Urban Flight

It's amazing to me when people blessed with ability and the drive to become great are able to have enough perspective to leave on their terms. In sports, the endgame is something many of our heroes have not been able to win. So many of the superstars that we've come to love have the need to hang around a little too long, sometimes damaging their legacy. Sometimes, players underestimate the impact of injuries that accumulate over time. We saw Larry Bird try to hang on with a bad back, but he was never able to get himself healthy enough to really challenge the Pistons' or Bulls' emergence. And sometimes, it's not a specific injury, but simply it's the ravages of time that slow our stars down. This coupled with the competitiveness that makes these people great makes for some uncomfortable, sometimes dangerous situations. We watched with sad feeling as a slower, heavier, less awe-inspiring Michael Jordan tried to come back with the Wiz. And even worse, we watched uncomfortably as an overmatched Muhammad Ali tried to turn back the clock against Larry Holmes, only to take a brutal beating while being too proud to quit.

Hanging on too long may be hazardous to your health.

Pop culture has create a bit of a cottage industry selling expensive throwback jerseys of iconic players with strange team colors and logos. This is always fascinating to see people wearing these jerseys, and you have to think for a second about what it is that you're actually looking at.

Evidently, Broadway is in Los Angeles (or perhaps it's moved to St. Louis).

Say Hey - one of the game's Giants... sort of.

On the flip side, a small handful of stars are able to either leave on top or step aside gracefully. We have the image of John Elway riding off into the sunset as a back-to-back Super Bowl champ after the 1998 season. Perhaps we think about Jim Brown running and receiving for 21 TD, 1872 yards, and winning his 5th MVP in 1965 at the age of 29. Or more recently, Barry Sanders stepping aside at the age of 30, after his 10th Pro Bowl season (out of 10 years played).

Leaving on top. Beats leaving in a heap.

Even among coaching icons, we see examples of coaches who hung on a little too long. Chuck Noll, the 4-time Super Bowl winning coach for the Steelers went 44-51 (.463) over his last 6 seasons, after going 149-97 (.606) in the years before that. Bobby Bowden is one current example, going 37-27 (.578) over last 5 seasons (pending this year's bowl game), after going 278-70 (.799) in the years before that. And this year, he was finally forced to resign by the powers that be at Florida St., in a somewhat sad situation.

Dadgum. Winning is harder when we have to play good teams.

In hoops, we see Gene Keady going 63-79 (.444) in his last 5 seasons at Purdue, after going 449-191 (.702) in the years before that. Even our own Lou Henson went 86-64 (.573) in his last 5 seasons at Illinois, after going 376-160 (.701) in his time before that (note, Lou also bailed out his alma mater, New Mexico St. after he retired from Illinois, and coached another 8 seasons at a .611 clip). But not everyone leaves on a down note. THE icon in coaching is John Wooden, who coached his last game in 1975, after winning his 10th national championship (which was the 8th out of the previous 9, and 10th in previous 12 years).

Now, Urban Meyer, one of college football's class acts, steps aside at the age of 45, with potentially another 10 years at the top of the game, making $4+ million per year. He finishes going to his 4th BCS Bowl, having won 2 of the last 4 national championships (and also went undefeated in 2004 at Utah), and leaves behind the nation's top incoming recruiting class. He gets to be one of the few who leave the game while their skills are still in tact, with his health and family still in tact, as well. That's the sort of move that the Board Room salutes.

Update: 12/27/09 - It appears that Meyer has been talked into taking a leave of absence, rather than simply resigning. So, this appears to be more akin to Coach K (no chance that I could spell his name w/out looking it up) taking a leave of absence back in the 90's. I think that this is the more practical option, though I do sort of like the idea of just saying, "screw it, I've been to the mountain top, and now I'm going to just hang out and be awesome."

-Chairman

Project Self: The Decade in Review

For most people, as they look back on a decade, it's a mix of wonderment, awe, joy, and sadness. They can think about the highs and lows, the memorable events, and the things they wish they could forget. As I think about the 20-aught's, I realize that I'm sort of boring.

