Patrick's appeal

A friend at a big metropolitan newspaper e-mailed me the other day. He was thinking about coming to Boston to write a story, but he had a question he wanted answered before committing himself.

''Can Deval Patrick win?"

That seems to be the question that follows Patrick around like a shadow. It was certainly in the air Saturday afternoon, at the Patrick pep rally at Faneuil Hall.

An overflow crowd had assembled to see the candidate. They didn't seem to care how much money he had in the bank or how much less his campaign chest contains than Tom Reilly's. Significantly, not many of them seemed to have been sent by their union or to have been otherwise coerced in the name of Democratic ''unity." Many pointed out that they had never been involved in politics before, at any level.

It was an odd event, in some ways. The long arid stretch between the caucuses and the party convention is not generally seen as a time for a big event, partly because it will be months before anyone casts a vote. Most of the questions Patrick got from the press corps after his appearance were variations on ''What was the point of this?"

To the campaign, the idea was a show of strength, a demonstration that Patrick's support is real and that he could not only pack a hall, he could excite one.

On those terms, it could only be judged a success.

Listeners were treated to Patrick's bio, his journey from the South Side of Chicago to Milton Academy to Harvard. They were exhorted to go out and raise money, and to spread the word about the campaign. They were told, repeatedly, that the political establishment and the media were against them, but had no claim on their loyalty. They were instructed to reject cynicism and embrace hope. They seemed to eat up every word of it. It was a very good performance.

There's some evidence that Patrick's message is catching on. Poll results indicate his campaign is surging, in the sense that more voters know who he is and view him favorably. Reilly's campaign, by contrast, appears stuck in neutral, though that's to be expected, if only given its missteps.

The problem with the obsession -- nearly six months before primary day -- with whether a candidate can win is that it drowns out the campaign itself.

The same is true, of course, with the perennial fascination with fund-raising. A candidate must raise -- or have -- lots of money to prove his or her viability. Pity the poor soul who lacks it because a lack of viability quickly becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Why give money to someone who can't win? And how do you win without money?

This is not to say that the critics of Patrick's grass-roots strategy don't have some valid points. You can't meet well over 2 million voters 50 or 100 at a time; just do the math. One could make a case that Patrick has a great strategy -- for a mayor's race, not for a statewide campaign. There's just too much Massachusetts, and only one of him.

Patrick likes to say he wants to run on the issues, though I for one wish he had offered more specifics about them. It's easy to say the governor and Legislature haven't shown much vision on healthcare and education; it's a lot harder to say what one would do instead, other than ''lead." A lot of the Patrick message remains squishy. His greatest strength at this point is himself -- his life story and charisma.

But it's relatively early. The Democratic field probably isn't fully formed yet. It's too soon for the debate over who can win to mean very much.

Not that long ago, the politically savvy in this town dismissed Patrick's candidacy as an interesting lark, a judgment that was clearly premature. I have no idea whether Deval Patrick can win. But that was an inspired crowd at Faneuil Hall, and its passion certainly didn't feel pointless.

Adrian Walker is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at walker@globe.com.