The singular phenomenon that has become known as Barack Obama became such because a large segment of the (Democrat) voting public interpreted his words, his demeanor, his aura, even his physical presence as being something other than the typical politician's.
Ironically, he was seen as a White Knight astride a sturdy steed gazing down upon his mud-covered opponents. He was clean; they were not. Although obviously in the fray, he somehow seemed simultaneously above it. He alone was the non-scumbag of the bunch---his passionate desire was to win, not to destroy. Somehow, people could not envision him in some hotel room being counselled by such creatures as Rove or Carville or Penn or Rollins. Barack was clean, no steroids, no HGH. It was the other guys who were "juiced," not him.
Maybe Bill Clinton was correct after all when he described the Obama-phenomenon as "a fairytale."
If he suddenly decides to play on HRC's turf, he's giving up the home-field advantage. She and her team are the undisputed heavyweight champs of mud-wrestling. And maybe, in the final analysis, politics is the ultimate form of mud-wrestling. But perhaps a potential president needs a little dirt under his fingernails to handle the job he or she is seeking. And, if that is the reality, Barack must enter the ring.
As an idealistic, overly romantic fool, the White Knight scenario captures my heart. And yet, the pragmatic, realist side of me is not totally convinced that rolling in the dirt with dogs is the way Barack is going to win.