Luck vs. skill

In "The Warriors Aren't Lucky", there is an examination of the role of skill versus luck in a variety of activities. The model shown below gives an outline for the article:

The range moves from skill to luck as you move from left to right. I found it interesting to note that investing is really something of a literal crapshoot. According to the author, Justin Fox, the skill of stockpicking really plays a very tiny role in the overall return. I guess there's a reason why people like Warren Buffet command so much respect!

I also found it fascinating that football requires the most luck of all of professional team sports. Perhaps that has something to do with the fact that because of the violence involved, playoffs in football are single contests. Chance can play a much greater role in the form of injured stars or freaky bounces. I suppose the Patriots would nod their heads in agreement as the Helmet Catch rolls on in the background.

Here is the link to the full article: http://www.bloombergview.com/articles/2016-04-14/the-warriors-aren-t-lucky

You still have to prove it

Original post:  June 8, 2015

Sports may not be to everyone's liking, but there are some aspects of competition that are directly comparable to our business world.

This weekend, American Pharoah faced the weight of history. Over the past generation, many brilliant horses had won the first two legs of the Triple Crown but fallen short at the Belmont Stakes. American Pharoah not only lived up to the hype, he also was able to leave no doubt by leading wire-to-wire throughout his race. The first Triple Crown winner since Affirmed in 1978 can now enter the history books as the first storied horse of a new generation.

In the tennis world, the French Open represents the second major title in the calendar year. For the women, Serena Williams won despite playing at less than her best due to illness. On the men's side, world #1 Novak Djokovic finally beat his clay nemesis, Rafael Nadal. Nadal had won nine of the previous ten Opens and had lost only once before in the tournament. After beating Nadal, it appeared Djokovic would finally claim his first title on clay. That would give him the career Grand Slam (a win at each of the four major tournaments)--something only seven other men in the history of tennis had ever accomplished. Unfortunately for him, victory in this tournament would elude him again. He was crushed by the sudden emergence of Stan Wawrinka, a talented Swiss player who had struggled with self-doubt despite his massive talents.

In the NBA, the Golden State Warriors played the Cleveland Cavaliers in the first two games of their best-of-seven series. Golden State was the most successful team in the regular season. They dominated the stronger Western conference and are highly favored to win the series. To add their fortune, Cleveland lost one of its star players earlier in the playoffs to injury. In a closely contested first game, the Warriors managed to offset the heroic efforts of the best player in the game, LeBron James and win in overtime. To add to the degree of difficulty, Cleveland lost another star player to a serious knee injury. It now appeared that Golden State would waltz to the title.

LeBron James was quoted before game two as being upset that the sports writers now seemed to dismiss any hopes of Cleveland winning the title. In a spirited effort, Cleveland clawed to a two-point win in game 2 to level the series and wrest home-court advantage away from the favored Warriors.

How does any of this relate to the business world?

The competitive lives of any athlete are doomed to be brief. Age ends up robbing even the most gifted players of their talents. In the same way, our organization is loaded with potential. Despite our many advantages over our competitors, we will not succeed without an excellent total effort from our entire organization. Without incredible dedication and fortitude, we can't expect to win. We'll have to work extremely hard--knowing all the while that our competitors are waiting for the slightest bobble to take advantage of their opportunity (Nadal, Djokovic and Wawrinka). Even when the stars seem to align and point the way to victory (as in the Golden State example), you still have to perform when the time comes. If we do, perhaps we can live up to the advance billing (like American Pharoah) and enter the history books as champions!

If we are really consistent, then perhaps we might one day aspire to Serena Williams level of greatness. She just won her 20th major championship. There are only two women in history with more--Steffi Graf with 22 and Margaret Court at 24. She won her first major in 1999! Sixteen years of excellence in a grueling sport like tennis (where most players are washed up by the time they turn 30) is truly impressive.

Rich data, poor data

Original post:  Mar 12, 2015

Yesterday, I posted about a math whiz who is trying to help clinicians understand who gets cancer and why (Dr. Data). I believe that there are many mysteries that are ultimately "solvable" with the proper application of statistical analysis. The trick is in getting to that proper analysis. Sometimes you don't have any data to analyze. Sometimes you have so much that it is difficult to tell the chaff from the wheat.

We have often heard that healthcare is different from other industries. It is, but it isn't always a positive. There have been many articles written recently that talk about the wide variance in cost between medical procedures. I plan to post next week about one article I saw that found the exact same blood procedure could be priced at $10 or $10,000 depending on where you had the procedure done.

When you have an industry that considers itself an outlier, one of the best ways to help it change is to use models developed in other industries and adapt them to fit to the specialized nature of healthcare. I believe that data analysis is similar.

