Hillary Clinton's race, of course, was the night's biggest, but I would be chewing my fingernails watching the Senate races as well. And with so much on the line, I knew that watching the numbers drift in over the next few hours would be agony.įor so many of these races, I'd been out there with the candidates-cheered them on, given speeches standing next to them, frozen and sweated and stepped in muck right along with them. Besides, by this point, there wasn't anything else I could do to affect the election's outcome.
I wasn't on the ballot this year, so I wouldn't be huddling with a campaign team. In fact, I think I've seen that scene in the movies.īut not Bruce and me, not tonight. Someone making pithy remarks about what it means that with 2 percent of Illinois reporting, Duckworth has a four-point lead, and turnout in the Seventh Precinct is high, and so on. Lots of coffee cups and pizza boxes strewn over desks. Yeah, until I won my Senate race in 2012 I'd have guessed that a senator would watch election returns like a pro: a big group of people in a war room somewhere, multiple television screens on the walls, phones ringing, people rushing in with last-minute information. I had my laptop so I could check on the local races, and my phone so, assuming the night went well, I could make some congratulatory calls. The polls were about to close in Massachusetts, and we were about to start our Election Night ritual: clicking back and forth between news reports and binge-watching something really fun on television. Our son had hooked us on it the year before, and we'd been saving the shows until tonight-Election Night. He had the television on, with the second season of Ballers lined up. I yelled up the stairs to let Bruce know I was coming. To the people of Massachusetts, who sent me into this fight
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