Oops . . .

The result–and this is no exaggeration–is the worst speech in the history of politics. Ever. Brozak stands at the podium, facing the camera, with one shoulder tilted forward. He narrows his eyes into a glare. And he assaults his text. With his left arm rigidly stuck to his side, his right hand waves wildly in the close-fisted point that they teach you these days during the first hour of Public Speaking 101. It’s supposed to be a gesture that’s strong, but not threatening. But in Brozak’s hands, it’s frightening and ludicrous and wildly entertaining. The train wreck goes on and on and on.

Why, you might ask, would Bill Richardson and Terry McAuliffe give this plumb speaking slot to an unproven biotech executive running for a House seat in Jersey district that’s probably safe for Republicans? The Associated Press has the answer: ” Last year, upset by GOP attacks on such military veterans as former Sen. Max Cleland of Georgia, Brozak abandoned his party.” Oh, and he’s in the Marine Reserves. It’s a little bit cruel that the Democratic party would throw this poor guy to the wolves, just to be able to pimp out his résumé for the evening.

IF YOU SAW the look on Al Sharpton’s face as he strutted onto the stage immediately following Brozak, you could tell exactly what he was thinking: Chump.

The DNC gave Sharpton the worst possible lead in and, for his trouble, told him he could have only six minutes of their precious time. So the reverend told them he would deliver this speech. For the first few minutes, Sharpton stayed with the text–you could see him following along with the prompter, but then he took off, and delivered one of the best political speeches I’ve ever seen.

For nearly 20 minutes, Sharpton held the attention of every soul in the Fleet Center. He moved the audience where he wanted them, when he wanted. It was electrifying.

Much has been made of Sharpton’s skill as an orator–all of it deserved–but you can’t do what he did without the words. Whoever wrote that speech deserves a job in the White House. And if Sharpton was improvising, as some of my colleagues suggest may have been the case, then watch out: His days as a running joke are drawing to an end.

One side note: Immediately following The Rev.’s performance, TV screens filled with pundits and anchors, their faces all knitted in concern. Sharpton had gone over his time! He had hijacked the convention! He had used a negative message that was sure to anger John Kerry!

This is clearly a case of conservative media bias. Sharpton did nothing out of bounds; he said nothing that conflicted with the tone of the convention. All he did was give Jesse Jackson heartburn and deliver the best speech Democrats have heard in 20 years. Good for him.

NOT SO GOOD for John Edwards. Back in New Hampshire, I noticed that while he’s a naturally gifted politician, Edwards can, once in a while, come across as a slick, unappealing lightweight. This wasn’t a major concern, of course, so long as he didn’t pick his speech at the Democratic National Convention to have an off day. Oops.

Edwards was not terrible. He was rocky; he had some nice moments; he had bad patches. The problem is, he’s supposed to be the guy that added panache to the ticket. Kerry is the one who gets to be “not terrible.”

First things first: Whoever runs the speech shop at Team Kerry, needs pry the “?” key off of Edwards’s speechwriter’s computer. Whenever Edwards asks rhetorical questions, his worst features come out: the smarm and condescension. “Aren’t those the traits you want in a commander in chief?” “Aren’t you sick of it?” “You can’t save any money, can you?” The vice president is not supposed to be the nation’s first-grade teacher.

Edwards rushed the parts of the speech that should have been majestic (“Some of our friends and neighbors saw their last images in Baghdad. Some took their last steps outside Falluja. And some buttoned their uniform for the final time before they went out to save their unit.”). He also had problems with his timing on the call-and-response sections, (“Help is on the way” and “It doesn’t have to be that way.”) which are always tricky.

As a piece of writing, the speech didn’t aim particularly high and had some off-putting tropes. The destitute single mother at the kitchen table was neither imaginative, nor evocative. (She also prompted another Edwards kindergarten question: “She’s thinks she’s alone. But tonight, in this hall and in your homes–you know what?–She’s got a lot of friends.”) Also, the decision to end with an appeal to race didn’t make much sense in the context of the speech.

The Democrats in the Fleet Center seemed to like Edwards’s speech well enough, but he certainly didn’t overwhelm them. The cheering throughout was more than polite, less then raucous. (Except following the line about keeping “a safe and secure Israel,” when the applause was decidedly tepid.) Towards the end–right after “John and I believe at our core that tomorrow can be better than today”–delegates around the bowl of the Fleet Center began quietly murmuring and kibitzing, adding a quiet peas-and-carrots hum for the final few paragraphs of the speech.

And I may be imagining this, but when Edwards finished, the Stevie Wonder song which came up over the Fleet Center’s speakers sounded twice as loud as any music I’ve heard them play this week. My hunch is, they were trying to cover over what sounded like a less-than-thunderous ovation.

Like I said, I could be making that up. It’s just that on the long trek out of the arena, I heard more delegates talking about the Black Eyed Peas than John Edwards.

With only a small VP bounce and a flat convention performance to his credit, Edwards has one big chance to redeem himself: his debate with Dick Cheney. Who knows, but the time that rolls around, a Dump Edwards campaign may be underway.

Jonathan V. Last is online editor of The Weekly Standard.