I feel sorry for would-be Republican mayoral candidate Mark DeSantis.

Republicans who continue to live in Pittsburgh despite the absurdity of life in a one-party city have to care enough for the technology consultant and policy wonk to type his name on the primary ballot today. At least 250 of the 4,000 registered Republicans must complete the task for him to be in the November election.

That's asking a lot of folks who have demonstrated that they don't like change, even if it is potentially good.

Mr. DeSantis should be familiar to careful readers of Post-Gazette commentary -- he's published more than a dozen op-ed columns since the late 1990s. Still, for Republicans unaware of Mr. DeSantis' service in the White House of George H.W. Bush, his years as an aide to Sen. John Heinz or his role in Jim Roddey's term as county chief executive, it will help to have a cheat sheet:

No, it isn't DeSantyclaus. Or DeSanjaya. Or DeSantorum. It's DeSantis. D-e-S-a-n-t-i-s! Can you spell "Mark DeSantis," boys and girls? The illusion of democracy in Pittsburgh depends on it.

I'm not endorsing Mr. DeSantis -- an energetic and intelligent man according to most reports -- as much as championing the old-fashioned idea that a well-functioning city government requires vigorous political debate and engagement at every level.

Pittsburgh hasn't had a contest by two candidates from opposing parties for a long time. While there have been contentious Democratic primaries, there hasn't been a serious Republican challenge to the ruling party's hegemony in the two decades I've lived here. And, yes, I've felt deprived because of it.

One of the profound mysteries of Pittsburgh is the scarcity of Republican mayoral candidates who aren't bat-guano crazy.

Obviously, the suburbs are full of Republicans of all political stripes and temperaments who have no problem getting elected. So why are the city's Republicans content to allow philanthropists Elsie and Henry Hillman to corner the market in reasonableness?

Jim Roddey, a classic moderate Republican, moved to Oakmont shortly after his re-election for county chief executive failed. If he were still around, it would have been a hoot to see the loquacious Mr. Roddey challenge the young Luke Ravenstahl for the city's highest office.

Frankly, I was impressed by Joe Weinroth of Squirrel Hill, a Republican who managed to persuade a lot of progressives to vote for him when he challenged the affable but unbeatable Bob O'Connor in 2005. Before Mr. Weinroth, a lawyer, gave it the old college try, Carlow University philosophy professor Jim Carmine raised the Republican banner in 2001. Mr. Carmine, a vocal father's rights advocate, went down in flames before the prickly Tom Murphy.

In fact, one has to go back to Depression-era Pittsburgh in 1933 to find a Republican mayor in this town. Alas, Mayor Charles Kline, friend of Downtown corporate interests, ran into trouble with the suspicious purchase of an oriental rug and was forced to resign from office. Obviously, Republicans have yet to recover from the shock.

The irony is that Western Pennsylvania Democrats would be considered Republicans in just about every other region of the country. You'd be hard-pressed to find an elected Democrat in these parts who wasn't also a social conservative, at least nominally religious and more than likely pro-life.

All of this adds to the mystery as to why Republicans, who generally come by these positions honestly, aren't more competitive in Pittsburgh.

So, I'm hoping against hope that Mr. DeSantis is able to prevail today and get his name on the ballot for November. I suspect his campaign will usher in a more viable brand of Republicanism in this overwhelmingly Democratic town.

While he remains the man to beat, Mr. Ravenstahl could use the challenge. The entire electorate would benefit from their clash of ideas and philosophies.

I don't appreciate every Republican write-in effort, though. County Councilman Matt Drozd's scheme to encourage voters to write in his 26-year-old son's name for Allegheny County chief executive has the whiff of banana republic politics about it.

At 26, young Matt Drozd is just a year younger than our mayor. He insists he doesn't want the job, but he's agreed to allow his name to be a placeholder for a more viable candidate later. He promises to resign when that person comes forth.

Beware of young men bearing promises.