GAITGATE STRUCK at the top of Grafton Street.
And it had all been going so well.
With the cameras and microphones closing in, the last thing Michael D wanted was a chance encounter with a knee surgeon anxious to inspect his limp. The man could have said anything.
To make matters worse, Labour’s candidate for the presidency had just torn up and down the street like a hot favourite in the Galway Plate. But now, his impressive bilingual gallop was hanging in the balance thanks to the intervention of smiling Stuart from Pennsylvania.
Would the orthopaedic surgeon bury poor Michael D’s croí at Wounded Knee? His backers looked on anxiously as their runner swivelled a fearful eye at the friendly visitor, not sure whether they were about to hear the all-clear or witness the screens going up around the presidential aspirations of their political thoroughbred . . .
It’s been a relatively easy course for Higgins thus far. While other candidates have been subjected to a lot of tough questioning about various aspects of their pasts, he has maintained a statesmanlike distance from the debate.
The only issue that has been raised is his physical ability to do the job, much of it centred on a leg injury he sustained last year when he slipped on wet tiles during an aid agency trip to Colombia.
So the 70-year-old has been belting on and off his battle bus with all the energy he can muster, assuring everyone that his leg is on the mend and he’s more than fit for the fray. It’s a process of attrition and yesterday, at an impromptu press conference outside St Stephen’s Green, nobody raised the subject.
This will have come as a relief to his handlers.
Instead, he was asked about his income.
It’s getting ridiculous, as candidates fall over each other to account for every ha’penny they ever earned. It can only be a matter of time before they offer full details of their communion money.
Heaven knows how Bertie Ahern would have coped had he made it to the ballot paper.
Higgins outlined how much he got from his pensions, threw in the price of his house in Galway and what he earned from his literary endeavours.
“The two poetry books have been declared for tax purposes,” he said, adding with a sad sigh: “The income was minimal”.
Then, with his campaign team in place, he set off on a swashbuckling hobble through the city’s premier shopping thoroughfare.
There was the obligatory stop at the flower sellers. At the first one, the woman fled. “Who is it?” she asked a bystander. “It’s one of those presidential feckers.”
There’s a high recognition factor for the Galway politician, and yesterday, it spanned all age groups.
His team propelled him into a group of giggling Trinity students, who seemed pleased to see him, posing happily for photographs. Lynn Kenny from Glenageary, Julianne O’Sullivan from Dartry and Louise Flanagan from Rathmines reckoned they might give him a vote.
So you like Michael D then? “Is that his name, Michael D?” A shiny young Labour worker ran over to them. “Do you have something short and snappy to say that we can put up on twiduur?” Lynn rose unblinkingly to the Twitter challenge. “He’s a really good speaker and really friendly.”
American tourists were very taken by the twinkling little man causing the commotion. “Wow! And he’s a poet too?”
The spoonplayer with the old wooden dancing dolls was guaranteed a visit. Hugh Murphy from Dunleer told Michael D that music and dancing is very good for people under pressure. He plays on Grafton Street because it’s “a good pastime” and the wooden dolls are an old Irish tradition that should be kept alive.
The candidate threw a few bob in his hat. “Supporting the arts,” remarked a Labour supporter, a touch smugly.
If they don’t watch themselves they might start becoming cocky.
Minutes away from the safety of the battle bus and Stuart Gordon materialised. He’s been on holiday here with his wife and they’ve had a ball.
He’s an orthopaedic surgeon in Pennsylvania and saw Higgins on the Late Late Show. He wanted to talk about the gammy knee.
Michael D repeated the story of his big accident south of Bogotá.
“Did you have the kneecap tied together with wire?” “With wire, yes . . . the wire is still there, yes. It can be taken out later. Yes. I’m galloping along now.” Stuart said he thought he was doing very well. He told us how pleased he was to hear Michael D’s story and to see “how vital he is and how brave he was when he had the knee surgery”. At this point, the handlers’ knees gave out. With relief.
“This is because of the wonders of modern orthopaedic surgery techniques and because he has a lot of heart,” continued surgeon Gordon.
And the prognosis? “He has a bit of a limp but he seems to have a good gait and he has a nice, nice cadence to his gait.” (Never mind the poetry.) In his opinion, Michael D’s knee is good for at least another six years.
Stuart’s wife Marianne took a photo of the candidate. “He’s so cute.” She’s a gastrointestinal doctor. “I look into people’s colons.” Whereupon cute Michael D sprinted for the bus.
