In a political and media sense, nothing has fascinated me more than the Cuomo-Trump daily reality show starring the greatest American crisis in modern history, the coronavirus. For all practical purposes, this remarkable confrontation ended today.

Cuomo, like his father Mario, is known in New York State as a kind of Jesuit governor. He can be ruthless and cruel, he also is prone to philosophical and poetic rationales for his governing, a mix of tough love and hard truths. Politics as poetry, Mario called it.

This week, Donald Trump once again proved the ancient Greeks right. He set himself on fire, and out of the ashes came a cheerful and confident Andrew Cuomo, happy to emerge from the storm and take center stage with great confidence.

When any politician says this is no time for politics, run or duck.

The dynamics of this obvious but unspoken conflict, this radical contest between two very different styles, values, and ideas about government, changed profoundly today. You can’t go wrong betting on the ancient Greeks.

Trump and Cuomo both became stand-ins for the bitter partisan divide that has been wracking the country for years. Cuomo just won himself a mighty victory.

This year, that is of great importance, and it seems to be the story none of those bloviating commentators wants to tell.

There are no longer two daily and competing focal points of the coronavirus.

Governor Cuomo is the face of our government when it comes to this hellish Pandemic. Only he and Dr. Fauci seem to want the job.

Yesterday, the missionary in Cuomo just bubbled up; he offered hope and a path into healing and the future.

The President, whose role Andrew Cuomo has now snatched from right under him, has descended into a cloud of fury, bitterness blame-tossing, and small-mindedness.

Anyone paying attention to him in this crisis now is brave and at risk.

These two tough and ambitious politicians were doing a rain dance with each other, competing but not competing, watching one another closely, and reacting to each other in mostly indirect ways.

Each one is a master of the reality TV show format, but Trump got trapped in his reality show.  Cuomo has tailored his to the aching need for a plain-speaking honest broker to guide us through this awful mess.

It’s compelling to watch, complete with Italian mom making her sauce, a frisky baby brother,  and three daughters who give him no quarter (and their boyfriends).

When  Governor Cuomo says he doesn’t care about politics, people tend to believe him, even though it can’t really be true. When the President says he doesn’t care about politics, everyone assumes he’s lying, because he so often does.

Normally, that didn’t matter. It does now.

Their philosophies of government were so different that they had to clash.

They did each flare- with one another for a week or two, before returning to their unspoken and sometimes Faustian bargain. In exchange for not publicly attacking each other, they would try to work together, each serving his self-interest, both circling one another like wolves over an animal carcass.

It even worked once in a while. Cuomo has become our stern but loving father, Trump, our crazy uncle, spilling his wine all over himself.

The governor is reminding us what the government gets paid to do. Neither man is any kind of saint.

But it turns out that Cuomo wrote a better and more timely script. He just governs. He is, in fact, a scholar of governing.

Today, a potent new reality emerged. There are no longer two press conferences. Andrew Cuomo’s reality show clobbered Donald Trump’s much longer running and more successful show.

For the first time in months, Trump stopped talking.

He will, of course, regroup and return. But it won’t be the same.

The President is a genius when it comes to controlling any given narrative, soaking up TV air time, and rallying his very fanatically supportive base. I’ve lived up here in the country for some years, and one thing I could always count on was my neighbors hating Andrew Cuomo (gun control) and loving Trump.

That isn’t what I hear any longer. Trump’s abrasive persona is wearing thin.

These people just want the hard truth, and they are turning to their governor – a Democrat no less –  to get it. So are millions of other people all over the country. Take a look at Google searches: Andrew Cuomo gets 47,200,000 results.

The original Greek tragedies focused on stories of historical significance and portrayed the antagonist’s search for the meaning of life and inevitable self-destruction due to hubris and arrogance.

In Greek Tragedy, played out daily on American television now, the hero, though not always villainous, exhibits a realistic, but invariably fatal flaw known as hamartia – hubris. They can’t listen, change or learn, and in the end, usually too powerful to be destroyed,  destroy themselves.

