OP/ED – There was a time when Chris Christie was a Republican bulldog—a brash, no-nonsense governor who could command a room and take on anyone, friend or foe. He was the guy who stood by Donald Trump in 2016, even after a bruising primary, and became one of the first major establishment figures to hop on the MAGA train.

ut that Chris Christie is long gone. Somewhere along the way, he traded his red tie for a blue one, and now he’s fully morphed into ‘one of them’—the sneering, sanctimonious Democrats who clutch their pearls and wave their signs at anything Trump-related.

Last night, as Trump took the stage—love him or hate him, the man still draws a crowd—you could almost picture the scene if Christie had been there. He wouldn’t have been in the back row clapping or even sitting quietly with a skeptical frown. No, he’d have been right up front with the paddle-waving brigade, hoisting a sign that screamed, “Not my President.”

Maybe he’d even have a megaphone to match the volume of his old Jersey bravado, just to make sure everyone knew he’s fully crossed the Rubicon.

It’s not just speculation—it’s the logical endpoint of his slow-motion breakup with the GOP base. Christie’s been on this trajectory for years, ever since he started cozying up to the anti-Trump crowd. His critiques of Trump went from measured jabs to full-on rants, the kind that sound less like principled dissent and more like audition tapes for a CNN pundit gig.

He’s not just criticizing policy anymore; he’s adopted the moral superiority, the eye-rolling disdain, the whole performative package that defines the modern Democratic activist. You can almost hear him muttering “deplorable” under his breath.

Had he been there last night, paddle in hand, it would’ve been the final nail in the coffin of his Republican identity. The guy who once shut down bridges with swagger would now be shutting down any pretense of loyalty to the party he claimed to represent. And the irony?

The Democrats he’s trying to impress would never fully trust him anyway—he’s still the ex-Trump guy, the turncoat who only flipped when it was convenient. They’d cheer his sign, sure, but they’d never let him lead the parade.

Chris Christie’s transformation isn’t just a personal betrayal—it’s a symbol of how far some will go to stay relevant. He’s not a maverick anymore; he’s a caricature, sneering alongside the same people he once mocked.

If he’d been there last night, that “Not my President” paddle wouldn’t just be a jab at Trump—it’d be a declaration of who he’s become. One of them.

Maybe we have the big guy all wrong, perhaps his paddle would have said, “I still love you.”

-Brad, Oceanport, NJ