Sidelines No More: Tafoya Storms Senate Race, Slams Walz and Frey

Paul Riverbank, 1/22/2026NFL reporter Michele Tafoya enters Minnesota Senate race, challenging political norms and spotlighting public safety.

Tafoya’s tone was unmistakable as she launched her campaign. “We’re facing a crisis of leadership here in Minnesota,” she declared, surrounded by supporters at a suburban event hall with local news crews crowding the back rows. You could sense both frustration and determination in her words; for Tafoya, this wasn’t just a campaign—it felt more like a stand-in for thousands who, in her telling, have grown weary of familiar faces making familiar promises. “The politicians who put us in this spot? They’re certainly not going to solve it for us,” she added. “Somebody new has to clean up the mess.”

If experience in office were a prerequisite, Tafoya wouldn’t be on the ballot. Yet, her bet is that Minnesota voters are looking for someone unentangled by political routines. In her opening remarks, she rattled off a list of grievances: a sprawling COVID-era fraud investigation that’s put public trust under the microscope; uncertainty and anger following a fatal encounter between a Minneapolis resident, Renee Good, and an ICE agent; and broader questions about Minnesota’s handling of immigration and public safety.

The Good shooting, which drew national headlines and sparked noisy street protests, is a particularly raw subject. Tafoya’s statement about the tragedy—calling it “absolutely tragic” and a failure that “should not have happened”—was somber, but she quickly pivoted to a deeper question: How did Minnesota reach a point where residents face off against federal agents in their own neighborhoods? In her view, state and city leaders bear some responsibility. “This isn’t just spontaneous unrest,” she argued, directly naming Governor Tim Walz and Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey. “They’re fueling the division instead of dousing the flames.”

That critique, which presses beyond platitudes, dovetails with Tafoya’s wider message about accountability and safety. She has fixated on the stunning scale of the pandemic-era fraud case now making its way through federal courts. Prosecutors allege funds meant to feed underprivileged children were siphoned off and spent on high-end vehicles and overseas property—at least $9 billion, by some estimates. The fact that many defendants in the scheme are Somali Minnesotans adds further complexity to a sensitive debate, one Tafoya doesn’t sidestep. “There are hard questions we can’t be afraid to ask,” she told a radio interviewer, “and we have to stop looking the other way just because the reality is uncomfortable.”

Public safety has become a cornerstone of her campaign. She wants voters to believe she understands the stakes on the ground—whether that’s the frustration of small business owners downtown, or suburban parents jittery after another protest blocks traffic outside a school. And when Representative Angie Craig likened recent federal enforcement activity to “the 1930s in Germany,” Tafoya bristled. “That’s not a fair comparison, not even close,” she shot back, warning against rhetoric that she says sows even more distrust.

The race isn’t a solo act. Over on the Democratic side, a bruising primary battle is already underway. Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan and Rep. Angie Craig each bring their own followings, campaign machinery—and fundraising clout—to the contest. The Cook Political Report still puts this seat in the “Likely Democrat” category, a reminder that even with new faces, old patterns hold sway. But Tafoya sees daylight. At a coffee shop in Rochester, she recounted conversations with swing voters, arguing that beneath Minnesota’s blue reputation “there are plenty of independents, and even Democrats, looking for change if someone’s willing to fight for it.”

Still, Tafoya’s path is anything but clear. Her rivals in the GOP, including Royce White (whose campaigns tend to attract national attention), Adam Schwarze, David Hann, and Tom Weiler, aren’t standing aside. The wild card remains Donald Trump, who hasn’t picked a favorite but whose blessing could scramble the field at any moment. Asked about this at a late-night campaign stop, Tafoya grinned and said, “Sure, I’d be honored. But that’s not where my focus is—Minnesotans come first for me.”

For Democrats, the stakes keep climbing. The Flanagan-Craig rivalry means big money and national surrogates will pour in, perhaps at the expense of other battlegrounds. But the fact that a Republican field this diverse is viable at all suggests a shifting political wind, at least for now.

Back in Tafoya’s living room, photographs from her TV days peek out from behind piles of campaign flyers and Sharpie-signed footballs. She left network television in 2022, a decision, she admits, that wasn’t easy or impulsive. “I walked away because something bigger was calling,” she said quietly—her gaze somewhere between the empty coffee cup and the faces of her two kids. “At a certain point, you just can’t watch anymore. You do what you can to make things better when you know you have skin in the game.”

It’s a risk she’s willing to take—and now, she’s thrown herself into the contest for real. Whether her underdog campaign will catch fire, only August’s primary can reveal. But whatever happens, one thing is certain: these days, Michele Tafoya is done standing on the sidelines.

