Team McCain: Ready for Prime Time?

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John McCain knows how to win small. No other candidate in memory has done it better. Give him a microphone, a chartered bus and some Purell, and he can take down a state with raw hustle and personality — a few corny jokes, some "straight talk" and his own heroic tale. When he wrapped up the G.O.P. nomination in March, his campaign employed just 90 people. It was a bit like the Bad News Bears winning the National League pennant.

But grit and luck get you only so far. Fall campaigns for President require massive organizations. What's more, McCain is likely to face the biggest, baddest team on the block. Barack Obama has been running the equivalent of a national campaign for almost six months now. He spends more than twice as much every 30 days as McCain has been able to raise in the same period. Obama has a campaign staff that numbers about 700 and already blankets most of the swing states. His organization ticks like a clock, has had an unwavering message and has kept a firmly fixed inner circle.

McCain, meanwhile, is still formulating his general-election pitch and struggling to build his core team. He is also trying, for the second time in as many years, to create a campaign that can win on a big scale. His previous attempt to run as the institutional candidate, with a projected nine-figure budget, failed spectacularly last July and nearly forced him out of the G.O.P. race. Though his campaign is leaner than his rival's, McCain says he is happy with the progress. "I am pleased with the way the campaign is going," he said just before Memorial Day weekend in an airplane hangar in California's Central Valley. "I think we are going pretty well." But even as he spoke, problems were sprouting all around him.

That afternoon, McCain was forced to announce he would "reject" the endorsements of two controversial Evangelical pastors, John Hagee of Texas and Rod Parsley of Ohio, whose support he had previously courted, defended and celebrated as keystones of his effort to woo his party's Christian-conservative base. The next day, his wife Cindy reversed a long-held pledge of her own and released the initial pages of her 2006 tax return to the public. A self-imposed ban on lobbyists has forced the departure of five of McCain's advisers, including former Representative Tom Loeffler, the campaign's national finance co-chairman, and holds the prospect that others will follow them out the door. Behind the scenes, the campaign seems to be searching for stability. In mid-May, McCain sought the counsel of former adviser Mike Murphy, who suggested, among other things, that McCain and his surrogates soften the tone of their attacks on Obama. To reassure fund raisers, the campaign also held a conference call making clear that everything was under control, despite Loeffler's departure.

Back in Washington, the anxiety level of Republicans is rising. "The McCain camp is now acting without much rhyme or reason," says a prominent consultant. "And it all goes to the top." Another Republican campaign strategist, in a thinly veiled reference to McCain, says, "Somebody is behaving impulsively is the point."

In ways large and small, candidates leave their marks on their campaigns, and that seems especially true of the Arizona Senator. In the past two years, McCain has witnessed more turmoil — and enjoyed more joyous rebirths — than most candidates see in a decade. With five months until Election Day and early polls suggesting it could prove to be another nail biter, McCain faces critical questions that could decide the election: Does he have the temperament to lead his party out of the wilderness of George W. Bush's late years? Will he be able to adapt his insurgent style to the pressures of a party establishment's campaign? And more precisely, can McCain win when the game gets big?