Even in the 1990's, I had many interesting happenings in my life. We opened up the decade with the '90 Reds bringing in the decade by going wire-to-wire and sweeping the Bash ('Roid) Brothers, and winning a World Series. I had cruised through junior high, was getting great grades, was playing a lot of tennis, and actually was on the varsity chess team during my freshman year of high school. Then in 1993, we moved from Cincy out to Rotterdam, NY, where high school was a reasonably interesting time. In my junior year, I had my lifetime athletic highlight, I served an ace on match point to win my match deep in the 3rd set, which also won the last team match of the season, and locked up a division title in the process. I continued to get great grades, had the option to leave after my junior year to enroll at USC. Apparently, warm weather and hot SoCal chicks wasn't as appealing as shoveling snow and cruising through senior year. I ended up coming back for my senior year, hoping to repeat a championship run, way before people like Tim Tebow or Sam Bradford made it cool to do so. Much like those two, I also failed, as our team was mediocre, though I had a pretty good season. And my senior year was phenomenal. I got to use the car on a daily basis because I ended up taking a couple classes at the local community college during the day. Let's just say that I wasn't all that impressed at my first foray into higher education (well, sort of higher ed). But I had a 4 hour gap in my school day gave me time after my college classes, before I had to get back to school, which I took advantage of by going to the mall or going out to lunch. All in all, it was pretty sweet.

Interestingly, this also marked the first time that I had decided to hang around, rather than look for the next place to go (more on this later). In 1996, I left NY for the cornfields of Champaign-Urbana, IL, which was an even more interesting time. First, my grades became more adequate than good. Let's just say that I wasn't big on achievement once I hit college. In 1998, I spent 8 months in Louisville, KY working as a co-op for General Electric, and went on a number of adventures with a lot of cool people. I had some cool adventures with my roommates, and all in all really like my time in Illinois. All throughout this time, it was interesting how my New Year's Eve celebrations had evolved. In 1996 and 1997, I was still going home to NY for winter break, so we had some low-key nights with friends, playing cards, a lot like what we did in high school. I ended 1998 in Times Square, NY, staying with random people that my buddy had met online, and we had brought along this gigantic 6'4" blonde chick from Albany. And as I recall, we closed out 1999 in Illinois by throwing a big party that had like 60 people in there, having a great time.

Three locations, lots of life changes, as I went from being a kid to being... well, an older kid. Along the way, I got to wander to a lot of places, met a lot of great folks, all of which helped form the person that I'm going to eventually become. I was rolling out to West Virginia to go kayaking. Up to Cedar Pointe to ride ridiculously large roller coasters. Rocking it out in NYC for new year's. Playing wingman for my buddy while he dove into moving cars full of cheerleaders.

Then the new millennium rolled in. I was still in Champaign-Urbana, rocking it out. First, wrapping up my undergrad degree, and then starting my grad program in engineering. I got to spend a summer in Estes Park, CO (a great summer). Then I started an MBA program. Then I spent a summer in San Antonio, TX (another great summer). After that, I muddled my way through two more semester of mindless MBA classes, in the process started doing some research in consumer behavior in the spring of 2003, as I was wrapping up the engineering classes for my grad program. I kept doing the research, and then got into a PhD program in the fall of 2004. And I was still in Illinois. And that was how it was going to be in 2005. And 2006. And 2007. And 2008. And even the first half of 2009.

My New Year's traditions had gone from being in a different place every year to being in the same bar in Champaign every year. The start of the decade was a lot like the end of the 90's. The end of 2000 was another big party, only I was an attendee, and not the host. We spent the end of 2001 in the French Quarter in New Orleans getting terrible service at Pere Antoine's. Then we opened up 2002 watching our Illini get stomped by LSU in the Sugar Bowl on New Year's Day. And then starting in 2003, it was New Year's: Champaign, except for one year when we ventured out to Indy to rock it out. One of the recurring themes was that we always Dino in tow, for most of the Champaign and the Indy adventure. But then in 2007, he told me that he wasn't coming up for New Year's, and that's when I figured that he'd be getting married soon (and I was right... sucker :-).

In the 1990's, I moved location 3 times, got into new adventures. By 2003, I was sort of this equilibrium state. I just sort of did my own thing. I replaced the friends who actually decided to grow up and enter adulthood, with more like-minded folks who loved the extended adolescence that college afforded. But each iteration lost a little in the translation, particularly at the periphery. I was able to replace the handful of lasting friendships that I had, but the next tier of friends sort of faded away, numerically, and for those who were there, the signal quality was slightly degraded. And my New Year's adventures became less interesting, to the point where I was just going out just because that was what people were supposed to do (and I didn't have to wait in line at my bar).

