Other than the candidates, no one has more riding on this week's Connecticut Democratic Senate primary than MoveOn.org, a liberal organization at the edgy intersection of politics and the Internet.
With victory for Ned Lamont, the group can claim a role in helping an anti-war challenger dump Sen. Joe Lieberman, who supports President Bush's policy in Iraq and has the backing of the Democratic establishment.
A come-from-behind win for Lieberman would mark yet another setback for MoveOn in its parallel campaign - to strengthen its credentials as a force to be heeded by Democrats as they seek congressional majorities this fall.
"The bottom line is: We and our members think you get there by boldly standing up on the most important issues that we face, on Iraq, on energy policy and on health care," says Eli Pariser, the group's 25-year-old executive director. "Some in the party, and Joe Lieberman for sure, don't think that's a winning strategy."
Story Continues Below
To say that MoveOn represents a departure from traditional political activity is an understatement.
Its political organization claims more than 3 million members, communicates through e-mail alerts, charges no dues and holds no national conventions.
"We're a virtual organization," says Pariser, a Maine resident who, like others, works out of his home. Tom Matzzie is the man in Washington. A Chicago-based firm, We Also Walk Dogs, handles the geeky stuff.
Ironically, one bow to tradition was the hiring of a public relations firm. The task? Promoting the group's activities in the mainstream media, often viewed as so yesterday by MoveOn's younger members.
Still, there's nothing virtual about the money raised.
MoveOn's members ponied up more than $800,000 for Sen. Robert C. Byrd, D-W.Va., in two days last spring.
Contributions to Lamont exceeded $250,000. Overall, MoveOn says its members have contributed over $2 million to candidates since 2005.
They raised another $1 million or more for early television commercials targeting four Republican House members, in Connecticut, Indiana, Virginia and Ohio. They were designed to expand the number of competitive races and leave MoveOn's mark on the midterm elections.
"It's made some impact," said Rep. Chris Chocola, R-Ind., one of the targets. "It's hard to say how much in the end."
At the same time, MoveOn has stumbled.
Several television stations refused to run the commercials, saying their claims were not adequately proved.
The organization has yet to back a winner in a string of congressional races decided so far. Among the casualties was Paul Hackett, an anti-war candidate who dropped out of a Senate race in Ohio under pressure from Democratic party officials.
The Lieberman-Lamont race, coupled with a decision to target Republican Rep. Nancy Johnson, has made Connecticut a battleground for MoveOn.
It claims 50,000 members in the state. And it's unlikely any two are more dissimilar than Wayne Boulton, a Hartford lawyer who describes himself as a former Republican libertarian, and Jeff Munsie, a Middletown architect and peace activist.
"Becoming a member is really just participating," Munsie said.
Munsie said he attended one of several house parties MoveOn arranged on the night of a televised debate between Lieberman and Lamont, the sort of event that builds a sense of community.
He also was enthusiastic about the online primary held to decide which candidate to support. "I loved that, that was awesome. They asked their members in a very American, democratic way," he said.
For Boulton, MoveOn represents "a progressive network to counterbalance what I see as a corporate control of the government," he said in an interview.
His opposition to the war eventually led to political protest, and last spring he dropped his Republican registration so he can vote for Lamont in the primary.
Boulton's description of MoveOn and online groups in general transcends politics, and echoes Munsie's own.
"Maybe they're this generation's answer to community," he said.
MoveOn was formed in the late 1990s, calling for censure of President Clinton rather than his impeachment. Founders Wes Boyd and Joan Blades were no techie neophytes - he created the distinctive "Flying Toasters" screen saver.
Pariser began his own online enterprise a few years later, advocating an international response to the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.
A merger followed, and by 2004, MoveOn's political involvement included traditional get-out-the-vote operations. Its embrace of Howard Dean's anti-war candidacy helped fuel his brief rise in the presidential race, and it worked closely with John Kerry in the fall campaign.
But in the end, reviews were mixed.
Some Democrats said MoveOn's liberal positions alienated the swing voters the party needed to defeat Bush and elect Democrats to Congress.
Republicans scoured the Web site for ammunition, and found plenty. A video posted online by one member suggested a similarity between Nazi war crimes and Bush administration policy.
House Republicans aired an ad accusing one Democrat - endorsed by MoveOn - of having the support of a group "that opposes using the military to fight terrorism."
MoveOn also gained notoriety for taking seven-figure contributions from billionaire George Soros. Switching strategy, it now operates under a law that limits donations.
Its objectives are unchanged, though, and the result is occasional jousting with party leaders.
Last spring, Senate Democratic Leader Harry Reid of Nevada and New York Sen. Charles Schumer, chairman of the party's campaign committee, appealed unsuccessfully to Pariser and Matzzie not to oppose Lieberman.
More recently, Pariser and Matzzie wanted the Senate leaders to say they would back Lamont quickly if he wins the primary.
The two senators demurred, then had a request of their own: Could MoveOn help Democratic challengers in Montana and Virginia?