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Excerpts from two Sports Illustrated articles about Garry Kasparov tangling with Deep Blue: Th first is a jokey piece supposedly written by the IBM chess computer itself after losing a five-game series to the Russian in 1996, and the second is a matter-of-fact declaration of the rise of the machines in 1997, when the laughter stopped for good.

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From “I Was a Just a Pawn!” February 26, 1996:

“When I was just a chip, my motherboard used to tell me, ‘D.B., if you can’t process something nice, don’t process it at all.’ But Mom never went through what I went through last week, when world chess champion Garry Kasparov humiliated me, an IBM supercomputer, four games to two.

All week I kept hearing these grandmasters and chess nerds saying, ‘Deep Blue’s advantage is that he doesn’t feel pressure, emotion or anxiety.’ Yeah, right. I’d like them to spend a week in my outlet. You want pressure? It took six years to build me, man! They had a five-person team doing nothing but programming me for this one match. I can consider 200 million moves in one second! Kasparov can do, what, one, maybe two? IBM does not put five guys on a project for six years and expect to lose. That’s how you end up at the employee Montessori, with kids sticking jelly doughnuts in your serial ports.

I can hear all the snickering around the office now. I hear the other mainframes calling me Deep Blue It and whispering about how, any day now, the guys in the white coats are going to come and give me the big drag-and-drop. I’ll tell you what: If I had coasters, I’d get over there and teach them all about megahurts.

Sure, I lost, but how come nobody ever mentions that no computer had ever won one single regulation game from a world chess champion before I did? I won the first game from Kasparov. Stick that in your hi-memory! And how about the fact that I wasn’t even in the room with Kasparov the whole match. I wasn’t! They made me stay in this crummy room in Yorktown Heights, N.Y., while some little guy in Philadelphia typed Kasparov’s moves into a desktop and fed them to me through a phone line. Let me ask you this: How good would Troy Aikman be if he had to read defenses from some Marriott 800 miles away? You talk about mo-dumbs.”

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From “Tangled Up in Blue,” May 19, 1997:

“In his 12-year reign as world chess champion, Garry Kasparov has earned a reputation for both brilliance and aggressiveness. He is widely considered the greatest player in history. But on Sunday afternoon, after resigning the sixth and deciding game of his match with the IBM supercomputer known as Deep Blue, Kasparov sat slumped and glassy-eyed as he awaited questions in a midtown Manhattan ballroom. ‘He looks like a DMV photo,’ cracked international master Mike Valvo.

Kasparov’s capitulation shocked everyone, coming just one hour into a game that he needed to draw in order to tie the match. Things had gone much differently 15 months ago, when Kasparov defeated an earlier version of Deep Blue 4-2 in Philadelphia. But since then IBM’s computer scientists had enlisted the help of four grandmasters, and this latest teaming of technology and human intelligence threw Kasparov some curves. In Game 5, for example, no one anticipated that with one of Kasparov’s pawns poised to reach the last file and become a queen, Deep Blue would simply ignore it and launch an attack with its own king. That stunning shift of focus set up a perpetual check and forced Kasparov to offer a draw.

‘The computer will be unbeatable in five or 10 years,’ says Frederick Friedel, an expert on artificial intelligence and computer chess who served as one of Kasparov’s seconds. ‘Garry will understand much more about chess, but he will still lose because he will make mistakes.'”

See also:

How many bowls of cocaine were inhaled during the 1970s pitch meeting for this Evel Knievel crime drama pilot? The template for the A-Team, minus Dirk Benedict’s considerable gravitas.

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From Joshua Green’s Businessweek profile of Boston Red Sox savior John Henry, a thumbnail sketch of the owner who initially married a Moneyball mentality to a big-market budget and has since overseen the franchise as its remade itself as a relatively austere and even more analytical organization:

“For so prominent a figure, Henry is a bit of a mystery. He limits contact with the press and, when he does communicate, prefers e-mail. In person, he’s so reserved that it often appears as if he’s working out a difficult algebraic formula in his head. Which is what he may, in fact, be doing. ‘He’s the most mathematically talented person I’ve ever met,’ says Lucchino, the team’s co-owner and chief executive officer. ‘I think that element of the game very much appeals to him. And he’s a competitive guy. He wants to win. He wants to measure his success. When you put it all together, he’s got more dimensions than most baseball owners.’

