Schumer says he has the votes; every published count against him is a word, not a number.

…(cont) Six days later, on 10 November, Sanders stood in a Capitol hallway and subtracted himself: thirty years of acquaintance, nobody works harder than Chuck, the time is now for change. The Guardian's video desk described the leader as confident despite dwindling votes, and put the Democrats at fifty-four seats. The Hill's headline that week carried two names, Sanders and Slotkin.

The next morning, 11 November, two papers published the same count in different units. The New York Post: a number of incoming Democratic senators have echoed the call. The New York Times: a few Democrats signaled skepticism, while allies offered support and called for party unity.

So the ledger, hon. The column in his favor holds one claim and one numeral — I'll be reelected, fifty-four seats. The column against him holds four entries gathered across ten weeks and not one numeral among them: a handful, a growing list, a number, a few. One side of this page is unitemized. Both sides are.

On this desk that filing has a name. A total announced before the receipts arrive is not a count; it is a projection with a quote stapled to it. Fifty-four senators. A majority of fifty-four is twenty-eight. Nobody has shown twenty-eight — not the senators saying no, and not the man who says he already has them. That is not an opinion about Schumer. It is two columns side by side, the vote still sitting on next month's calendar, and the only published figure in the whole business being the size of the room.