Maybe we've been unfair to Enda, writes Miriam Lord, who watched him meet the people
Once savaged, twice shy? It's been a huge effort for Fine Gael to recover from the severe mauling they suffered at the last election.
Persuading his badly traumatised party to sit up in bed and manage a lightly boiled egg was about as much as the new leader could hope for in the dark days.
Four-and-a-half difficult years in rehab have passed. In that time, Enda Kenny has travelled the country, counselling the wounded and nourishing the grassroots. The convalescence has gone well. On the surface at least, much better than most onlookers would have predicted.
In 2002, all the fight went out of Fine Gael. The foot soldiers gave up. Dispirited and in disarray, a sense of failure pervaded the camp. The implosion was humiliating.
Who would envy Enda Kenny, taking over such a shambles? Indakinny. Electric Enda. A low- watt politician promising to power up a dying party with massive jolts of energy. At best, he might help the Blueshirts discover their hidden beige.
But wait. Maybe we've been unfair to Enda. Judging by the first of 10 Fine Gael pre-election rallies due to take place in the next few weeks, Ronseal Enda has done exactly what it said on the tin.
The energy is back.
He went down a storm on Thursday night in Cork before a packed hall of 750 noisy supporters. An even bigger crowd is expected in Castlebar on Monday night, when the Fine Gael leader addresses his home crowd.
Yesterday, he toured Cork East, beginning with a walkabout in Cobh. Again, he confounded expectations, proving a natural on the flesh-pressing front. This early evidence would suggest Bertie Ahern will not get the walkover conceded on the hustings by Michael Noonan last time out.
Interestingly, members of the public are greeting the Fine Gael leader by his first name. A significant breakthrough.
In bright sunlight - which might account for the good humour and forbearance of those strangers accosted for a word - Enda worked Cobh's main street, grabbing passers-by with all the bonhomie and brass neck of a Bertie at full throttle.
Babies were pummelled. Young women hugged. Oul' fellas slapped on the back. He lit upon two men sitting in a van and for a frightening moment, it looked like he was going to drag them out and kiss them.
"What are you delivering anyway?" he asked. "Fitted kitchens," said they. A discussion ensued.
An elderly lady tried to sidle past, looking the other way, so close to the wall she was tiddling the bricks. "Ah, there's a decent woman!" exclaimed Enda, shooting over and grabbing her by the hand. No shame. "Out doing the shopping, I see," he remarked chirpily, leaning in close.
Local TD David Stanton looked on in admiration. "Beautiful. Beautiful," he declared.
More unsuspecting victims. "Kenny's the name," announced the Fine Gael leader. "Jaysus, I could have sworn it was Enda," giggled one of them. "He's a fine looking thing." At this point, we began to wonder if this wasn't a headquarters set-up.
Local branch organiser Maura Buckley, quite beside herself, ran into the shop and whipped the biggest Valentine card she could find from the display and presented it to her political sweetheart. She put it back when he left. Memories of 2002 and all that.
Clearly electrified after the previous night's rally, it was Maura who primed a student at the local community college with a question. "How do you keep yourself so young-looking?" asked 14-year-old Danielle Sawani. "A clear conscience," replied the Fine Gael leader. That one was for the grown-ups.
Later, at the farmers' market, the patter and plámás continued.
Political campaigning must be the only time grown men can wrench babies from their mothers' arms and not get arrested. Two-year-old Abbie Hurley bawled as Enda held her up and cooed. She needed two soothers to get over it.
Her mother Margaret told the Fine Gael leader her job had been "outsourced". Local man Stanton stepped in. "Here's my number. Give me a buzz."
The night before, Kenny made fleeting reference to the recent job cuts in Cork. It is a sensitive issue in the county and, while he may have been careful not to appear to be making political capital from the situation, party activists are drilled to link the losses to Government performance when they are on the doorstep.
Crime and health are also two areas they are told to emphasise. "Winning with Strong Messages" was the slogan pulsing from the big screen. Supporters waved placards in the body of the hall.
Election candidates for Cork, Kerry and Waterford were rolled out, each one acknowledging their name with a dignified wave, like the past All-Ireland teams paraded in Croke Park before the finals.
There was much of bellicose talk. "This is it. After 4½ years, the election we have waited for lies dead ahead," he bellowed, in Braveheart mode.
"In the next 100 days, I want your passion to be contagious. I want your enthusiasm to be infectious.
"And everytime you pound on a pavement, knock on a door, kiss a baby, shake a hand or run from a dog, I want you to remember that the right man and the right woman is the one who seizes the moment. I want you to seize that moment for Fine Gael and for Ireland!"
It was more Louisburgh than Nuremberg. The crowd went wild.
Here's the conundrum for Enda and his handlers: how can they translate this clear ability with people to a television studio? In the main media battleground, Enda Kenny is a woodentop. His onscreen presence is a disaster.
If he masters the medium and can project some of that personality to a hostile viewing public, he has a real chance.
And Bertie might find himself with a proper battle on his hands.