Gerald Ford has the speech well-memorized. When the talk turns to the last election, the minority, leader flashes a friendly grin, relaxes the arch in his stocky, broad back, and raises an oratorical hand, to describe:

1) The resurgence of the Republican party, embracing views across the spectrum and appealing to young people with a "moderate program."

2) mismanagement of the economy by the Administration, leading inexorably to "Johnson inflation" and voter disenchantment.

3) prospective victory in 1968 with a "moderate candidate," after a "wide-open convention" without domination by "any one element of the party."

And yet, for all his enthusiasm, Ford's view of the future remains strangely negative. He talks of "constructive alternatives" to Johnson bills, and Republican proposals to solve urban problems. But he insists that spending on domestic problems must be cut substantially, even if the Administration requests a raise in taxes. Excess appropriations, he argues, have led to high prices and high interest rates, the principal reason for the Republican victory last month. And so, "they certainly have to make some bona fide effort to reduce non-military, non-essential spending before they could under any circumstances ask for an increase in federal taxes."

This reasoning may be somewhat difficult to follow -- you eliminate the deficit and then raise more revenue to finance it -- and Ford is vague on what kind of tax should be raised, when and where the burden should fall. But no matter: there are plenty of domestic programs, he insists, than can be profitably sheared. "All of these programs have to take their share of reductions. In general, I would say that a number of our public works programs could be modified, could be slowed down, could stand not being initiated so to speak in this crisis." Spending on antipoverty or space could be "slowed down, perhaps deferred temporarily."

The American people, Ford says, will not tolerate the high tax rates that would be needed to finance higher domestic expenditures as long as the price of fighting in Vietnam continues to rise. The country may have the resources, and the problems may be "serious," but there must be some limit on the spending in the public sector. The domestic programs must wait--two or three years, maybe longer -- until the end of the war. If people want to spend their money on private consumption, rather than on education or urban renewal, "that's their choice." The task of the Republican party, in Ford's view, is to represent that preference, not to alter it.

On the issue of the war itself, Ford backs the President, with minor reservations. "We say to the President: as long as you have a policy that's firm and forthright and steadfast against Communist aggression, we'll support you. We don't feel that we in the legislative branch in the minority party should determine strategy or tactics. I have many questions as to the need to expand our ground force commitments, especially when we have not used our air and naval superiority as adequately as I think we should. But the over-all position of strength has been good."

These generalizations usually pass unchallenged because Ford does not have to turn them into specific policy decisions and because, quite simply, the minority leader is disarmingly affable and good-natured. Smiling and handsome, he prefers shaking hands to shaking minds. He retains the stocky build, the rugged appearance and vigor of his football days on the Michigan varsity. And his earnest squarely-cut brow wrinkles in disappointment at the first sign of ideological disagreement. He likes folksy, apple pie and ice cream humor (Any aspirations in the executive branch, Mr. minority leader? "Oh no fellas, my wife wouldn't let me.") When words or ideas come slow, Ford smiles man to man, and gestures with a large, chunky hand.

Football put Ford through school, fed him for a while, and gave him a start in politics. After winning all-city and all-state honors on his Grand Rapids high school team, Ford played first string center for Michigan's undefeated varsities in 1932 and 1933. As a senior in 1934, he was voted the most valuable player on the squad. And he paid part of his expenses at Yale Law School by serving as assistant football coach and freshman boxing coach. In 1948, following a stint in the Navy and two years of law practice in Grand Rapids, Ford ran for Congress from Michigan's fifth Congressional District. He won with the backing of Senator Arthur Vandenberg, the G.O.P.'s leading advocate of a bi-partisan foreign policy, and he remains faithful to "modern realistic internationalism "and "constructive conservatism."

Ford's present team, the Republican delegation in the House of Representatives, is considerably less manageable than the old gridiron squads used to be. But Ford capitalizes on the same qualities of personality that made him a star lineman and coach. He is diligent, hard-working, thorough and honest. If rarely dynamic or inspiring he sets an example for his colleagues with conscientious committee work, and unswerving party loyalty. As a member of the Appropriations Committee, Ford was praised by members of both parties for his quiet expertise on defense matters. In 1964, he left for the San Francisco convention supporting Romney and returned dutifully ot Michigan to campaign for Goldwater.

Ford believes in team-work, and his principal responsibility since becoming minority leader in 1965 has been to get Republicans in Congress playing on the same side of the ball. The Goldwater debacle undercut the party establishment, giving younger congressmen who had complained long and bitterly of their lack of influence in party councils an opportunity to change the leadership. On the argument that the party needed an appealing new image, they deposed bumbling Charlie Halleck of Indiana and elevated then 51-year-old Ford. But the victory was diluted only a few days later when the Republican congressmen ignored Ford's support of Peter F. B. Frelinghuysen of New Jersey, and voted to retain Leslie C. Arends of Illinois as minority whip. Ford, facing a party bitterly divided on issues of age and ideology, appealed for peace in the language he knew best. Every one of the 140 Republicans in the House "will be a first string player,' he promised. "Nobody is going to sit on the bench. All will be 60 minute players from the beginning."

In leading the delegation, Ford's principal technique is the Agreement to Disagree. He is a master at fuzzing over policy conflict with position papers and embracing obviously incompatible views in a single breath--gracefully avoiding commitment to both. He manges to maintain some semblance of unity among politicians who may have no more in common than the side of the aisle on which they sit. His argument, in effect, is that people with widely varying beliefs can belong to the same church (Republican), as long as they pay the minimum measure of respect expected of God-fearing men -- attendance, dues, or perhaps merely resting on Sunday.

The consensus effort, unfortunately, exacts some toll in clarity and incisiveness on Ford's rhetoric. His position on the '68 convention, for example: "I don't feel the Republican party ought to be monolithic . . . When you have the two extremes more or less vying, you usually end up with a moderate candidate who will exemplify and typify the Republican philosophy in 1968." On the appeal of that philosophy to young people: "it gives an opportunity to younger people to benefit from their intelligence, their efforts. The Democratic party on the other hand emphasizes what the role of the government will be."

The old lineman, after all, prefers action to words. He is most at home on the field, on defense, digging in and holding the line. If his predictions hold true, the administration won't get much yardage on Capital Hill next year. Action on a civil rights bill is "very doubtful"; the Office of Economic Opportunity will be abolished and antipoverty spending, much reduced, will be assigned to the elderly departments. The Great Society will be put in deep freeze. It will be a time of consolidation -- Ford prefers to call it "constructive conservatism"; he likes the sound of it.