In the who-lost-the-Braves? debate, Doug Wilder has a lot of explaining to do.

Perhaps no more than in 1992, when, as governor, he flopped trying to lure the Washington Redskins to Alexandria.

Though separated by nearly 16 years, the two events are closely tied and say a lot about Wilder. The Braves' departure speaks to his distaste for detail; the Redskins gambit, to his delight in the dramatic.

In both cases, the consequences for Wilder are the same: His standing, prone to peaks and valleys, tanks. As Margaret Edds, recently retired political columnist for The Virginian-Pilot of Norfolk, would put it: Wilder breaks your heart.

In the yes-he-did, no-he-didn't debate between Wilder and the Braves over what was said about a new stadium, what was promised and what was overlooked, a troubling picture emerges -- one potentially fatal for a local elective official.

A mayor, certainly the kind Wilder promised to be, is about nuts and bolts: accessibility, clean and safe streets, an efficient bureaucracy, productive schools, a balance between those who control a city's economy and those who control its politics.

Most of all, residents have an expectation of attentiveness. The Braves are the latest data point of anything but.

. . .

As the nation's first elected black governor, Wilder was a lofty emblem seen up-close by relatively few. The distance between the governor and the governed of a vast, suburban-dominated state could, when he was good, magnify Wilder's stature.

As Richmond's first elective mayor in more than a half-century, Wilder is practically the guy next door. Because he lives and works among the people he serves in this compact, racially riven city, he risks overexposure that, when he is bad, rapidly diminishes him.

The Braves' exit may be for Richmonders what the New Year's blizzard of 1978-79 was for Chicagoans: snow-clogged streets became a symbol of city that didn't work. Mayor Michael Bilandic, heir to Boss Daley, was swept from office.

But who will play Jane Byrne to Wilder's Bilandic? Wilder's abysmal polling numbers, as well as murmurings in the street, suggest he's vulnerable. However, as Wilder would remind us, you can't beat somebody with nobody.

. . .

In his failed seduction of the Redskins in 1992, Wilder behaved toward stadium opponents as he has the Braves. There are shrill outbursts of disbelief, an artful twisting of facts, claims of dupery and defiant, empty predictions.

Standing alongside then-Redskins owner Jack Kent Cooke in the abandoned railyard from which the proposed stadium would rise, Wilder declared the arena a fait accompli.

Within four months, the proposal was dead.

It was a casualty of Wilder's penchant for secrecy, a sense in the legislature that Virginia -- financially -- was giving more than it was getting, and old-fashioned grass-roots activism by stadium foes.

Many were sophisticated, professional communicators blooded in national politics. Their job was made easier by a perceived bogeyman: Cooke, himself.

When it was all over, Wilder displayed a rare hint of humility, saying he miscalculated resentment toward the Redskins deal.

Wilder has not reached that point in the Braves' debacle -- if he ever does. It's much easier playing the victim.
Contact Jeff E. Schapiro at (804) 6496814 or jschapiro@timesdispatch.com. He provides news analysis each Friday at 8:33 a.m. on WCVE radio (88.9 FM).