There was a time when Beto O’Rourke was the next big thing. Tall, telegenic, skateboarding through a Whataburger parking lot with a Kennedy jawline and a fluent grasp of Spanish — the man seemed genetically engineered to flip Texas blue and charm CNN anchors while doing it.

But somewhere between the viral moments and the campaign logos, Beto became a miss.

Not because he lacked charisma. No, Beto had charisma in spades — the kind that makes editorial boards swoon and late-night hosts lean in. It wasn’t timing either, though people often blame the calendar. He had momentum in 2018 when he came within sniffing distance of unseating Ted Cruz. That was his moment. But when he lost that Senate race, he mistook almost for a mandate.

Then came 2020. Beto entered the Democratic presidential race like an indie band that believed its breakout EP guaranteed a Grammy. His candidacy leaned too hard on vibes and too light on substance. Where others had policy, Beto had a blog post from his teenage years. He lacked a base, a lane, and a clear why.

When he said “Hell yes, we’re going to take your AR-15,” the line fired up gun-control advocates — and simultaneously signed his political death warrant in Texas. The Democratic base wasn’t sure he could win, and swing voters weren’t sure what he stood for beyond performative courage.

Even his run for Texas Governor in 2022 felt like déjà vu in grayscale. He ran a cleaner campaign, said the right things, and worked hard — but it was hard to shake the sense of a man trapped in a rerun. Greg Abbott beat him by double digits. It was polite, almost pitiful.

Beto was a political mirage: refreshing from a distance, but lacking mass when approached. He tried to be Obama without the depth, RFK without the fire, and a Texan progressive without recalibrating for a state still clinging to red.

And yet, his failure wasn’t tragic. It was instructive. Beto reminded us that media buzz is not movement, youth appeal is not coalition, and no amount of hope can substitute for political grounding.

He wasn’t a grifter or a fraud. He was sincere — but sincerity, when untethered from strategy, ends up looking like vanity.

So yes, Beto was a miss. A loud, likable, well-lit miss.
And maybe that’s what American politics needed to learn in public.

#makeitBeto