No, the worst day on record was the day of the third debate, in which Randall had given a lackluster performance, Lydia had crushed him and the election had been lost by the re-emergence of the Sherry Boyd story. Michael would put money on the fact that day was going to make the top ten worst days of his life whenever he got around to tabulating them. The following days had been pretty bad too. But the worst part—the absolutely most fucking annoying part—was that there was no mercy rule in politics. They had to play the full four quarters even knowing they were going to lose. There were, after all, other Democrats on the ballot running for the Senate, the House, governor’s mansions, state legislatures, dogcatcher positions, etc. They’d canceled or changed media buys, tweaked their GOTV and generally rearranged their schedule. No one wanted to appear with the Randall anymore—fancy that! No one wanted him in his or her district. The Democratic nominee for president had become a pariah.
