turns biblical and scholarly as he churned out the parables in a slow, meandering fashion, frequently failing to connect with all manner of audiences from nurses to schoolchildren.
'He had it all, but just didn't use it,' said Maryland backer Diedre Katz. 'I have been urging him on, but he's done nothing to excite.'