I think that the end of this decade is a good thing for me. First of all, I've finally moved on from Illinois. The last 4 1/2 months of the decade have been spent in New Orleans. I'm no longer amongst those with "hidden unemployment," and have vaulted into a 95th percentile salary. It's not like I've grown up, but now I'm an older kid, with some grown up toys, like power drills, jigsaws, and firearms. Okay, not firearms. Yet (maybe when I'm 35 I'll be responsible enough to own a gun - probably not). I still need to figure out how I want to use all of this new found wealth (other than buying guns - and ammo). And I need to figure out how I want to relate to the people around me. One thing that I haven't really done, yet, is to reload those lasting friendships down in NOLA. And I suppose that we'll see if the 13 years spent on a college campus as a student has stunted my development as a person or irreparably damaged my view of people (which actually is sort of cool, if you think about it). Of course, this may not matter, since I'm still on a college campus, only now on the other side of the table. But what's great is that I've got a new decade to figure this stuff out... once I figure out what I'm going to do for New Year's Eve in a few days.

-Chairman

Figures Lie, and Liars will Figure (v. 2.0)

Last summer, when my guy Mahmoud was having his latest electoral triumph, there were some folks who were convinced that there was some fraud going on. Now, I was one of the folks who was pretty sure. But I certainly couldn't prove it. And it wasn't just in Iran where you'd see rigged elections, which are often in plain sight. And in fact, I was sort of hoping that the election was rigged, as rigged elections are a lot of fun in my book. Especially when you look at the aftermath of these things. But what I thought was interesting was how the statistics used in the Washington Post article were interpreted to "prove" that the fraud took place. Essentially, the odds of any one even happening, given the almost limitless possible permutations, is astronomical. So arguments that build up an argument parallel to that idea are on shaky ground to begin with.

But the use of data and statistics is something that we're becoming more and more comfortable with. In sports, folks in basketball are looking for more useful statistics (disclaimer - I have nothing to do with this statistic, and actually think that it looks hokey, but I love the name) to analyze player performance. Sometimes, the results are somewhat comical, and entirely counterintuitive to our everyday observations, as Bill Simmons points out (about 1/3 of the way down) when commenting on stats-guru Wayne Winston's take on Tim Thomas. And in baseball, we saw voters overlook traditional counting numbers (wins, losses, HR, RBI), and focus more on efficiency numbers (ERA, WHIP, OBP, SLG), when selecting Greinke, Lincecum, and Mauer as the best pitchers and hitters (Pujols was a lock no matter what criteria you use).

Of course, as more and more people employ the use of statistics, you have more and more people misusing statistics, whether by intent, or by ignorance. One of my pet peeves is the use of macro level data to evaluate singular events, under the assumption that the data is perfect.

Recently, there was a situation in the NFL, that has led to a lot of commentary and angst. Basically, the Patriots are winning by 6, have the ball on their own 29 yard line, and it's 4th and 2. And coach Bill Belichick decides to go for it. Only, they don't have their personnel correct, so they have to burn their last time out. Then, they come back out of the timeout, and line up on offense again, in a 5WR, empty backfield. I'll be honest - as I was watching the game, I figured that they'd try to draw them offsides, or maybe put in a QB keeper to get the 2 yards.

I was legitimately shocked when they actually snapped the ball and threw. And immediately, I knew that there'd be a maelstrom of dissenting opinion on this one. And the argument would basically fall along two lines. The first group would be the supporters, and the support would be statistically based, likely building off of the argument that the average offensive play gains 5 yards, etc. The second group would be the dissenters, who would argue for conservatism, talk about how that's not how you play the game, you that's disrespectful to your defense, etc. Normally, I am all for statistical evidence. But one of the biggest things that the stat folks forget is that just because you have a stat, it doesn't mean that it's appropriate to use in a situation.

There's a basic assumption that is being made here that (in my opinion) isn't perfectly clear. You are assuming that the use of macro level probabilities is appropriate for making micro level decisions, regardless of context. I'd argue that the context matters, an that the probabilities for winning should be considered with the actual players.

If you're a poker player, then you will often see people playing in tournaments make decisions exclusively based on pot odds. Basically, if you are a 2-to-1 underdog, but you're getting the appropriate incentive to take the risk (for example a reward of a 3-to-1 situation), you should take on the risk because price is correct. However, there's something implied that is often not considered: essentially what you are saying is that any 1 chip is worth the same, regardless of the situation, regardless of who owns that chip. Now, if you had a computer simulator and could re-run that scenario an infinite number of times, the stat-based decision will be the optimal method. But life is a one-shot deal, and the outcomes at a micro level need to be examined in terms of the macro level.

