If Matthews is a bruiser, Griffin is a marathoner.

A man given to smirking, but not shouting, Griffin expends no extraneous movements and he doesn’t let up during the show.

Balding and relatively quiet, Griffin will talk over his star in meetings—but not very often.

He urges his star to “go hard” much like a sports coach. And this love for sports—for his hometown Mets and Jets in particular—is close to the core of Griffin’s being.

He is a competitor whose conversation Monday night transitioned smoothly from the politics of presidential candidate Howard Dean to the acquisitions of baseball general manager Billy Bean.

This is no doubt responsible for the game-like atmosphere of Hardball.

When he’s not orchestrating a primetime news show, he is a runner, finishing a recent 10k at a respectable if not front-running 8:30 minutes per mile clip.

But like the best runners, he keeps up a constant mental motion.

At 3:30 p.m. he’s brainstorming questions and juggling the lineup for future guests. More than five hours later, after prepping for, managing and watching the Dean interviews, Griffin is still single-mindedly focused.

He engages Matthews in a quick debate about what could have been done better—where they could have pressed Dean harder.

At heart, Griffin is a strategy guy. He balks at the notion of trading his job for Matthews’.

“Everyone asks me that, but I like the big picture,” he says. “I like shaping them, making them better.”

Ringside

At 6:45 p.m. Griffin slides into his seat in the production truck alongside the director. He keeps his comments to a minimum during the hour-long show because he thinks Matthews performs best when he goes off script.

Hardball tries to prevent the candidates from “leaning on a standard talking point,” according to Griffin, but his is not a “gotcha show.”