Trump went from communications savant to babbler-in-chief. Can he rebound?

A swing and a miss. Another swing, a check-swing. A final swing, a huge whiff.

In the world of rapid response and crisis communications, you get one chance to get it right. In some rare exceptions, you get a second chance — to redeem a major misstep on the first. But a third chance? It screams desperation and insecurity of the judgment of the first and second instances. Sometimes, it shows the true character of the principal.

As the president displayed earlier this week regarding comments stemming from the incident in Charlottesville, the third chance demonstrated that sort of indecisiveness on what should have been a no-brainer of condemnation.

Critics cited the first response as “tepid and mealy mouthed,” and the second “too late.” The third? Reversion, a double down, and diversion.

I found myself asking the following question:

How did Donald J. Trump, who can be characterized as the most-attune communicator of the 2010s, go from true mastery of the 24-hour and the 140-character news cycle during the 2016 campaign to essentially the Ryan Leaf of presidential political communication.

If you’re not familiar with the reference, Ryan Leaf was the number two overall pick in the 1998 NFL draft (the number one pick that year went to Peyton Manning). Leaf had a rocket arm and brought the Washington State Cougars to the Rose Bowl that (they lost to Michigan, however). Forgoing his senior year, Leaf entered the 1998 draft, where analysts believed it didn’t make a difference for a team to choose either Manning or Leaf, as both were considered franchise quarterback material that would benefit any team.

However, as gifted Leaf’s statistics were, there were troublesome signs: he missed his interview with the Indianapolis Colts (who had number one pick rights), ended up gaining 20 pounds between the end of his junior year and the NFL Combine (held two months before the draft), and a reputation of obnoxious and arrogant behavior.

It made no difference to the San Diego Chargers, who needed a new quarterback and made significant deals in order to secure the number two draft slot after the Colts. The Chargers signed Leaf to a four-year, multimillion contract, with a ten-figure signing bonus. Immediately, the dreams of Leaf making good on becoming a franchise player were dashed due to poor performance on and off the field. Leaf is considered the biggest disappointment in NFL draft history.

So what does this have to do with Donald Trump? Everything.

From his announcement in June 2015 at Trump Tower, to his performances at each primary and general election debate, Trump captured the media landscape, for better and worse. Trump exerts a level of distilled mastery in terms of describing a situation or a person on a basic level, and then reiterating it — over and over and over again — until it becomes part of the media psyche. “Low-energy Jeb”. “Crooked Hillary”. “Flake Jeff Flake”. Terms such as “sleazy,” “weak,” “fake,” “fraud,” “bad,” — you get the picture.

Forget those SAT words. Third grade taunts reign supreme.

And the president has been using this strategy for decades, starting with his feuds with New York City Mayor Ed Koch and talk show host Merv Griffin in the 1980s, to the 2000s with comedienne Rosie O’Donnell. And in each succeeding feud, the distillation of the description became more focused, more driven, and ultimately, the focal point of what made Trump “Trump”: ready to fight, ready to mock in a perpetually brazen way. With applause.

Gone were the aspiration of what it meant to considered “presidential” as well as the expected poise of what to expect from a presidential candidate. And in each instance that would have signaled the end of a candidacy, then-candidate Trump doubled down each and every time.

For example, the Access Hollywood bus tape leak in October 2016 would have destroyed any other candidate, let alone any public figure. But not Trump. In fact, in response to the tape, Trump fought back, saying Bill Clinton “said far worse to me on the golf course,” followed by attributing the original exchange to “locker room banter.” Calls for him to drop out of the race from both sides of the aisle came out furiously. However, as was the case with each and every incident, Trump stuck to his guns and stuck it out.

The Teflon Don, if you will. So it seemed.

However, what worked on the campaign has not and does not translate in the communications required for governing. In many respects, Trump has flattened the presidency. He has yet to use the Resolute desk — a symbol of strength and reverence for the presidency — for an Oval Office address (he may do so Monday night). His mercurial thoughts on full display using social media without the vetting of the White House communications team (or White House Counsel). He tangles with Democrats, members of his own party, the media, and the list continues to grow. He justifies his message as speaking to the (eroding) base that supported his candidacy.

The difference between now-President Trump and candidate Trump is the former lacks the latter’s “confidence” (if you will) to say and do whatever without consequence. As president, the words and statements he makes matter to both the nation and the world. And for someone such as the president, who craves and desires to be acclaimed and adored, it runs against the intent of the office he occupies. The president is an executive, not just a cheerleader.

With that in mind, how can the president rebound, at least in terms of communications?

(1) Focus on the office. The battles on the communications front should not be what network “wronged” the administration or what B-level (yes, B-level) celebrity said. There needs to be a focus on the tasks at hand: the state of the economy (still growing, but there are many signs of a pending correction), healthcare, North Korea, Afghanistan, the list goes on and on. Fight for good paying jobs. Fight for human rights. Fight for women. Yes, these seem like interesting suggestions, but this is a first step in stopping the gash.

(2) Think (and spellcheck) before you tweet. Easy enough. You can’t have the White House communications staff and the president talking as ships passing in the night. Also, just because Twitter allows you to immediate post a tweet doesn’t mean you have to: use spellcheck. It’s pretty simple to use. It can also prevent some (let’s hope not) future sticky situations (ex: “At lunch now…” vs. “At launch now…”). Yes, social media provides an immediate and honestly effective way to communicate with the greatest number of people without restriction, but with great power comes great responsibility.

(3) If you can’t do №1 or №2, rethink your options. Here’s the thing: each passing week, each passing hour, every morning, there is a growing crisis of confidence in the ability for the president to lead. If you can’t do (1) or (2), then it may be time to rethink your options and rethink the future of the presidency. A weak bully pulpit, a muted voice from the commander-in-chief leads to a dimmer America. And that certainly doesn’t lend itself to making America great.

Could the president rebound in terms of his message?

Ryan Leaf ended up playing for less than a handful of seasons in the NFL, retiring at age 26. This was followed by various jobs in and out of football, drug problems, legal issues, and ultimately, stints in jail. Leaf, now clean, engaged, and expecting his first child, rebounded not his football career, but his life. In a Skype discussion with high school students, Leaf remarked that reaching that highest level of playing brought on his fall:

“I was always successful at that game, and I didn’t fail until I got to the highest level, so a lot of my bad behavior was covered up by how I performed. Once my career started to go downhill, those behaviors were given a spotlight on a national level.”

The president could learn a thing or two from the 1998 Heisman Trophy finalist.

Rebound your message, or rethink your presidency’s future.