In that same situation, wouldn't you love to have statistics that could tell you things like a) expected tournament winnings, b) tournament win probability, c) the probability of finishing out of the money, d) the probability that this decision changes how other players play against me (and how it does so), etc. All of these things are just as useful as knowing the odds of winning that one hand, and unless it's an all-in, much more useful information. However, these stats aren't readily available statistics. The odds of winning the hand is much easier to attain, so that's the information that people will often use. And there are a lot of folks who are more than happy to use that information because that's the best they got. Evidently this is the new math.

To paraphrase Phil Hellmuth, I'm not sure if I buy into the new math. Essentially this methodology implies that the user is of (at best) equal skill to every other player in the tournament, and that the size of any player's chip count is irrelevant. No poker player would ever admit to the first part (in that sense, the new math does prevent hubris, which I suppose is good), and the 2nd part is clearly wrong, both statistically and psychologically. And I would venture to guess that none of the good poker players really use pot odds exclusively when they're making their calculations. They're always adding on things like implied odds, the odds that an opponent is bluffing, the odds based on what they believe an opponent has, how well they know an opponent, how well the opponent knows them. Now all of these things are "soft" data - no hard evidence. But this is the majority of the decision making process.

This isn't a 1-to-1 correlation, but in my opinion, the Belichick story and the poker example are in the same realm. The use of historical-level data, which accumulates basic information on individual plays, does not (at least the data that I've come across hasn't) sort out things like a) at what point in the game a given play was run, b) the game situation, c) the formations that were used, d) the caliber of the teams that were involved, e) playoff implications of the teams involved, etc. For the folks who are defended the Belichick move solely based on these historical stats, I'd argue that the defense is questionable. I don't disagree with the outcome, but how you defend the outcome is. Basically, I'd be much happier with an argument of, "Listen, Peyton Manning's there on the sidelines, and he's wanting the punt, and just about craps his pants when he see's that the Patriots are going for it. That makes it the right call."

That said, I was pretty shocked when the Patriots actually went for it, and didn't just try to draw them offsides. I'm pretty neutral about the effectiveness of the Belichick decision, but I loved it. I think that the probability of the outcome is close enough to defend either position, and I generally love counterintuitive thinking done by confident people. That said, I absolutely hated the fact that the Patriots screwed up 3rd down and burned their last timeout (which kept them from challenging the spot on the last play).

Now this past week, we had another interesting situation with Mike Tomlin of the Steelers deciding to kick an onside kick, right after his team had taken a 2 point lead, with 4 minutes left to go in the game. Basically, Tomlin's argument is that he's going 2-for-1, like they do in basketball all the time. You see arena football teams onside kick as the clock winds down so that they get the "extra" possession. Here, Tomlin's saying that the best-case scenario is that you win the game outright if you get the ball back. And with the worst-case scenario, his guy (who had already thrown for 400+ yards) will get the ball back with about 1:30 left and 75 yards to go needing a TD for the win. Interestingly, Tomlin was perfectly fine with the worst-case scenario, which was a lot like the punt scenario. So, here you see both aspects of the Belichick decision. Of course, the counterintuitive thinking leading to the gutsy call is evident. But the worst-case scenario that Tomlin accepted was very similar to what Peyton would have been working with after the punt that never happened. And we got to see how both things played out. Tomlin's initial counterintuitive though backfired, and the Packers got the ball at the Steelers' 39. But Big Ben got his hands on the ball with 2:06 left and used every second to march 86 yards and get the W.

I suppose if you were to take Tomlin's outcomes and map it back to Belichick, our hero Genius was left with a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. Which is what the pundits love, since everyone gets to pile on, regardless of how well-informed they are.

-Chairman

Tragic Heroes

I believe that if I had to make a list of the things that define American culture (I know that our haughty Euro friends may claim that as an oxymoron), high on my list would be the idea that people are worthy of 2nd, 3rd, and 4th chances. We love the idea of Greek tragedy, characterized by the idea that flawed people can rise to greatness, and then be overwhelmed by the situation and fall. Think about how we embrace our heroes who have fallen from grace. I don't think that this forgiveness extends to institutions or organizations, but people? We are overwhelmingly forgiving to people.

