That's one opinion. My opinion is that we, as individuals can create our own luck within a limited boundary.
Stephen Coonts, the author of "Flight of the Intruder" who retired as al Navy Commander, actually flew A-6 missions over Hanoi. He wrote this piece for
Approach magazine in 1995
.
Philosophy of Luck by Stephen Coonts
My father, a naval officer in World War II, used to tell me. “You make your own luck.” I think, in one sense, he was right. That is the kernel of truth Lt. Col. Haldane states in “The Intruders”: “The thing we call luck is merely professionalism and attention to detail; it’s your awareness of everything that is going on around you; it’s how well you know and understand your airplane and your own limitations. Luck is the sum total of your abilities as an aviator. If you think your luck is running low, you’d better get busy and make some more. Work harder. Pay more attention. Study your NATOPS (Air Force-1, the flight manual) more. Do better preflights.”
That’s partly true. You’ll certainly minimize your problems, but there’s a limit to how much luck you can make. In “The Intruders”, Jake wrestles with the whole concept of luck. People tell him he is lucky to have so narrowly escaped disaster, yet he feels unlucky that he got so close to the edge. Luck is a banana peel, a slippery proposition. Are we unlucky because we had an accident, or lucky that it wasn’t worse? Clearly, the perspective from which we view an event has a huge effect on its psychological import to us. This is the point that one of the characters in “The Intruders” makes to Jake referring to investments: “There’s no such thing as bad news. Whether an event is good or bad depends on where you’ve got your money.”
For example, statisticians might tell us there is a probability that the fleet will experience one cold cat shot (cold cat shot – an unsuccessful attempt at launching an aircraft from an aircraft carrier) this year. We all breathe a sigh of relief – only one. Yet the pilot it happens to will come face-to-face with absolute catastrophe, a disaster of the first order of magnitude. One cold cat shot a year in the fleet is a statistic, but one cold cat shot happening to you is a major event in your life – perhaps the major event – a crisis you may not survive.
I never thought much of the old saw, “I’d rather be lucky than good.” I think the good are lucky. Not the morally good, but the professionally good. There is just no substitute for sound, thorough preparation to avoid or cope with foreseeable misfortune. People who drive straddling the center line can get around a few curves, but sooner or later, they’re going to meet a Kenworth coming the other way. That’s not predictable, it’s inevitable.