One of America's mythical figures is the coach. The one who encourages, understands, never gets discouraged and pushes each individual to excel but aims for collective achievement. And then there's the "neighbor," the one you help and come to help in these rugged Midwestern lands, no matter if he votes for the same party as you or thinks like you.

On Wednesday, August 21, Tim Walz, who officially accepted his party's nomination as vice president for candidate Kamala Haris, donned the double hat of America's coach, having coached football in the 1990s at his high school in Mankato, 130 kilometers south of Minneapolis, and good neighbor, having been born in a small town on the remote plains of Nebraska.

His appearance on Wednesday, the third day of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, was arguably the most important moment in the political career of a man who was a complete unknown in early August, when Harris surprisingly chose him as his running mate. With the help of an enthusiastic press, the Democratic Party worked hard to build the legend of the Minnesota governor, who was picked over Josh Shapiro, the centrist governor of Pennsylvania, a decisive swing state, and Mark Kelly, senator from Arizona, to make up for Joe Biden's much-maligned migration policy.

He's a jovial man, anchored to the left, reassuring with his white hair and grandfatherly air, even though he's only 60. He's a man who wants to embody the resolute optimism of the campaign, the new theme of Democrats breaking with the mortifying darkness of Donald Trump's Republicans. "Thank you for bringing the joy to this fight," Walz challenged convention attendees.

To push the coach image, there was first the introduction by Minnesota Senator Amy Klobuchar: "In Minnesota, we trust a coach who turned a team that was zero in 27 into state champions." In a short video, alumni paid tribute to the man who had helped them, encouraged their passions and sparked a calling to teach. The message was of a progressive coach who understood society's evolutions and supported them.

That's how he became the go-to educational contact for the high school's LGBTQ+ students. His wife, Gwen Walz, also a teacher, praised her husband's passion: "His classroom was a lot louder than mine but I could hear how engaged his students were." Finally, just before he spoke, his former football team took the stage, and Walz was quick to congratulate himself: "We even won a state championship."

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