I think that Americans love the idea that Willie Loman can actually turn things around and be somebody again. This is the country that is willing to pay millions of dollars to convicted criminals so that we can hear their story, and see how they are going to come back. Where else in the world can you see the mayor of the nation's capital be convicted for possession of crack cocaine, not pay his taxes, and win election after election in landslides? At times, our society can be vulturous. There are few things that we like more than tearing down successful people. Think about how quickly we were to label Tom Cruise a nutjob, and our obsession with TMZ.com and the other tabloids that capitalize on our need to tear others down.

I think that this is particularly the case in sports. We simultaneously put Michael Jordan on a pedestal for his achievements on the hardwood, and loved hearing about Michael Jordan's failings as a person. I'd go as far as to say that one of the few things that Americans love more than a story about a hero is a story about how a hero falls. Don't get me wrong. We love our heroes. We loved McGwire and Sosa back when they were chasing Ruth and Maris, and defended them (and more importantly, "our" moment), even though we had some idea that they were probably dirty. We kept Lance Armstrong's name sacrosanct, even as he decided to leave his wife and kids for a pop musician.

But, boy do we love it when stars fall. We latched on to Kobe's he-said-she-said drama in Colorado a few years ago. We've made Pac-Man Jones a common name amongst sports fans and "making it rain" a common phrase in wanna-be thugs. We're immersed in Tiger Woods' current fidelity issues. We love it when we see that our idols are human. We forget that the people are often savants - functionally marginal people if it weren't for their athletic talent. We forget that these people don't have to learn the social niceties that the rest of us are required to engage in (full disclosure - the author has been talented enough to have never actually perform these social niceties and is speaking purely hypothetically).

Another aspect of Greek tragedy is that the hero is able to see their mistakes, and may be able to right them. If there's one thing that we like more than our idols falling, it's the idea that these people can again rise, with the benefit of, theoretically at least, learning from their mistakes.

A few years ago, Converse had a Dwayne Wade promotional campaign that I really liked.

Fall 7 Times. Stand Up 8.

We love it when people keep getting knocked down, and keep standing up. Professional wrestling always knew this. Think about our childhood heroes like Hulk Hogan (or Ric Flair if you were a WCW guy). Think about how the bad guy would beat on them, knock them down, bloody them, and put them in a sleeper hold. The ref would come by to see if the champ had been put to sleep. They would lift their arm once, only to have it limply fall to the side. And it would happen a second time. And the inevitable third time would result in a loss for the champ. As the ref lifted the arm, and let it go, it would fall limp, but just as it was about to fall into the nadir, there would be redemption. The fall would stop. A fist would be made, and the arm would slowly reach to the sky. An elbow to the side. Another elbow. Perhaps the bad guy would try to punch the hero, only it would be blocked and returned with a punch from the champ. And another one. There would be some running into the ropes, followed by a clothesline. Then a body slam. And then the finishing move from the champ, who would ultimately snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. That's what we love.

Perhaps proponents of the postmodern era would say that many of these archetypes don't work as effectively. We've gone from the pure hero, to embracing the sort-of bad guy. Think about how much more popular guys like Stone Cold Steve Austin or The Rock were in the WWE when they became "bad guys." Things were no longer black and white, good versus evil. We think that the White Knight is a little too good to be true, and we decide that the Man in Black could just as easily be fighting for a worthy cause. We tolerate flaws in our good guys much more readily, and we look for redemption in out bad guys. I don't know if I would call it postmodernism. After all, these are the echoes of the stores that have come with civilization. Even as Saul chased David throughout the Old Testament, we see this pattern of evil followed by repenting, and we see the anguish in David over Saul's demise. We see the flaws of Hamlet and MacBeth, even as they seek to right the wrongs committed against them and their families.

What we often forget is that in Greek tragedy, the protagonist's ultimate fate is death. We see the rise to glory. We see the fall from grace. We see the change in their ways, and perhaps the righting of wrongs. But ultimately the price that is paid is the demise of the protagonist. Perhaps modern interpretations had become too happy, with audiences demanding the happy ending. And perhaps postmodern is really code for classical. But the protagonist's fate remains. Which is why the story is a tragedy.

RIP Chris Henry, who I hope has died a tragic hero, and not simply without cause.

-Chairman