As different as he may seem, Henry captures baseball’s current era. A mathematical whiz who made a fortune as a pioneering trader of commodities futures, he’s part of a wave of owners from the financial world that’s sweeping professional sports. In baseball, this includes Tampa Bay Rays owner Stuart Sternberg, a former Goldman Sachs partner, and Milwaukee Brewers owner Mark Attanasio, founder of the investment firm Crescent Capital Group. All are keenly attuned to the statistical revolution that has upended the game and compete as vigorously against each other as anyone on Wall Street. Last year, Henry shut down his commodities trading firm to concentrate on his many other endeavors. In addition to the Globe (where I’m a contributor), he and his partners own the English Premier League soccer team Liverpool and a stake in Nascar’s Roush Fenway Racing team. But just as his trading algorithms did, baseball has furnished him with the most spectacular payoffs.

Henry provides an especially good lens into how the game is changing and why the Red Sox appear poised for further success. It isn’t just that financial types are applying their smarts to baseball, it’s that baseball success has come to hinge less on signing expensive stars, as George Steinbrenner’s Yankees once did, and much more on making smarter bets than the competition on which young players will emerge as the next stars. Winning in baseball is becoming a lot like winning in futures trading.”

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Evel Knievel was introduced to America in 1967, and six years later he was schmoozing with Johnny Carson as one of the most famous athletes in the world, provided you liberally define “athlete.” The ultimate alchemist, he turned trash into gold. Like a latter-day Houdini–but with nothing up his sleeve–the motorcycle jumper sold the masses on the possibility of death, just as many reality stars and celebrities do today with dysfunction and drugs.

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Heavyweight champ Jack Dempsey was one of the biggest things going in America in the Roaring Twenties, in an age when boxing was the king of sports. He was as big a star as Babe Ruth or Charlie Chaplin or Harry Houdini. Like all public figures of those days, Dempsey had a brand new audience to please: filmgoers, who could see his every imperfection in newsreels projected on larger-than-life screens. The boxer had added reason to be concerned about his punched-up mug: He wanted to make Hollywood movies. So during a three-year sabbatical from the ring, during which time he made more than ten silent shorts and starred in Manhattan Madness, Dempsey decided to get his nose fixed. From the August 10, 1924 Brooklyn Daily Eagle:

Los Angeles–Whoever opposes Jack Dempsey in the next battle for the heavyweight ring championship will have an opportunity to test his marksmanship on a nice new nose.

The world’s champion has gone into retirement with a bandaged face after bowing to the filmdom fad of having one’s nose rebuilt to suit the cameraman.

Since Dempsey had been publicly connected with the motion picture industry all summer, there was no way out of it, and accordingly the plastic surgeon was given permission to cut away a piece of the boxer’s left ear and put it where it would make his nose look like Valentino’s.

It will be a week, the doctor said, before the new nose can be unveiled.”

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Stunt cyclist Evel Knievel, destined for amazing fame but just an opening act at this point, makes his debut on Wide World of Sports in 1967.

He’s Not a Bird, He’s Not a Plane” is a fun profile of the late, great motorcycle daredevil from the February 5, 1968 issue of Sports Illustrated. The piece was penned by Gilbert Rogin, a novelist who was also SI‘s managing editor.

The article relays what a sensation Knievel was in the ’60s and ’70s. He dressed like Elvis and escaped death like Houdini, although the dark side of his appeal was the sick fascination of watching what would happen if he couldn’t avert disaster, as he jumped his motorcycle over rows of cars, hotel fountains and actual rivers.

Knievel had none of the sociopolitical significance of Muhammad Ali, but he shared the boxer’s keen understanding of Hollywood, hoopla and the hard sell. He went through a lot of money, broken bones, personal problems, a rock opera and a late-life religious conversion before his death in 2007. In Rogin’s piece, Knievel touted his desire to jump across the Grand Canyon (which never happened). A brief excerpt about his not-so-successful jump over the fountains at Caesar’s Palace on the last day of 1967:

“On New Year’s Eve, Knievel jumped the ornamental fountains in front of Caesars Palace in Las Vegas, which are billed as the World’s Largest Privately Owned Fountains. Several weeks earlier he had said, ‘I know I can jump these babies, but what I don’t know is whether I can hold on to the motorcycle when it lands. Oh, boy, I hope I don’t fall off.’

