And after days of waiting, the outsider won. The dark horse. The long shot. The improbable. The outside chance.

But Tim Walz, the politician next door and married father of two, might be just the ordinary bloke we need to disrupt the polarising political speak that now wraps itself around every single issue.

Unlike the usual Democratic VP pick, the 60-year-old didn’t go to law school. And until a few days ago, he was hardly known outside his home state of Minnesota.

Even yesterday, after Kamala Harris chose him as her running mate, almost three-quarters of Americans admitted never having heard of him, or not being sure what they thought of him.

And that, in a world where hostile political barbs and magnified rhetoric seem to win, might be something we all find refreshing.

Straight shooter

A straight shooter. A plain speaker.

Imagine a politician who sees value in being a tad pedestrian; who thinks and acts and talks like the rest of us.

On that front, Timothy James Walz is dangerously normal.

He studied teaching, like his father, and taught geography. He married Gwen Whipple, a fellow teacher, and had two children: A son called Gus and a daughter named Hope, reflecting their seven-year IVF journey to be parents.

Personal touch

On that issue, his support is personal.

“Even if you’ve never gone through the hell of infertility, someone you know has,’’ he wrote recently. “When Gwen and I were having trouble getting pregnant, the anxiety and frustration blotted out the sun.’’

Former president Barack Obama said Walz’s ability “to talk like a human being’’ stood out. Walz, in talking about IVF, could be like any other parent in America, or across the world, who has mortgaged everything to have a child.

It’s his signature attribute; an ability to be normal in a job that increasingly values the extreme, the brash and the loud.

He shares selfies with his kids, celebrates them passing a driver’s licence or at a pre-prom functions. He smiles constantly.

His cat Honey and black lab mix Scout – both rescue animals – rule their home. And on the weekends, his life seems to mirror our own – chores, parenting, catching up on work, and friends.

Mistakes owned

Just like those he wants to represent, he’s also made a bucket load of mistakes. And willingly admits that.

Take the day he decided never to touch alcohol again. He was 31, and had been arrested for drunk driving. Nothing to hide; just something to address.

On the surface, Kamala Harris has made a risky move; knocking back star candidates like Josh Shapiro who could help deliver states needed to win the White House, to pick a nobody.

But perhaps she’s banking on something a bit different. Less a showman. Someone with whom voters might identify.

She even said as much: She sought out Walz, because he made “people feel like they belong’’.

How utterly plain. And how utterly welcome.

Safe bet

A retired Army National Guardsman who worked on natural disasters. A politician with an ability to bring people to the table.

A ‘safe’ bet, who introduced free school meals for students, legalised cannabis and enshrined abortion rights into state law. Someone who liked a spot of hunting but enacted common-sense state gun reform.

Her choice stands in stark contrast to that of rival Donald Trump. JD Vance and Tim Walz seem polar opposites, and not just in terms of politics.

But Walz’s best attribute, without a doubt, is his ability to cut to the chase. For years, the Democrats have tried to paint Trump as the biggest threat to democracy.

Walz became an internet sensation by simply labelling Trump and Vance a bit weird.

Now it has become a catch cry; and Walz added to it at his first rally with Harris, saying: “These guys are creepy and yes, just weird as hell’’.

Quick response

The Republicans have hit back, claiming Walz is too liberal – but he’s already signalled his response there.

“What a monster,’’ he said. “Kids are eating and having full bellies, so they can go learn, and women are making their own health care decisions. If that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the label.’’

An attack dog, perhaps, with the personality of a favourite uncle. And a deft touch of humour.

“Violent crime was up under Donald Trump,’’ he thundered this week. “That’s not even counting the crimes he committed!’’

But there’s a bit of Ted Lasso about Tim Walz, too; not just because he turned a footy team, in poor form, into champions.

“I’ve heard the stories about how he had a knack of using the game of football to teach life lessons,’’ Harris said at this week’s rally.

“He saw the potential of kids who sometimes didn’t even see it in themselves. Under those Friday night lights, Coach Walz motivated those players to believe they could achieve anything.’’

The Democrats – not just Harris – are hoping Walz will bring that Ted Lasso A game to the election in November.