This article from FiveThirtyEight by Nate Silver discusses the use of data analysis in sports. Sabermetrics in baseball helped pave the way for detailed analysis in all the major sports. Theories that once were held only by fringe elements are now considered mainstream. It's hard to believe that when I was a boy, only a handful of people understood what "on base percentage" was and, more importantly, why it figured so prominently in baseball! Today, we routinely accept nuggets of information like the distance each player is estimated to have run in the course of a soccer match ticking across the bottom of our screens.

Mr. Silver goes on to explain why statistical analysis has done so well in sports.

1. Sports has awesome data. There are not just reams of statistics everywhere you turn. It is also rich data. Silver defines rich data as accurate, precise, and subject to rigorous quality control.
2. In sports, we know the rules. With a common understanding of the goals and objectives, we can generally agree on those measures which show gains or losses.
3. Sports offers fast feedback and clear marks of success. "Winning", as defined by the rules of the game, becomes the ultimate arbiter of success. With regular intervals of games adding rich sources of new data, you can test theories quickly and determine whether or not they are achieving the results you expected.

Here is a link to the full article:  Rich Data, Poor Data | FiveThirtyEight

Super Super Bowl

Original post:  Feb 2, 2015

What a whipsaw of emotions. I could not believe how many swings of fate there were in the game. To make matters more interesting, my seven year old had declared earlier in the week that he was rooting for the Seahawks. He even brought home an art project with a "football guy" in blue and green. All through the game, he kept up a steady stream of needling comments. When Seattle jumped ahead in the second half by ten points, it just added salt to the rapidly developing wounds. As the Patriots slowly fought back, he still remained confident. He was very sure that they would repeat their heroics at the end of the first half and score the winning touchdown. As they flew down the field and added a miraculous circus catch, he was certain of victory. To be honest, I completely expected it. Then the impossible happened and the Pats got an amazing interception by a rookie to pull out the win.

While the rest of the family started to celebrate the unbelievable finish, my wife noticed the sobbing heap in the corner. My little guy was inconsolable. It took a good 20 minutes before he was composed enough to get to bed.

As silly and inconsequential as sports seem, they still have an ability to tap into some of our deepest emotions. They can draw us in and find ways of making us care in so many ways--often even more than we would care to admit. For a little while, they can even help us feel more alive. Of course, tying your fate to the unpredictable nature of professional sports can also expose us to crushing defeats. Having survived both sides of the equation, I can speak from personal experience. Still, I'm glad my boys are becoming sports fans. Life itself has its share of ups and downs. As devastating as the losses can be, our ability to persist in the face of adversity can help guide us toward ultimate victory.

Once we had safely tucked the boys in bed and lights were out, my wife decided to call it a night. She went upstairs and then came down again fairly quickly. In the darkness, she had heard my older son (the Pats fan) climb into his brother's bed and console him. I could not have been prouder of him.

When your child can do what you could not

Original post:  Sep 16, 2013

My oldest boy will be eight in December. He loves sports and shows a natural talent at many of them. I will not say he is any type of superstar. I will say that he is far more advanced than I ever was at his age.

When I was a boy, I always wanted to play quarterback. My big problem was that I lacked the physical skills. I could throw decently, but not nearly as well as the other boys. My son, on the other hand, can throw it much farther and more consistently than any of the other boys on his flag football team. One of the coaches noticed it in the practice before his second game. They immediately set to work in practice (even though he had never played quarterback before) and had him start the game. He ended up completing one long pass in the game and the team went on to win, 19-0.

I am obviously happy that he is doing well. I am even more pleased that he seems to be having a lot of fun. At the same time, I have these strange wistful feelings. I wish I could share with him how much I had wished to be doing the same things he gets to do now. I just don't want to burden him with the emotional baggage of a middle-aged man. He should enjoy his triumphs on his own with the pure joy that is childhood.

I am looking forward to watching his talents develop over the years. Whatever happens, I am sure the journey will be memorable.

The fear of losing

Original post:  Jan 21, 2013

We decided to let my seven-year-old watch the Patriots game last night since there is no school today. At the end of the game, the tears in his eyes were much more painful than the final score.

When my son plays in the backyard, his teams never lose. He is now beginning to get to the stage where he cares deeply about sports. In a way, I envy his ability to invest himself so completely in the scores. I would imagine that the victories taste sweeter when you care that deeply. Of course, the lows are also even deeper. I guess that losing doesn't bother you unless you actually care about the result.

My passion for sports has dimmed a bit. I used to care more than I do. Some of it is the natural by-product of the added responsibility of having a family. There are days when I don't have the time or energy to follow as closely as I once did. Perhaps I've also become a little too satisfied. The teams I root for have all been able to claim a championship at least once in my adult life so that makes the stakes of any individual season that much lower. That said, I do miss the adrenaline rush of getting lost in a tense moment. I still get excited, but it's just not as do-or-die as it once was.