Knievel’s fears were justified. Shortly after the motorcycle hit the landing ramp, he fell and rolled 165 feet across an asphalt parking lot. Knievel is now in Southern Nevada Memorial Hospital, recovering from compound fractures of the hip and pelvis. ‘Everything seemed to come apart,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t hang on to the motorcycle. I kept smashing over and over and over and over and over, and I kept saying to myself, ‘Stay conscious, stay conscious.’ But, hey, I made the fountains!’”

From Robert Andrew Powell’s Grantland article about El Paso betting heavily on minor league baseball and a new (seemingly needless) downtown stadium, a beautifully written passage about how Vietnam vet Jim Paul purchased a struggling Double A franchise for $1000 in 1974 and drew up the Veeck-ian blueprint for the wry, family-friendly entertainment success that the bush leagues have become:

“On the blackboard, Paul mapped out Kazoo Night. Ten-Cent Beer Night. Country Days, of course, and also an appearance by a then-obscure touring mascot called the San Diego Chicken. At one game, Paul tried to set a record for the most soap bubbles blown at one time. He placed a 120-foot-long banana split in the outfield, handed plastic spoons to every kid in attendance, and invited them to race out and eat as much ice cream as they could. When creditors repossessed the stadium’s organ — money was always tight — Paul bought a tape recorder at Radio Shack and began playing the Rolling Stones and Janis Joplin over the loudspeakers. After Diablos home runs, fans placed dollar bills in the batter’s helmet, in gratitude. The ballpark was renamed the Dudley Dome even though it remained roofless. The PA announcer relayed statistics — “No team scores more runs with two outs than the Diablos!” — that he simply made up.

The Diablos, a Double-A team, began drawing overflow crowds even while the team trudged along in last place. The Texas League named Paul its executive of the year. Twelve months later, he won executive of the year for all of the minor leagues. A winter marketing seminar he launched in El Paso grew exponentially as his methods proved successful. The athletic directors of schools such as Notre Dame and LSU began showing up, joining executives from baseball clubs as big as the Houston Astros.”

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After seeing how bungled the instant replay and home plate collision rule changes have been in Major League Baseball, I prefer we wait for any more alterations to the game until Bud Selig has actually and finally retired. I’ve said before I’m in favor of balls and strikes being called robotically because of the high fail rate of umpires. The best of the men in masks are wrong on 9% of those calls and the worst 14% of the time. If the latter figure is acceptable, then maybe an umpire could be wrong 20% of the time here and there and not have it seem unusual. That could lead to games being fixed.

Which isn’t to say that any of the current MLB umpires would ever do such a thing, but subconsciously they’re swayed by something other than money: the reputation of the players. From Eric Chemi at Businessweek:

“The adage ‘your reputation precedes you’ neatly summarizes what we all suspect: People with better reputations often get the benefit of the doubt when they need it. Just how much reputation matters is open for debate, but two business school professors have taken a good shot. Using two years of data from Major League Baseball, Jerry Kim of Columbia University and Brayden King at Northwestern University found that behind-the-plate umpires are reliably more generous in their calls with highly regarded pitchers than they are with average hurlers (pdf).

The systematic bias persists, the researchers say, in spite of strong disincentive. Behind-the-plate umpires are quantitatively graded on their accuracy, and these grades help determine lucrative playoff assignments. Even so, for pitches hitting the exact same location, umpires are more likely to call a strike if the pitcher has a better reputation. More All-Star appearances means fewer called balls”

“The machine cannot lie,” said Leland Stanford, which may not be true much longer, but racer Jackie Stewart knew that humans certainly always could–especially to themselves–as he discusses his elaborate preparations for Monaco in 1972 with good friend Roman Polanski.

In 1976, when he was already showing the early, subtle signs of Parkinson’s Syndrome, Muhammad Ali sat for a wide-ranging group interview on Face the Nation, in which he was mostly treated as a suspect by a panel of people who enjoyed privileges that were never available to the boxer. Fred Graham, the Arkansas-born correspondent who’s distinguished himself in other ways during his career, doesn’t come across as the most enlightened fellow here. Ali is even ridiculously criticized for a planned “bout” against Japanese wrestler Antonio Inoki.

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It seems like every day this year brings word of yet another young MLB pitcher on the cusp of stardom who’s torn a ligament in his elbow and needs Tommy John surgery. It could just be a coincidental cluster, but if I had to guess I would think it’s happening as a result of pitchers consistently throwing too hard. Cy Young, a portly man who wore his belt north of the Fred Mertz level, did not throw fire all the time or he wouldn’t have lasted so long. Of course, it’s not likely he would have gotten many modern hitters out. Year-round training by players has made pitchers feel like they have to be in the 90s consistently or they won’t be able to compete with hitters. Perhaps they’re right. Even with no PEDs, training and technology has made for one amazing athlete after another stepping into the batter’s box.

