Pedal to the Metal

"That's why we don't have more pitchers from MIT," McCain says, speaking loudly enough for fans nearby to hear. He is showing a version of himself unseen to this point, but one which suits him: senator as heckler.

A Crowded Hour

McCain was flushed with satisfaction on a recent afternoon after the Senate voted 93-3 to extend a ban on taxing Internet access. It is a bill he fought hard for. "We're actually getting something accomplished," he says. "Whaddya know."

He steps onto a porch just off the Senate floor. He is talking again about transience, the fleetingness of his romp. "I've been here 22 years and it feels like I just got here yesterday," McCain says, reiterating his mandate to maximize every moment, zoom full-bore, "so when your crowded hour is over you can look back and say, 'I have no regrets.' "

With that, McCain brandishes his schedule and reads aloud.

"Hearing on telecom reform. Going to speak at Pat Tillman's funeral on Monday. Tomorrow speak at University of Florida graduation. Saturday I'll be home for my son Jack's birthday. Meeting with the director of the 9/11 commission. Met with Condi at the White House this morning. NPR's 'Morning Edition.' Dinner tonight with Stephanopoulos, Claire Shipman.

"So it's a crowded hour, crowded hour. It's wonderful."

McCain is not a man of excessive reflection. He treats adversity with the balm of perpetual motion. Within a few months of his loss to Bush in 2000, he was diagnosed with melanoma that could have killed him and leaves a vast scar on his neck and up his temple.

"He handled that like he handled everything," Salter says. "Just get back here and get busy. The more downtime he has, the jumpier he gets."

McCain instructs a reporter to visit the Senate Commerce Committee room. Notice all the pictures of the past chairmen on the wall, he says. "You've got to have a pretty astute knowledge of history to recognize any one of those guys other than Warren Magnuson."

Message: It's all transient. Few are remembered here.

You hear speculation in Arizona and Washington about how McCain will spend his capital next. Colleagues keep mentioning that global warming could be his next signature issue. He's currently chairman of the Commerce Committee and is in line to be chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee in two years, a prospect he says he relishes. He is up for reelection in November and, as of now, faces no serious competition. But McCain watchers keep mentioning another presidential campaign. McCain, who will be 72 in 2008, downplays the notion, at least publicly. Sources close to him say at the very least the matter has been discussed among his advisers. When asked about it at the Diamondbacks game, he gives the "I can envision no scenario" denial.

Asked again last week about 2008, McCain says it would be foolish. He fears losing the stature he gained in 2000 by running a bad race in 2008. He mentions perennial candidates Harold Stassen, Ralph Nader, "all these guys who, you know, don't know when to quit."

"I want to keep a reputation which makes young people come up to me and say, 'I admire you, Senator McCain,' rather than being some old political hack who keeps running for president."

McCain is playing his sheepish game, lumping himself with hacks, when in fact many politicians have run for president twice and several were elected.

But McCain shakes his head and repeats his fear of becoming marginal. It is an odd explanation, given that his new book offers a how-to meditation on "the capacity for action despite our fears."

He shrugs again. He is happy enough now. Why? "Because we are getting stuff done," he says, which contradicts his lament the week before that the Senate is "literally doing nothing these days." All's transient in life and Washington.

He strolls back back toward the Senate floor and tells two dirty jokes that could never be printed in this newspaper. He back-slaps as he goes, stopping to greet the parents of a young staff member and poses for a photo.

The parents mention how much they admire McCain, and that America needs him more than ever, and for what it's worth, they're from New Hampshire.