It was around 6 p.m. on June 28, 2016, the night of the Democratic Primary, and our lead was holding – which was unbelievable. I had thought it almost impossible a month before. We were going to win! Jack Kroll, then the 27-year-old employee of the University of Colorado admissions department, was about to pull off the ultimate upset and be elected to the CU Board of Regents for the 1st Congressional District. I broke every speed limit in Denver on my way over to his house, yelling my head off the whole way there.

I’d started managing Jack’s campaign in January 2016. My day job was doing community outreach for the No on Amendment 69 operation. After I left the posh campaign offices with stunning downtown views, I’d walk across the city’s core to Jack’s apartment and start making calls with the candidate. My fee was paid over the course of the month in equal parts money, friendship and beer. I’d never had that much fun on a campaign. We were making it up as we went along, and we were fearless about trying new things.

Our slogan, “Roll with Kroll!” was so cheesy that at first I was concerned that people would think we were running for student government -a job my candidate looked about the right age for. But people loved it. When we stepped up to the county assembly, chants of “Roll with Kroll! Roll with Kroll!” echoed across the convention center. We ended up sending out mailers that said nothing but that, in black and gold cursive, on the front. Even the candidate himself, who I first met shaking hands at a Jeffco fundraiser, seemed improbable at best. But he was dedicated, honest and the hardest worker I have ever had the pleasure to work for. I did not have to build him up or baby-sit his call time. He was talent, and I just had to get him in front of the right crowd.

Of the six campaigns I have worked on these past years, none taught me more than Jack’s. Namely this: anyone can win. And this: anyone who tells you they know what is going to happen is lying. The right combo of courage, a good team, luck and a maniacal will power can win almost any election. It would take less than six months for this truism to be exposed again on a grand scale as Donald Trump ascended to the presidency.

Here’s the problem: most campaign managers I know here in Colorado do not believe this. I certainly didn’t believe that anyone could win when I started. It is easy to underestimate the impact of a well-timed idea and a bit of charisma. Many are risk averse, clinging to some proscribed front runner instead of looking for their own candidates and rolling the dice on someone they connect with. If candidates do not already have name ID, money and the support of party heavyweights, many of my peers in campaign management turn their backs.

Ultimately, our politics suffer because of this. The ranks of our legislators age and ossify, falling out of ideological sync with the electorate. We get a bench like the one my party has in the statehouse – not very exciting (with a few wonderful exceptions), and stuck to an uninspired platform of progressive orthodoxy. To keep it lively, injected with fresh ideas that have a chance at capturing the heart of an electorate, we need campaign managers who think like entrepreneurs, investing their time and energy in helping new and talented figures grow to their potential. Managers who think a long shot victory is worth the risk of loss. And above all, campaign managers who carry a deep-seated confidence in their ability to move the needle.

That we lack these people in any substantial number is less the fault of the bright eyed idealists on their first campaign than an insular and closed political structure here in Denver. Young managers that come run a statehouse or city council race are paid wages below the poverty line. When the GOTV dazzle and the election night buzz abruptly fades, they’re just unemployed. The candidates whom they helped elect often move on and do little to help raise their young managers to a new position. I have one friend, for example, that took a two month furlough from his corporate gig to campaign for his candidate, and maxed out his donation to boot, and they didn’t even receive a thank you note after Election Day.

No organization exists in Colorado that can help young managers find a path forward and professionalize to the point that they’re actually good at running campaigns. For the most part, these young folks simply burn out. Of the 12 or so campaign managers that I’ve befriended over my last two years here in Colorado, only 2 are still in the game.

Every such politico we invest in, and who washes out after two or three years, is an enormous missed opportunity. Not just because they never fully master the methods already used to win campaigns, but because they don’t stick around to help develop new ones that will work in coming cycles.

Talking directly to voters will still matter in future elections, but much less than it has. We need new methods.

The truth is Colorado needs the help and ingenuity of fresh faces. Democrats and Republicans both bring a well-tested playbook for running local campaigns – target existing voters, drum up party support, knock doors and send mail – that is clinging to its last few cycles of life. Answer rates on the phone drop farther every cycle, and people have become jaded to canvassers knocking on their doors. Precinct captains have faded into irrelevant relics. Talking directly to voters will still matter in future elections, but much less than it has. We need new methods.

Up until 2016, we thought that we could fix all the problems with more data. The Democratic Party has become a world leader in voter targeting and poll tested messaging. And no one can deny that the hyperspecific targeting offered by machine learning and vast databases has been a gargantuan leap forward in the art of campaigning. Getting in front of the right people is essential to winning, and recording those conversations is the cornerstone of a successful political operation. But too often, when our fabled swing voter finally opens the door, we waste the opportunity. The voter is confronted with an untrained intern or paid canvasser who reads some painfully boring script that is forgotten the moment they step off the porch.

An example: I worked on a Denver City Council race for a candidate in District 10 in 2015. We sent out something like 8 pieces of mail, and had upward of six door contacts with many of our most likely voters. Our targeting was accurate. We lost anyway, because as hard as I try, I can’t remember the candidate saying anything interesting.

Here’s another one: In 2014, I was a field organizer on a Senate campaign in Iowa for Bruce Braley. We had an amazing field organization, dedicated volunteers and staff, and a state of the art digital marketing and fundraising program. I stood in awe of our machine. It was leagues ahead of the GOP’s. But we lost by 10 points anyway. Our opponent, Joni Ernst, opened up her campaign with an ad about how she was prepared to cut pork in Washington, all while standing in a pig pen with shears bragging about how she grew up castrating pigs. The ad went viral. Later in the race, our sterile messaging about women’s reproductive care got derailed when our opponent accused Rep. Braley of suing his neighbors over wandering chickens that would not stay out of his yard. Sounds ridiculous, but that’s probably why it made the front page of The Washington Post.

Any of of our opponent’s risky tactics could have backfired. But they didn’t, and Ernst fought to win through smart messaging, while my guy merely fought to not lose, so now she’s a senator.

The data, as Braley, Hillary Clinton and other qualified but wooden Democratic candidates learned the hard way, is not enough. Politics demands theater. Interweaving the two while fending off a risk-averse establishment that will gut the soul of a campaign at its first opportunity is a skill that takes years to develop. I’ve been on six campaigns over three years, and I’m just beginning to understand what my job is supposed to be.

So in the interest of building a bench of dedicated managers, Colorado should be building programs that recruit and nurture this talent. There should be classes offered in how to run campaigns and an effort to build an inclusive circle of professionals dedicated not just to a cause, but a craft. But that system does not exist right now. The circle of politics here in Colorado, at least for the Democrats, is inward-facing and furiously clinging to a crumbling status-quo.

I’m starting with my own efforts. This year I’m going to dedicate 10 percent of my time to mentoring younger political operatives. What we do takes skill and training. So if you have the uncontrollable itch to get into this business, and you don’t understand why most people in it won’t lend a hand, give me a call. We’ll get along great as long as you like 12 hour workdays and good coffee.

And if you’re better than me, I’d encourage you to do the same. And hey, I’m pretty new to this myself, and could use your help.