In an interview with MLB Radio on Sirius, noted sports surgeon Dr. James Andrews offers numerous reason for what seems to be a trend of pitcher injuries: no off-season for some youth players, throwing too hard to impress scouts, trying to light up radar guns which have become omnipresent over the last decade, and high school pitchers attempting to throw beyond 80-85 mph which compromises their arms. I think he could have added abusive use by high school and college coaches who often overwork young hurlers..

In part 2 of the interview embedded below, the Birmingham-based doctor discusses the next wave of innovation after platelet-rich plasma injections for treating injured pitchers:

“The research we’re trying to do now is trying to add stem-cell therapy at the time of the surgical procedure to enhance the biological healing response. Now that’s not there to enhance their performance. That’s there to try to get them to heal and hopefully to heal stronger and heal quicker, so it doesn’t take a year and a half for a redo of a Tommy John procedure in a major league hitter. We’re beginning to investigate that. The problem is doing that scientifically because the players have all heard about it, and they’re coming in and requesting that you add a stem cell to their Tommy John procedure, so it’s getting out in front of us. I probably shouldn’t even be talking about it. That’s hopefully going to help us with the healing and decrease the re-tear [risk]. And hopefully help the ones we’re doing secondarily to be a little more hopeful that they’ll be able to return at the same rate.”

 

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Cuban baseball is a strange thing these days. It’s minor-league level, but there are a few amazing players mixed in, like Jose Abreu and Yasiel Puig, who are capable of thriving in the MLB. It’s generally thought of as rundown, impoverished and hopelessly mired in the past–like Cuba itself during the age of Mighty Castro at Bat–but advanced analytics have found an unlikely home in the island nation. The opening of “Béisbol Prospectus,” a new SI piece by Eric Nusbaum:

IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT in Havana’s historic Estadio Latinoamericano. Bottom of the 12th inning of the second game of a doubleheader. The hometown Industriales and Holguín are fighting for the fourth and final playoff spot in Cuba’s Serie Nacional.

Everyone still in the park—fan, player, coach, food vendor—is worn down to raw nerve. This game has seen a pivotal interference call, a runner thrown out at home and another doubled off second after tagging up early. Down 5–3 in the bottom of the eighth, the Industriales took a 6–5 lead, which they blew in the ninth.

Alejandro Aldama, 25, clings to a few rolled-up sheets of computer paper like they are a map to hidden treasure. He paces in the underground section of stands behind home plate. Watching the game from here, sunk below the infield grass, is like watching from a foxhole.

Aldama is cofounder and vice president of the Independent Group for Baseball Investigation (GIIB), Cuba’s first official sabermetric organization. The treasure map in his hand actually contains rosters and advanced stats. This year the GIIB is working with Industriales manager Lázaro Vargas, providing advanced statistical analysis, a first in Cuba for any team.

Four glaring light towers lean forward over the empty outfield bleachers and shine on Industriales outfielder Stayler Hernandez, who walks to the plate flirting with a .200 average. The fans above him whistle and blow noisemakers. Aldama wipes sweat from his brow. Vargas sits comfortably in the dugout as Hernandez settles into the lefthanded batter’s box.

SABERMETRICS—THE ADVANCED, computerized and occasionally counterintuitive analysis of baseball statistics—is beginning to take hold in Cuba.”

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From a really fun TED interview by Brooke Borel about the intersection of science and sports with former NFL punter Chris Kluwe, journalist David Epstein (The Sports Gene) and scientist Cynthia Bir, thoughts from the kicker about augmented and virtual reality:

Question:

With Google Glass, how do you see that technology changing the landscape of football—and other sports—in the future?

Chris Kluwe: 

I think it will initially shift the viewing perspective. People will now have another way to watch the game—from the athlete’s perspective. It’ll no longer be just the overhead cameras and the sweeping Skycam— you’ll actually be able to see what your favorite player did on the play from his or her perspective. That’s something that we’ve never really had up to this point.

