The field is far from set, voters are just beginning to tune in and there's still a year before the first nominating caucus in Iowa.

But the first inning of the 2020 Democratic presidential primary game belongs to Kamala Harris.

The first-term junior senator from California executed a campaign launch that is the envy of her peers, the talk of political operatives and now the standard for those waiting in the wings.

The feat was part logistical, but largely personal performance. And the seamless marriage of those two halves is what made it a smashing success.

First, look at the strategically prolonged rollout. It was no accident it stretched close to three weeks.

It began with a book tour on Jan. 8, which served as the country's soft introduction to the story of the first female African- and Indian-American to eye the presidency. Then came the formality of declaring on morning television on Martin Luther King Jr. day, a clear nod to the historical facet of her candidacy. Six days later, a massive rally with a Trump-like crowd size of 20,000 in her hometown of Oakland, California demonstrated immediate electricity and delivered a show of brute political force that was carried on all three major cable news channels.

The following evening's town hall on CNN with Jake Tapper in Iowa was a nice final touch. It not only extended media coverage of her kick-off another couple news cycles, it also showed her as accessible as she fielded questions from college students in front of a televised live audience.

All in all, it was a 20-day run that Harris owned. Even as other candidates popped into view, she forced the attention back to herself repeatedly.

By the end of it, she had even gained the backing of two of her home state House members – Reps. Ted Lieu and Katie Hill – which appear to be the first pair of congressional endorsements of this nascent campaign.

But it wouldn't have resonated without the personal skills of the candidate herself. Harris is clearly comfortable in her own skin and in interview after interview, her natural charisma and ability to connect shined through with ease. She's also blessed with a infectious laugh that will come in handy when the inevitable attacks against her strengthen.

"Harris captivated our attention . . . in this world and among the Trump craziness, that's not easy to do," says Stephanie Cutter, the deputy campaign manager for President Barack Obama's re-election. "She did it with fresh energy, her personal story, diverse tactics and a fine-tuned campaign apparatus. That's an important indication of her staying power."

It wasn't all roses, of course.

Harris' first notable slip up came during the Monday evening townhall, when she breezily suggested to Tapper that eliminating private insurance was part of her vision for providing Medicare for All. Journalists and critics pounced. It was instantly branded a gaffe.

"Let's eliminate all of that," would surely be edited into future campaign commercials against Harris, just as "You didn't build that" became synonymous with attacks against Obama and "What difference does it make?" morphed into the easy go-to against Hillary Clinton.

"That was a mistake, because people like private insurance," says Matt Bennett, the vice president of the centrist Third Way Washington think tank.

By the next day, a Harris adviser attempted to quell the blowback by assuring that the senator was open to other ways to achieve universal healthcare that would leave private plans intact.

Of course, that adjustment in turn ignited elements of the progressive left.

"That was a meteorite turn around," said RoseAnn DeMoro, the former head of National Nurses United and an avowed backer of Sen. Bernie Sanders. "I would love to know who picked up that phone. DNC calling?"

The episode encapsulated not only the ferocity of the campaign to come, but the threat of Harris' candidacy to all comers. With greater gains come more intense scrutiny – and the examinations of Harris have just begun.