TEN MONTHS ago, on the morning the General Assembly convened its 2002 session, House Speaker Casper R. Taylor Jr. looked up from his cluttered desk when a visitor wandered in.

"Tough session ahead?" he was asked.

"Might be the last one," he replied. "As speaker."

He was feeling pretty good. He was hedging his bets, the way politicians do, and asking that nothing be written yet. But he said he'd been contacted by the people representing Kathleen Kennedy Townsend about running for lieutenant governor with her.

The choice made sense. Not only was Taylor a respected figure across the state -- he'd made the phrase "one Maryland" a kind of political mantra -- but, as one of the savviest figures in the State House, he could offer an old hand's guidance to the untested Townsend.

"They said I'm their top choice," Taylor said. And then came the hedge: "All other things being equal."

Which, of course, things turned out not to be. Taylor (and others) were sloughed off for a retired admiral who was a late political convert. The Democrats imagined it would pull in disaffected Republican voters uneasy about their party's rightward tilt. Instead, Townsend's pick of a reformed Republican turned off Democrats worried about their own party's philosophical drift. Townsend went down in defeat for multiple reasons, of which the kiss-off of Cas Taylor was only one possible element.

"I can serve better where I am," Taylor said, swallowing his disappointment on that afternoon Townsend stood outside the State House to announce her running mate. He was being gracious where others would have let their disappointment show.

But now, against all previous imagining, it turns out Taylor might not be serving at all. Out in Western Maryland, Republican challenger LeRoy E. Myers Jr. seemed to knock him out of office last week. Of more than 11,000 votes cast, 71 votes separated the two candidates. On Friday, in a desperation move, Taylor asked for a recount.

Reasons for the apparent upset are multiple. Gov. Parris N. Glendening's redrawn voting lines -- thereafter redrawn by the state's highest court -- helped Myers and energized angry Republicans. Taylor's moderating efforts for gun control turned off some of the locals.

And, not to be minimized, are Taylor's efforts the past few years to bring gambling to Maryland -- including his home turf. He wanted it for Western Maryland's struggling economy. Taylor saw gambling as a way to bring jobs, bring a sense of vigor to attract jobs beyond slot machines.

But he knew it was a political gamble, too. Not everyone likes the idea of gambling -- even if it's just gambling where it already exists, at racetracks. Plenty of those who don't like the idea of slot machines happened to vote for Gov.-elect Robert L. Ehrlich Jr., even though Ehrlich championed slots at racetracks while Townsend said she'd fight them.

All of which leaves people in awkward positions.

It leaves Western Maryland in an awkward position, because Taylor was the region's champion. That "one Maryland" mantra wasn't just a feel-good slogan. It was an implicit cry that said, "Please, don't overlook my poor folks back home." For years, he was a political force for them. He brought muscle and money where the region's puny voting numbers might have left it completely overlooked.

It leaves Ehrlich in an awkward position. He made slot machines a benchmark of his campaign -- not only because of the financial benefits to the state's racing industry, but to schools that could benefit from gambling revenues and, most of all, to help balance the state's budget.

Cas Taylor was one of those who has argued strenuously for gambling. He has decried the loss of all those millions of dollars that leave Maryland each year and go into slot machines at the tracks in Delaware and West Virginia. But Taylor also understood this is a legislature that is not entirely convinced that slots are a good thing.

Ehrlich needs friends at such a time. The state faces a $1.7 billion budget shortfall. Ehrlich believes slots could bring in about $800 million a year. What he left a little fuzzy, over the past several months of campaigning, is that that money couldn't possibly arrive for at least another year or two -- at best. What does the state do in the meantime?

Cas Taylor would have thought of something. He's a smart, savvy political pro. He always understood the art of the deal, the concept of compromise. He's a moderate in a state that seems, in the wake of last week's voting, politically polarized. Ten months ago, he thought he might be Maryland's next lieutenant governor. Now, we may have lost him altogether.