No stranger to public attention, Michele Tafoya—long a fixture reporting from NFL sidelines—has now chosen a far more direct role in Minnesota’s political arena. Earlier this week, she officially announced her bid for the U.S. Senate, stepping squarely into the Republican primary as she sets her sights on a seat left vacant with Senator Tina Smith’s retirement.Tafoya’s tone was unmistakable as she launched her campaign. “We’re facing a crisis of leadership here in Minnesota,” she declared, surrounded by supporters at a suburban event hall with local news crews crowding the back rows. You could sense both frustration and determination in her words; for Tafoya, this wasn’t just a campaign—it felt more like a stand-in for thousands who, in her telling, have grown weary of familiar faces making familiar promises. “The politicians who put us in this spot? They’re certainly not going to solve it for us,” she added. “Somebody new has to clean up the mess.”If experience in office were a prerequisite, Tafoya wouldn’t be on the ballot. Yet, her bet is that Minnesota voters are looking for someone unentangled by political routines. In her opening remarks, she rattled off a list of grievances: a sprawling COVID-era fraud investigation that’s put public trust under the microscope; uncertainty and anger following a fatal encounter between a Minneapolis resident, Renee Good, and an ICE agent; and broader questions about Minnesota’s handling of immigration and public safety.The Good shooting, which drew national headlines and sparked noisy street protests, is a particularly raw subject. Tafoya’s statement about the tragedy—calling it “absolutely tragic” and a failure that “should not have happened”—was somber, but she quickly pivoted to a deeper question: How did Minnesota reach a point where residents face off against federal agents in their own neighborhoods? In her view, state and city leaders bear some responsibility. “This isn’t just spontaneous unrest,” she argued, directly naming Governor Tim Walz and Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey. “They’re fueling the division instead of dousing the flames.”That critique, which presses beyond platitudes, dovetails with Tafoya’s wider message about accountability and safety. She has fixated on the stunning scale of the pandemic-era fraud case now making its way through federal courts. Prosecutors allege funds meant to feed underprivileged children were siphoned off and spent on high-end vehicles and overseas property—at least $9 billion, by some estimates. The fact that many defendants in the scheme are Somali Minnesotans adds further complexity to a sensitive debate, one Tafoya doesn’t sidestep. “There are hard questions we can’t be afraid to ask,” she told a radio interviewer, “and we have to stop looking the other way just because the reality is uncomfortable.”Public safety has become a cornerstone of her campaign. She wants voters to believe she understands the stakes on the ground—whether that’s the frustration of small business owners downtown, or suburban parents jittery after another protest blocks traffic outside a school. And when Representative Angie Craig likened recent federal enforcement activity to “the 1930s in Germany,” Tafoya bristled. “That’s not a fair comparison, not even close,” she shot back, warning against rhetoric that she says sows even more distrust.The race isn’t a solo act. Over on the Democratic side, a bruising primary battle is already underway. Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan and Rep. Angie Craig each bring their own followings, campaign machinery—and fundraising clout—to the contest. The Cook Political Report still puts this seat in the “Likely Democrat” category, a reminder that even with new faces, old patterns hold sway. But Tafoya sees daylight. At a coffee shop in Rochester, she recounted conversations with swing voters, arguing that beneath Minnesota’s blue reputation “there are plenty of independents, and even Democrats, looking for change if someone’s willing to fight for it.”Still, Tafoya’s path is anything but clear. Her rivals in the GOP, including Royce White (whose campaigns tend to attract national attention), Adam Schwarze, David Hann, and Tom Weiler, aren’t standing aside. The wild card remains Donald Trump, who hasn’t picked a favorite but whose blessing could scramble the field at any moment. Asked about this at a late-night campaign stop, Tafoya grinned and said, “Sure, I’d be honored. But that’s not where my focus is—Minnesotans come first for me.”For Democrats, the stakes keep climbing. The Flanagan-Craig rivalry means big money and national surrogates will pour in, perhaps at the expense of other battlegrounds. But the fact that a Republican field this diverse is viable at all suggests a shifting political wind, at least for now.Back in Tafoya’s living room, photographs from her TV days peek out from behind piles of campaign flyers and Sharpie-signed footballs. She left network television in 2022, a decision, she admits, that wasn’t easy or impulsive. “I walked away because something bigger was calling,” she said quietly—her gaze somewhere between the empty coffee cup and the faces of her two kids. “At a certain point, you just can’t watch anymore. You do what you can to make things better when you know you have skin in the game.”It’s a risk she’s willing to take—and now, she’s thrown herself into the contest for real. Whether her underdog campaign will catch fire, only August’s primary can reveal. But whatever happens, one thing is certain: these days, Michele Tafoya is done standing on the sidelines.