John McCain wrapped up the Republican National Convention tonight with an acceptance speech that I would say got him on and off the stage without any major problems, but not much else.

CNN’s Jeffrey Toobin must have paid a visit to the MSNBC booth and helped himself to a little bit—OK, a lot—of Keith Olbermann’s special Kool-Aid; although the general consensus was that McCain delivered an average speech, I didn’t really hear anyone else describe McCain’s speech as Toobin did: In the hyperbolic fashion that typifies his analysis, he called it the worst convention acceptance speech in history.

I give it a C-minus.

To my way of thinking, the address itself was an average McCain offering. It wasn’t remarkably good, but it wasn’t memorably bad, either. McCain did do a good job of something he’s not entirely comfortable with doing, and that is talking about his POW experience. But it was important for him to cover it—not to establish the facts of his captivity, as so many speakers (most notably, Fred Thompson) had done throughout the week, almost ad nauseum—but to articulate the extension those experiences had in his post-captivity life, his public service career and his decision to seek the presidency. No one could have voiced that connection like McCain himself, and that’s why the strongest part of his speech, in my opinion, was the section in which he described when he “fell in love” with America:

I fell in love with my country when I was a prisoner in someone else’s. I loved it not just for the many comforts of life here. I loved it for its decency; for its faith in the wisdom, justice and goodness of its people. I loved it because it was not just a place, but an idea, a cause worth fighting for. I was never the same again. I wasn’t my own man anymore. I was my country’s.

I’m not running for president because I think I’m blessed with such personal greatness that history has anointed me to save our country in its hour of need. My country saved me. My country saved me, and I cannot forget it. And I will fight for her for as long as I draw breath, so help me God.

He followed that segment with a direct appeal for Americans to take up some manner of public service. More on that in this weekend’s print column.

I’m sure the pundits will make a lot of hay about the protesters who repeatedly interrupted McCain in the early goings of his address. Again, more on that in my print column this week, but for now, suffice it to say that I was annoyed that CNN kept cutting to them, and then I was annoyed that they were even in the building to begin with. I thought conventions were wholly credentialed events. How did the protesters gain access inside?

Finally, Anderson Cooper noted that McCain offered several policy specifics in the speech—“arguably more than Barack Obama” did in his acceptance speech last week, Cooper said—so if the pundits focus on those, McCain’s address, if not one for the debate vault, will at least be a success in that it will function as a jumping-off point for the general election campaign.

But it’s safe to say, McCain is no Sarah Palin in the speech delivery department.

All things considered, CNN pundits seemed to agree that the convention left the Republicans not only united behind McCain, but excited and energized about the two months between now and the general election. How much of that is a function of the convention itself and how much is a function of Sarah Palin’s explosive emergence on the national scene is debatable, but I don’t know whether it will matter—at least, not for the next 60-some days.

And so, the general election begins in earnest tomorrow morning: The GOP’s partisan faithful join their counterparts back at home in their hamlets across the country, where they’ll man phone booths, walk door to door, wave signs, mobilize supporters, write letters to the editor, spend their days spreading their messages on talk radio and throughout the blogosphere and do all they can to get their ticket elected.

In the words of the South’s most famous belle, “Tomorrow is another day!”

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