As the story progresses, the character’s failings propel them towards their downfall.

This happened in full view on Friday when the President suggested that ingesting disinfectants and bleach was worth studying, and sounded like a promising idea to him.

As hundreds of calls from people asking about drinking bleach poured into state hotlines,  Trump just seemed to disintegrate. It was not the best image for a leader in a crisis.

Cuomo looked as if he just won the state lottery Sunday. An ambitious man, he might have won an even bigger one.

The disinfectant storm turned out to be a turning point. Who would have ever thought Chlorox would affect the politics of our country.

Trump did what he has never done; he folded and ran. As he desperately tried to shift the blame on everyone from reporters to China to various governors, he started to look like a loser, and for the first time.

The outrage and backlash shocked and surprised him and caused him to withdraw from his daily campaign rally/virus briefing. He tweeted that it was a “waste of his time” (as 50,000 Americans die.)

He left Cuomo alone on this critical stage all by himself, something a functioning politician would never have done.

Without hardly firing a shot, Cuomo thus became the leader of the movement – the war, really – for responsible and effective leadership.

There is no joy to be had in seeing a powerful leader look so weak and helpless. I’m not into hating anybody and I don’t hate this President; it is painful to watch.

These two men, remarkably similar in so many ways, had dramatically diverged over the developing national tragedy of the coronavirus, and their very different ways of handling it.

It’s not for me to say who did the better job dealing with the virus, only to say that as the dust is settling, Andrew Cuomo and Anthony Fauci are pretty much the only two leaders – winners if you will – still standing. And only one of them is an ambitious politician.

I wonder if the truth really does matter?

Trump simply refused to believe that his very successful idea of media wasn’t working this time, he met a much bigger tragedy than himself – a virus that paralyzed the country and so far has killed 50,000.

As the infection grew, Trump seemed to shrink.

He rarely spoke of the victims, simply could not show any kind of empathy for the dead and dying, he bragged about his ratings, urged people to consider untested and possibly dangerous medications,  and turned the daily press conferences into a caricature of Kim Il Jong, another Great Leader, slobbered on by stooges and acolytes.

What he did was abandon his duty and leave us to the journalists he claims lie, to the doctors he ignores, and to his advisors, who mostly kiss his ass and nod.

When he most needed someone strong enough and brave enough to stop him, he just ran wild until he ran right off of the bridge.

He stormed out of the White Press press room in a whiny and adolescent way, claiming there was no longer any point in spending his time talking to the public every day when all those nasty reporters were just going to refuse to give him credit for his great work.

I was surprised.

When this President says that going on TV for hours bragging about his greatness and snarling at critics, is pointless, something fundamental has changed.

On Saturday, he refused to answer questions and read from a prompter for 22 minutes. We had a saying in TV when I worked for CBS News: the camera is a fickle bride. It can love you and just as quickly eat you up. This weekend, it ate Donald Trump up.

In effect,  Trump left the stage to Andrew Cuomo, who day in and day out, has simply been out governing him. Cuomo seems totally at home in his role as the High Priest Of The Corona Virus, handling grumpy reporters, fending off his critics, spouting facts and exhortations,  telling corny families stories, showing an every growing master of the virus, and how it works.

I listen to Andrew Cuomo in part because he is fascinating to me at the moment but also because he is credible. Sometimes, the truth becomes something more than an ideological abstraction. In many ways, Cuomo is a throwback to a fading kind of politician, but the virus has brought him dramatically into the present.

As an older man at high risk from this disease, I needed someone to tell me the truth. He did that day after day. I appreciate it.

He understood the role of a leader; he obviously has studied Roosevelt and Churchill. Cuomo’s talks are a modern version of Roosevelt’s Fireside Chat, the tone is unmistakable.

Governor Cuomo is now the national governmental spokesperson for the virus, the one we listen to.
His honest and careful presentation of facts, his new gift for empathy and comfort, and the vivid contrast that the President handed him gave him and his philosophy of government a profound victory.

