The leader had a stunning treble of victories behind him. His relentless run of success made him a hero to his own supporters and a figure who inspired a grudging, despairing admiration in those who thought differently.
He had cunning, ruthlessness and a love for power. From his working-class roots, he had retained a fondness for a drink with his pals, a comfort within an inner circle of cronies. The other side of that was an increasing sensitivity to criticism and a barely concealed contempt for the media meddlers who asked him hard questions and seemed oblivious to his achievements.
He knew in his heart that they were petty people whose pesky murmurings would be drowned out by the roars of his supporters. They couldn't really touch him. Until, that is, he made a big mistake. He announced that he had always intended to retire at 60 and that he was going to fulfil that intention.
It was, as he would later admit, a crucial error. Once he had given a date for his retirement, things began to change - slowly and subtly at first, then quickly and obviously. Authority began to seep from him. Those who had previously followed his lead without question, trusting his intuitive judgment and his record of getting things right, began to question his decisions. The clarity and certainty that had held his followers together and turned them into a formidably coherent unit melted way.
The parts of the relentless machine stopped working in synch. As things fell apart, his admirers began to lose faith and to express the desire that he should go now while the going was good rather than see it all end in disarray.
I'm writing, as any soccer fan will have realised, about the Manchester United manager, Sir Alex Ferguson, in the club's dismal season of 2001/2002. He announced at the start of that season that he would be 60 by its end and that he intended to ride off into the sunset.
From then on, his all-conquering team lost the plot. The media speculated endlessly about candidates for the succession. Some star players started to lose their discipline. There was so much talk about the future that they lost their focus on the hard grind of winning week in, week out.
It must have been heartbreaking for one of the team's biggest fans, Bertie Ahern. It is not hard to imagine him complaining over a pint of Bass in Fagan's about the folly of a leader announcing his departure in advance. Having watched his own boss, Charles Haughey, pull off the opposite trick and cling on so often when his retirement was a greatly desired consummation, it must have seemed strange that a man so much in charge of his own destiny should have turned himself into a lame-duck leader.
Yet Ahern himself reiterated during the election campaign, in an interview with Vincent Browne in Village magazine, his intention to resign as Taoiseach "shortly before" the election of 2012, when he will be 60. He must know that it's not as simple as that, and he must have been relieved that the Opposition parties made so little of his announcement.
A smarter Enda Kenny could have made real capital out of it in the leaders' debate.
Ahern will be 60 in September 2011. Assuming that a stable government is formed, it will be 4½ years into its term by then. It is simply not credible that the Taoiseach would resign that late and give his successor so little time to prepare for the monumental task of achieving a fourth successive election victory.
The reality - and it is one that has a big bearing on the formation of a government - is that, if he is to retire, Ahern will probably have to do so at the end of 2010 or the beginning of 2011. He will not be around to see through commitments he makes in any programme for government. The manoeuvring to succeed him will start almost immediately.
Brian Cowen, the crown prince and heir presumptive, will have his hands on the money that will determine how well his rivals do in their departments. Micheál Martin, the one-time future taoiseach, will have to achieve something substantial enough to wipe out the memories of his cringe-making disavowal of all responsibility for what happened in his own department over nursing home charges.
Dermot Ahern will be wondering whether Foreign Affairs has enough of a cutting edge to improve his standing, especially with the decline in the importance of the Northern Ireland aspect of the portfolio. Mary Hanafin will know that she needs an economic ministry to boost her claims to be the first female taoiseach.
The point is that managing his own party is going to be a much bigger task for Ahern than it has been since he became leader. One of his great achievements has been the uniting of Fianna Fáil after its bitter schisms of the 1980s and early 1990s. Now he has to manage his own ministers as well as a potentially awkward alliance with the PDs and Independents. It is another argument for a wider coalition with the Greens or Labour. Unless, of course, he follows Alex Ferguson and announces his un-retirement.