A famous athlete once said that they were motivated by the fear of losing. This athlete said that the winning felt good in the moment, but that the losses would just gnaw away like a gaping wound that could not be closed. I think I have some small sense of what they meant.

Whenever my team loses, I inevitably find myself going over all of the turning points. There are usually a few critical moments where a different action or an altered decision could have changed the final result. Once that starts, it's really difficult to turn it off. Sadly, this is the version of me that doesn't care as much as he used to about sports. If I cared as much as my son, I'd be a total wreck!

The good news is that kids are much more resilient than we might think. By this morning, he seemed to have pushed his sadness aside. I'm sure that in a few weeks he'll be reminding me that pitchers and catchers are due to report in Florida!

Activity versus Effectivity

Original post:  Oct 1, 2012

In yesterday's sports section, Bob Ryan wrote an interesting opinion piece. He was trying to explain the difference between "Sport" and "Entertainment." In his mind, we are drawn to sport to see an athlete or team compete and possibly win. The outcome is not known prior to the event being contested. That tension and uncertainty results in entertainment. He was very quick to stress that the emphasis should be on the sport and not the entertainment.

In order to highlight the difference between the two, he brought up the fiasco involving replacement referees in last week's Monday Night Football game between the Seahawks and the Packers. A controversial decision that looked to all eyes to be wrong stole the victory away from the Packers and awarded it to the Seahawks. While it was tremendously entertaining--sparking days of passionate discussion about the event and the circumstances leading up to it--it had nothing to do with the sport itself. If anything, it undermined the legitimacy of the contest.

In the same way, at our company we often have to make sure that we do not allow activity to substitute for effectivity. There are times when we seem mired in endless meetings that cover the same points. We should not lose sight of the end goal of reaching some tangible objective. There may be a need to sacrifice some of the activity so that we can reach the more important goal of effectivity.

As I begin a series of discussions with industry peers on the complex world of data standards, I'll try to keep the difference in mind.

The agony of defeat

Original post:  Jun. 10, 2012

After leading at halftime, the Celtics finally succumbed to their younger, more talented foe. In the early part of the series, they used their wits and guile to replace the energy and depth they sorely lacked. Their hustle put them a game away from the Finals. Unfortunately, that was where their road ended.

Sports can be a cruel master. There are always winners and losers. The gap between the victor and the vanquished can sometimes be a single play made or missed. Oddly enough, you often learn more about yourself when you do lose.

My six-year-old is learning that lesson now. His backyard baseball version of the Red Sox has never lost a game. Even if they trail by ten runs, you can be sure that there is a miracle in the bottom half of the ninth inning. Last year, he would throw tantrums and fits if he ever lost at a board game. He would sob uncontrollably even if he started to fall behind. In the past few months, he has started to learn to lose his fear of failure.

We were playing chess recently. When I taught him how to play, we used a simplified version of the game to help him learn the rules. I would also find some way for him to eke out the win. He has since learned to play real games without any aids. This time, I decided to take the training wheels off. I actually beat him. Three times in a row. I was interested to see how he might take it. Instead of getting upset, he immediately asked to play again. He was getting frustrated, but he was channeling the emotion into an attempt to improve. I helped coach him a bit more to think about his moves and helped him in the final game.

I want my son to be a sports fan. There is very little I wouldn't do to be able to go back in time and play on my high school teams. Though the games themselves are long forgotten, the thrill of competition can be exhilarating. Caring about a sports team also means that you are subject to the rise and fall. In some ways, it's not about the highs and lows. It's about being in the game.

If you are interested in another take on raising a child to care about sports, here's a link to one I liked from Bill Simmons:  The Consequences of Caring

Fifty shades of grey

Original post:  Apr. 26, 2012

Last night, the Boston Bruins lost in overtime. The world of sports can be cruel. In "sudden death" overtime, the first team to score wins. It doesn't matter if it is through some one-in-a-million fluke or the result of brilliant choreography. Any score results in the black and white of a winner and a loser.

I enjoy watching most sports. There is something compelling about the drama. When I was much younger, I remember being fascinated by the most obscure competitions. I would watch bowling or judo or archery even though I may have never done any of them in my life. Perhaps it was a brief escape. Perhaps it was just the ability to revel in either victory or defeat. Whatever it was, it was somehow comforting to have the finality of a result (even if it was negative).

The world at our organization is decidedly more complicated than that. It can often be hard to tell whether or not a decision is the correct one until well after the fact. Many times, there is no real "correct" decision. The individual or team must make some decision on a subject and deal with the consequences. Instead of a final result, we often find ourselves in a labyrinth where one turn leads to another without any end in sight.