Cuomo showed skills that few other politicians have and that Trump failed to master; a command of the government, statistics, and programs; ease at handling the notoriously fractious New York media.

He turned out to be a genius for presenting himself as a sort of moral and comforting priest or rabbi, bringing us the hard news nobody wanted to hear, but with a heart.

He is the daddy in all of those sappy Hollywood movies, willing to take out the switch if necessary, but choosing to teach us and guide us instead. Once in a while, he even tells us that he loves us, just like he loves his Mother Matilda, kid brother Chris, his late father, and those prickly daughters.

Every good politician knows about soap operas.

This new brew, a piercing contrast to President Trump, is simple: one part schmaltz, one part truth, one part sermon. It works.

As I watch Cuomo, I keep thinking of Churchill’s famous speech in Parliament at the beginning of World War II. “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat.”

We hear so little truth from our politicians these days, it is exhilarating when we do hear it. Truth has become revolutionary in our public life, Cuomo may be a hidden revolutionary.

Nobody wanted to hear what Churchill said,  but almost everyone loved him for saying it.

Today, in his sole press conference – now broadcast live all over the country –  Cuomo made a significant turn, reminding us that he is a skilled politician at heart and not just another showman.

In addition to talking about opening up – he waited until the last minute – he often advises people elsewhere about how Pandemics ought to be handling, he always has an eye and ear on the rest of the country.

He is always sharing what he learned, warning other states of complacency, offering to fly out, and promising to help anytime. I don’t see any other governor doing that.

We are New York tough, he says, New York smart, New York loving. It sounds like a manifesto to me, a political selfie. Who wouldn’t want to be smart, tough, and loving?

In recent weeks there was growing anger in Cuomo’s home state from frustrated people up in the country wanting their communities and jobs to open up again. As a good politician does, he shifted gears seamlessly.

Sunday, cheerful and confident in his daily press conference, Cuomo pivoted and got the headlines he wanted.

He said it was time to get serious about opening up in a thoughtful and measured way.

He gave May 15 as a date when some elements of the economy in New York State – manufacturing, construction, and essential businesses, and possibly, even some schools – might begin to open up. Especially if the virus infection and recovery numbers continue to go down, along with the death rate.

Once again, he skillfully took the wood to Trump’s confused and contradictory orders to the governors. Open up, don’t open up, maybe open up.

Cuomo was clear: open up, but carefully and when the numbers look good and the doctors nod.

It looks promising, he said, giving his critics and everyone else watching grounds for hope of relief just a few weeks away.

In his best Churchillian way, he cautioned that this would be a long and bloody war, and asked citizens to accept change and sacrifice. There is no more normal, he said, we will wake up to a new reality.

The contrast between Cuomo’s message and Trump’s last tortured ranting on the podium could hardly be more striking or more calculated. He offered his usual self-deprecating jokes and parables of wisdom, family,  and encouragement.

As the President shuns responsibility and blames everyone but himself for the government’s troubles responding to the virus, Cuomo takes full responsibility and asks his restive electorate to blame him and no one else.

After another bravura performance today – the governor is not unhappy having this stage all to himself – he was immediately praised all afternoon across the media and medical spectrum as being smart, cautious, and candid.

Doctors called him wise and prudent. Commentators talked about his honesty and plain talk. They said New York was a model for other states.

They all opined about the reckless and sometimes idiotic governors opening up tattoo parlors and nail salons as essential businesses before they even know who is sick.

Cuomo wouldn’t think of it so soon, and he and graphics and numbers to back up his position.

A crisis like a coronavirus makes or breaks leaders as well as people (and writers, for sure). People either rise to the challenge or fall. Emperors, the Greeks tell us, can be depended on to fall to hamartia.

We sometimes forget that the Greeks loved another character; they call him the polis –  a younger, savvy, and bold challenger who waits for the protagonist to stumble and fall and takes the stage, knife at the ready.

Greek Tragedy, wrote one college professor last year, has never once been wrong in all of human history. They knew their emperors and kings.

The streak goes on.