From there, it leads to people becoming more comfortable with the idea of things like augmented reality and virtual reality, which leads into that being adopted more and more into everyday life. In the sporting world, that means augmented reality being adopted into the actual sports themselves. For football, you could have a projector that displays your next series of plays on your helmet as you’re running back to the huddle. Or something that highlights the receiver, or warns you if a guy is coming off your blind spot, for instance tackling against quarterback.

You see this a lot in the military—on displays in fighter jets, and I think they’re working on actual ground-based troop systems as well—there’s this filter of information between you and the world, an additional layer of information that you can use to enhance your own senses. I think we’re at that point right now where not a lot of people realize that, just like not a lot of people realized that the Internet was going to be something that spread and covered the entire world, or that cell phones would be as ubiquitous. No one even thinks of not having a cell phone, but there was a point when cell phones were big briefcase, clunky things that only executives on Wall Street had.”

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Much of the Internet is littered with hollow click bait, so that makes Richard Deitsch’s “Media Circus” column at SI a welcome anomaly. It’s always overstuffed with ideas and all sorts of interesting and provocative views. In his latest column, Deitsch presents a panel on race in sports media. It doesn’t disappoint. Here’s Gregory Lee Jr. of the Florida Sun-Sentinel answering the question, “How much racism exists today in the sports media?”:

Gregory Lee Jr.:

The landscape remains institutionalized. During my 20 years in the newspaper business, the path to landing a job is about who you know. Sports editors tend to hire people they are comfortable around, people who could have a beer with them. It still happens. How else would you explain that 90 percent of the sports sections are made up of white males? There are only four African American sports editors at large newspapers today. One day, while in the offices of the Boston Globe, I had a conversation about potential candidates with my boss Joe Sullivan. I rattled off names of people I thought would be good for our NBA opening. My boss did not really know the people I named, so I invited him to attend the National Association of Black Journalists Convention in Las Vegas in 2007 so he could meet people that otherwise he would not have had on his radar for openings. There he made many connections with people not only in the job fair; Joe went to sports-related workshops, receptions and parties to get to know the talented journalists that were in attendance. The Globe would eventually hire great people such as Marc Spears and Gary Washburn, and Joe has been to a few more NABJ Conventions to check out talent pool and connect with the membership.

The problem in the industry is we don’t have enough voices in the newsroom to shed light on the disparities there. There are not many people of color or women in editing positions who can influence decision-making. Joe and I were a great team because he knew I had access to a number of talented journalists of color due to my participation in NABJ and the Sports Journalism Institute, a program that helps minorities and women achieve careers in the industry. During my time at the Globe we brought in a number of talented people such as Jerome Solomon, Baxter Holmes, Julian Benbow and then Monique Walker (now Jones). But the key thing is editors should take personal responsibility in developing their own talent database and not rely on the company’s recruiter. As an editor, I am expected to know who are the talented sports journalists around the nation, regardless of color. I should not have editors continuing to call me to locate talented minority journalists. I am happy to be a resource and headhunter for my fellow editors, but it’s time for all of them to create their own pool of talent. If we do that, then our numbers will grow. An example of a double standard in sports media is that African American sports reporters are told the path to getting a column is to start from the bottom on the high school beat, work your way to a college beat and then cover a professional beat. A few years ago, a major newspaper gave a column to a white male who never had a major beat before. This person skipped over the entire process that African Americans were told they had to take. Let me tell you, that pissed off some of my friends in the business. Let’s be clear, there was no animosity towards the new columnist. The frustrations rests with the consistent double standards that still exist.”

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Edward O. Thorp, a mathematics professor who lives to bring down the house-the house being a casino–has focused a sizable portion of his career on mathematical probability in betting games. He also created, in tandem with Bell Labs unicyclist Claude Shannon, what is arguably the first wearable computer. The device, which was contained in a shoe or a cigarette pack, could markedly improve a gambler’s chance at the roulette wheel, though the bugs were never completely worked out. From a 1998 conference:

“The first wearable computer was conceived in 1955 by the author to predict roulette, culminating in a joint effort at M.I.T. with Claude Shannon in 1960-61. The final operating version was rested in Shannon’s basement home lab in June of 1961. The cigarette pack sized analog device yielded an expected gain of +44% when betting on the most favored ‘octant’. The Shannons and Thorps tested the computer in Las Vegas in the summer of 1961. The predictions there were consistent with the laboratory expected gain of 44% but a minor hardware problem deferred sustained serious betting. They kept the method and the existence of the computer secret until 1966.”

