John Quixote's impossible dream gets even more impossible.
Governor John Kasich was in a good mood. The crowd in Syracuse had been warm and welcoming and a new poll showed him falling further behind in New York.
"Losing is the new winning, guys," he told a gaggle of reporters outside Le Moyne College's Athletic Center. "Our plan is to take our 143 delegates to an open convention and win this thing. 143 is the new 1237!"
Governor, isn't it time to suspend your campaign and just go back to Columbus?
"Hello life, goodbye Columbus," he chuckled. "You fellas remember that? Bad movie, but a pretty cool song. No, I'm not suspending anything. We've got the 'Big Mo' happening here. We picked up zero delegates in Wisconsin. Why would I quit now?"
Governor, just what is your strategy if this race ends in a contested convention?
"This is how I'm gonna do it. First, you guys forget that the convention will be held in Cleveland. I got home field advantage there that's worth at least two touchdowns. Secondly, I don't need a strategy, because I have a secret formula."
Secret formula? Can you tell us what it is?
"It's secret. But I can tell you it's a pretty gosh darn powerful formula. It's got some Mongolian ginseng in it plus a pinch of unicorn horn powder. And that's all you're getting out of me."
Kasich ran towards his campaign bus and waved to a few supporters in the parking lot. "See you in Rochester!"
It had been a very long day, but John Weaver, the hard-charging campaign senior strategist, was nice enough to sit down with us after tucking the Governor in for his nap.
"Wisconsin was a killer," Weaver sighed, "and even John knew he'd had a bad night. Frankly, he's been off his game since then, a little out of sorts and depressed. So we put him on a regimen of gummy multiple vitamins and a powerful ant-psychotic. Hope it helps mitigate the night sweats and the delusions.
Mr. Weaver, is this off-the-record or do you want us to print this?
"Sure. Print it. Who knows? This kind of news might help him with the Haldol-popping crowd. Let me be blunt, gentlemen. This campaign is dead in the water. We're hoping the Governor will wise up and quit the race after Tuesday."
"Hey guys!" Kasich shouted as he jogged to the front of the bus wearing an old powdered wig on his head. "Mind if I join you? I just finished reading all the soup can labels in the kitchen."
Weaver moved over one seat to make room for the Governor.
"You like the wig? Trump's wife is always telling him to 'be more presidential,' so I thought I'd beat him to the punch. Makes me look like George Washington. I think I'll wear it for the next big rally."
"Take the wig off, Governor," Weaver growled. You're not wearing it."
"Okay... How about the fez? ... Oh man, this campaign needs to loosen up. C'mon, let's have some fun!"
Kasich jumped out of his seat and ran to the back of the bus.
Weaver was almost in tears. "Listen, John's been a great governor -- he balanced the budget and created more than 300,000 jobs -- but nobody really gives a shit. It's sad to see him like this."
"Hey fellas!" Kasich yelled as he scrambled towards us like a gawky teenager. "Look what I got... Lincoln Logs!"