One of the ways I try to judge my work is to gauge whether or not it helps advance in the general direction of an overall positive outcome. It may not be a "perfect" decision. It may not even be the best possible decision. As long as I feel that the team is heading towards the objective, in my opinion we are making progress. Sometimes that is all you can do...

A Nation in panic

Original post:  Apr. 6, 2012

Talk radio is filled with hyperbole. That mentality has spread so deeply that it is difficult to get away from it in any format. It seems like the competition for attention has gotten so bad that if anything is called "good" it is automatically discarded. It has to be "the best ever" in order to even be discussed at all.

We see this magnified in sports talk. If a team wins the championship, they are automatically entered into a discussion of "best ever". If they win more than one, the talk of "dynasty" begins. The converse is also true. A string of a few losses and you are on the discussion of "collapse" begins. The only saving grace on the downside is that it can be really tough to enter the "worst ever" discussion because there does seem to be a lower threshold. If you haven't lost the most games or the most games in a row, you (thankfully) don't qualify.

Here in the Boston area, baseball season began yesterday. The off-season was filled with grumbling because we didn't spend inordinate amounts of money chasing high-priced free agents in an attempt to leverage our way to the World Series. There were even some whispers that the team might stumble to a fourth-place finish with a payroll of over $180 million. The screams have intensified now that we dropped the season opener in excruciating fashion. It doesn't help that we allowed our best relief pitcher to sign with a rival for $50 million and replaced him with someone who will now be recovering from thumb surgery for a few months.

It must be really difficult to be a professional baseball player. The season is 162 games. The crushing pace of games averages out to about five per week from April through the end of September. You have to sustain peak performance at a relentless pace against players who are often nearly as good or better than you at all times. One injury could literally be the end of your career. Through it all, you must learn to block out the howls of the crowd who will turn on you during a prolonged slump even if you are (or once were) a superstar.

I think there's a lesson in there. It may involve fortitude or perseverance. Or perhaps it is just about survival.

There are days when it doesn't seem all that different at work....

The next "fill in the blank"?

Original post:  Dec. 27, 2011

I read an article on media criticism. There are two local sportscasters who host the radio show during the Patriots games. They have both been doing the show for decades now. Unfortunately, they are also not as sharp as they once were. Recently, they have been having problems identifying the correct players or understanding what is happening on the field of play. It can be difficult at times to follow their calls of the game. On radio broadcasts, you have nothing but what you hear to recreate the contest in your mind. If that picture is distorted, then so is your view.

There is a furious debate going on in the local paper. Most of the comments to the article are critical of the author of the piece. Many of them come from people who remember the pair in happier times. Some of the comments pay respect for a long period of excellence that excuse their current sub-par performance. A few comments remark that the author is bravely stating what most people know but are unwilling to admit for fear of being perceived as impolite or disrespectful. The truth is that by any objective measure, these sportscasters are not performing well at their basic function.

The world of sports is often quite cruel. The very nature of sports strives to create winners and losers. This is especially true in the brutal competition of professional sports. There is often no mercy shown (nor none expected).  It is a constant battle to prove your mettle with a thousand others waiting for the smallest stumble to take your place.

We often lionize top performers. The best of the best are celebrated as champions. Yet even as the victory celebrations die down, there is an instant search for the next heir to the throne. We constantly compare the latest crop of stars to the legends they are attempting to replace. Last night, quarterback Drew Brees broke a record Dan Marino set 27 years ago. Is he the next Dan Marino? Can LeBron James become the next Michael Jordan? Can (star of any sport) become the next (legendary superstar of yesteryear)?

It's human nature to believe that those we knew when we were at the height of our powers are the best that ever were. As I age, I find myself actively trying to combat the impulse that the world is not as wonderful as it once was. The truth of the matter is that there is a vast difference between the way things are now and how they might have been before. It's not necessarily better or worse. It is just different.

It's humbling to think that in my child's kindergarten class, there might be someone who will one day reach heights I could never imagine. They may be achieve more in their lifetime than I ever will. Right now, they are just a normal six-year-old child more worried about the time left until recess. The point is that we just don't know. That intern I meet tomorrow may one day be the next CEO.

Some of the greatest tragedies recount the tales of individuals who are filled with incredible potential and fail to match those lofty expectations. The immense pressure to succeed can derail even strong-willed and talented individuals. Sometimes it is better to start without fanfare and use that anonimity as stealth to build strength and skill away from the harsh glare of cynical outsiders.

In any case, I'll stop worrying about trying to be the next <fill in the blank>. I'm going to resolve in 2012 to be the first me and work from there.