One of TV’s best shows at the moment is
Mr. Robot, a drama that, in part, examines the modern world’s connection to and relationship with technology: what a hyper-connected society has given to us and taken away; how freedom of choice can also lead to isolation of experience; the emboldening nature of anonymity and the amplified anxieties of existing within cyber-communities.
But if you’re of a particular vintage and recall when technological integration first began, you know this larger issue of technology and society hardly is new. In arguably
his most famous monologue, the late, legendary pro wrestler Dusty Rhodes talked about people who’d been in a job three decades, only to be handed a watch and told a computer took their job. And Rhodes wasn’t speaking a few years back, or even 10 years ago, when he captured the essence of people's fear. This was 1985, when home computers were the size of furnaces, and when portable phones required you to carry around car batteries to keep them running. The fear of technology eventually devouring us has been there just about as long as technology itself.
As a result, the technology/humanity debate has extended through all corners of our lives: in film (celluloid vs. digital); in transportation (Uber vs. taxis, and, more recently, self-driving vehicles vs. human-operated cars); and, of course, in virtually every sport, professional or otherwise. Those debates show no signs of slowing down – especially in the hockey business. Whether it manifests in the form of video review, advanced statistics, or as far back as the heyday of late coaching innovator Roger Neilson, the place of technology in the NHL and the game in general has been questioned for years, and will continue to be debated whenever the opportunity presents itself.
And in the past few weeks, a number of those opportunities have emerged. Two Canadian teams – the Oilers and Canadiens – made personnel changes in their advanced statistics departments, and did so in the wake of consummating major trades that didn’t play well in advanced stats communities. To some, these developments marked a stinging rebuke of those who seek to quantify player evaluation as specifically as possible; to others, they represented evidence of the sport’s default rigidity and over-reliance on traditional judging methodology.
In truth, though, neither polarized position is true. The people who believe advanced hockey statistics have little to offer to an environment of contained chaos are actively ignoring the significant strides NHL franchises have taken in sports science and the value additional information can add to processes that precede major roster decisions. And the people who believe the human element must be shoved to the side so as to let data be the chief driver of teams’ talent transactions are going to great lengths to disrespect those who’ve experienced the benefits of positive team chemistry.
To be clear (because this is usually where people begin getting surly), in no way, shape or form am I suggesting we defer to players and management members who’ve “been there”, nor am I denying that confirmation bias and after-the-fact rationalization take place. Every NHLer and executive deserves their share of scrutiny, and it’s immaterial whether that scrutiny originates from their peers or from fans and media who’ve never played a game of hockey in their lives. If you can’t find a way to explain the thinking behind the choices you make, there’s very likely a problem with the choices you make.
But the arrogance of some hockey lifers who cling to the “If you haven’t played, you can’t comment” philosophy is being matched by a number of advanced stats proponents who sneer and snarl at former players who don’t fall in line with their philosophies. It’s one thing to disagree, even if you disagree vehemently with someone. It’s another thing entirely to pretend your viewpoint and knowledge base has produced a championship team and given you the high ground in any argument. If there was one way to produce a Stanley Cup-winning squad, every team would be doing it; the complexities and variables involved in any situation can throw off a seemingly foolproof mathematical blueprint for success.
Besides, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to have more appreciation for people who attempt to serve their ultimate goals through ambassadorship and a teaching spirit rather than ridicule. For instance, I’m sure You Can Play Project co-founder Patrick Burke would’ve loved nothing more than to lampoon some individuals who stepped into homophobic territory at one point or another; instead, he and the organization adopted a more conciliatory tone with “offenders”, recognizing that, if they really wish to effect long-term change with people, they need to maintain some degree of respect and open line of communication with them.
That’s how I feel about the advanced statistics debate these days. I’m completely willing to be convinced there’s a bigger place at the table for quantifiable information, and have no doubt advanced stats will become more accepted as the years go on. But I’m going to consider the arguments of advanced stats experts who demonstrate an empathy for the larger group and a genuine interest in educating it before I listen to the too-cool-for-school snarkoids, if I listen to them at all.
Think of this discussion as an intellectual offensive zone entry: by carrying your argument into the opposition’s territory with delicacy, care and nuance, you’re far more likely to maintain possession and give yourself a better chance to score.
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