MITT ROMNEY entered the 2012 Republican presidential primaries as the presumptive nominee. He had a sound track record and a lot of money. He finished third in the 2008 primaries (Mike Huckabee, the second-place finisher, declined to run this year), and has effectively spent the last six years running for president. It was his turn. Between presumptive and certain, however, lies a wide gulf, and at times during the primary various polls showed him trailing a disgraced former House speaker, a former senator who lost his last election by 18 points and did not appear too fond of separating church and state, a resolutely incurious Texas governor and a man who had never held elected office and whose election might not have thrilled America's allies in Ubeki-beki-beki-stan-stan. In retrospect it is easy to say that Mr Romney was never in any real danger: his campaign was broader, better organised and far better funded; Republicans ultimately fall in line after falling in love and so forth. Still, since winning the nomination his relations with the Republican base, particularly with the tea-party activists who have provided so much of the party's enthusiasm since 2008, have involved more grudging acceptance than genuine warmth.

Indeed, at a tea-party sponsoredUnity Rally held at the immense River at Tampa Bay Church just west of downtown on Sunday night, Mr Romney's name rarely came up. The unity in question was not in support of Mr Romney, but in opposing Barack Obama, and Democrats more generally. Among the evening's speakers was Jason Chaffetz, a congressman from Utah appearing as a surrogate for Mr Romney. Mr Chaffetz said he has spent weeks campaigning for Mr Romney for two reasons: "A, because I believe in him [that drew tepid, polite applause] and B, because I want to defeat Barack Obama [huge cheers]." Rusty Humphries, a radio-show host who emceed the event, drew huge cheers with a crass joke about how "Nancy Pe-Lousy" wanted to take back the speaker's seat "so she can fly around the world on Broomstick One." Judson Phillips, who founded the Tea Party Nation, derided "our leadership in Washington committed to diminishing America" and declared, "We are not going to go quietly into that good night of socialist tyranny!" Neal Boortz, a radio-show host, won huge cheers deriding public education: "They are not public schools, they are government schools...they are forced upon us by government." Jon McNaughton, a painter much loved by tea-partiers, was there, doing brisk business flogging his paintings. His portrait of Mr Obama glaring as he sets the constitution alight sold out, but the one of him stepping on the constitution as Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Reagan look on in horror and the Roosevelts and Bill Clinton applaud proved even more popular.

The evening's biggest cheers went first to Michele Bachmann, who told attendees to "take a victory lap" because "you have succeeded wildly": she credited tea-party activists with forcing Republicans to accept in their platform such controversial planks as tax cuts, respect for the constitution and a fondness for balanced budgeting. And second-to-last speaker, Herman Cain, who brought down the house. He blamed "lies and dirty politics" for the collapse of his presidential campaign, insisted he was not disappointed that he was not speaking at the convention itself because "it's not about me", and then in the next sentence referred to himself in the third person. It was a vintage Cain performance: rousing, passionate, funny and almost completely substance-free.

In the primaries, Mr Romney had to fear audiences like this; now they are among his strongest supporters. It's support by default, but a vote is a vote. Picking Paul Ryan certainly helped—Mr Chaffetz drew far bigger cheers when he said he hoped that Mr Ryan would one day be president than from any mention of Mr Romney—but with this crowd he needed little help. They would happily vote for an empty lectern over Mr Obama, but as an empty lectern is not on the ballot, Mr Romney will have to do.