BY WILLIAM F. GAVIN

Long ago I read a short story (I believe it was written by F. Scott Fitzgerald) in which a rich young man loses the girl he loves. He resumes his dissolute life, going to parties, laughing at every joke, dancing exuberantly with pretty girls who adore him. There is only one problem that suggests he may not have recovered from his loss. Every now and then, no matter where he is, at a formal dinner or a party or a dance, he suddenly bursts into tears, and sobs uncontrollably as his friends look on.

I do not wish to suggest that my grief over the Washington Nationals post-season loss against the San Francisco Giants is as great as that of the character who lost his soul-mate, but I didn’t take the defeat easily.

I expended a lot of time and emotional energy watching the Nationals on TV all season, and had come to admire them—no, let’s be honest, love them—for their gritty, never-say-die comebacks, not to mention their superb pitching. I would not have minded had the Giants blown them away, but such was not the case. The three losses they suffered were all by one run.

It seemed, as the saying goes that, “the ball had eyes” for the Giants. They made runs out of miserable little infield hits that didn’t travel sixty feet, little bloopers, or slow ground balls that barely made it into the outfield. For the hard-hitting Nationals to lose an eighteen-inning ball game by one run hints strongly that the powers of darkness intervened on behalf of the Giants. Major League Baseball should perhaps investigate if any Giants souls were sold during the season. Just asking.

All of this came back to me when I read the Outlook section of the Washington Post on Sunday, October 12, 2014. The Post chose Nationals manager Matt Williams as having the “Worst Week in Washington.”  According to the Post, Williams “dropped the ball.” He made “all the wrong moves.”

But is such blame warranted? Every move Williams made, including replacing pitcher Jordan Zimmermann with Drew Storen in the second game, had a realistic chance of succeeding. Williams could not manage sluggers Jason Werth and Adam Larouche into getting hits, which they failed to do in spectacular fashion. He could not have predicted a wild pitch from a rookie pitcher.

But I can see the point the Post is making: Williams is the skipper and when his decisions do not turn out the way he envisioned them, he gets the blame. My theory that the Evil One aided the Giants is in greater accordance with all the facts, but blaming Williams is not irresponsible.

But in Williams’ defense I call upon King Charles II of England, who, when criticized about one of his decisions, said (and I quote from memory): “Those who find my plans ill-made because they did not succeed have need of an easier game to play than mine is.”

In politics as well as in baseball, success or failure doesn’t always depend on whether a plan is ill-made or well-made. All we can, and should, expect from a political leader is that his or her plan meets an exacting standard including: knowledge of the subject, common sense, good timing, prudence, an analysis of risks and reward, and sound judgment about disputed facts. Once such virtues are present, the rest is up to fate or luck or chance of whatever name you want to give to events which are beyond our control.

Let me offer one example of why this view is correct. On June 6, 1944, General Dwight Eisenhower after long months of planning and study and training and consultation and strategic thinking, began the invasion of Nazi-occupied France. But as a military man he knew that once the decision was made, his well-laid plans could go awry because that is the nature of warfare.

So he scribbled a note, just in case things went wrong: “Our landings in the Cherbourg-Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. The troops, the air, and the navy did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt, it is mine alone.”

This is one of the reasons I like Ike. He knew that he and his aides had done their utmost to come up with a plan that would work. But he also knew that the buck stopped at the desk of the Supreme Commander. Fair enough. But to say that such a failure came about because the plan for the Normandy invasion was ill-made would not be necessarily so.

In politics it is accepted that one side will gleefully criticize the other when a failure occurs. Again, fair enough. Heaven knows I have done this over the decades. Throw the bums out! What a bunch of idiots! Who thought of that idiotic plan?

Maybe. But maybe not. In this, as in so many cases of human failure, we should look to a poet’s wisdom. As Robert Burns wrote (and I use English in place of the Scottish dialect in which he wrote): “The best laid schemes of mice and men/ Often go astray/ And leave us nothing but grief and pain/ For promised joy.”

True in the eighteenth century, true today. True in baseball and politics and life in general. I think it is good politics to point out what was good in an opponent’s ultimately failed plan, along with deserved criticism. Wholesale condemnation of failure based on the assumption that a plan is fatally and totally flawed is justified. But sometimes Robert Burns is right.

Editor’s Note: William F. Gavin was a speech writer for President Richard Nixon and long-time aide to former House Republican Leader Bob Michel. Among his books is his latest, Speechwright, published by Michigan State University Press.