Thorp appeared on To Tell the Truth in 1964. He didn’t discuss wearables but his book about other methods to break the bank. Amusing that NYC radio host John Gambling played one of the impostors.

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Since baseball season has gotten underway (at least in Australia), here’s a rare video of Ty Cobb, one of the sport’s best players ever and one of the damndest sons of bitches to strap on the spikes, appearing in 1955 on I’ve Got a Secret. Seems like a sweet grandfather here, but he strangled to death at least eight or ten peanut vendors during his career. The first two players are Leon Cadore, who pitched an entire 26-inning game in 1920; and Johnny Vander Meer, who threw back-to-back no-hitters in 1938. Cobb shows up at roughly the 12:15 mark, just as Vander Meer walks off with his complimentary carton of cancer-causing Winston cigarettes.

I know it seems odd to not completely recall for sure, but I’m only fairly certain that in the aughts I interviewed the Professional Bowlers Association’s then-chairman Steve Miller, an erstwhile Nike executive who was charged with trying to rescue the formerly popular TV sport from the scrapheap. He encouraged his stars to scream for attention, to talk trash like pro wrestlers, to get into the gutter if need be. The games wouldn’t be fixed, but the sport would. But any gains have been marginal.

Anyone now a senior citizen can likely recall a time when top bowlers were envied for their earning prowess by NFL running backs, when Earl Anthony was as revered as Earl Campbell. Stunning, but true. The opening of “The Rise and Fall of Professional Bowling,” Zachary Crockett’s Priceonomics post:

“There was a time when professional bowlers reigned supreme.

In the ‘golden era’ of the 1960s and 70s, they made twice as much money as NFL stars, signed million dollar contracts, and were heralded as international celebrities. After each match, they’d be flanked by beautiful women who’d seen them bowl on television, or had read about them in Sports Illustrated.

Today, the glitz and glamour has faded. Pro bowlers supplement their careers with second jobs, like delivering sod, or working at a call center. They share Motel 6 rooms on tour to save on travel expenses, and thrive on the less-than-exciting dime of beef jerky sponsorships.

Once sexy, bowling is now synonymous with cheap beer and smelly feet. In an entertainment-saturated culture, has the once formidable sport been gutter-balled? What exactly is it like to be a professional bowler today?”

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In the 1970s, AMF, the sporting-goods manufacturer, sold a computer system and printer that would tabulate rankings of bowling leagues with the push of a button–the DataMagic Bowling Data Computer.

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In the years since the work of Eric Walker, Sandy Alderson, Billy BeanePaul DePodesta and others culminated in the literary and big-screen versions of Moneyball, baseball analytics has become a never-ending space race of sorts.

In “Beane Counters,” Jonah Keri of Grantland, no stranger to those trying to eke out wins on the margins, visits with “Brad Pitt” and Lew Wolff, the Oakland A’s owner, as the team with a terrible stadium and economic disadvantages tries to win its third straight division title. An excerpt:

While Moneyball the book and especially Moneyball the movie pumped up certain aspects of the A’s success while downplaying certain others (Messieurs Zito, Mulder, Hudson, Tejada, and Chavez would surely like a word), they perfectly pegged Beane’s distrust of industry insiders. While acknowledging that Melvin’s playing experience helped his candidacy for the manager job, Beane admitted to still harping on the value of outsiders’ perspectives when hiring people for other positions.

“I don’t want a lot of guys like me who played the game,” Beane said. “Quite frankly, I want blank canvases, I want people to come in with new ideas. I don’t want the biases of their own experiences to be a part of their decision-making process. Listen, our whole staff — [assistant GM] David [Forst] played at Harvard, but that doesn’t count because it’s Harvard — didn’t really play. The bottom line is that any business should be a meritocracy. The best and brightest. Period. This game is now evolving into that.”

Beane credited Michael Lewis for helping to spark that shift.

“That’s the best thing about the book and what it became,” Beane said. “I just talked to a young lady, a freshman at Santa Barbara. She’s taking a course, and Moneyball’s one of the required readings. This young lady could dream of one day becoming a general manager. That would have been much harder to imagine 15 years ago.”

One of those outsiders could be in the dugout before long, Beane said. Given the challenge of watching for subtle physical cues such as pitcher fatigue while also cycling through the many possible strategies and outcomes during the course of a game, managers and bench coaches would seemingly benefit greatly from employing a new aide.

“There will be an IT coach at some point” in the dugout, crunching numbers in real time and sitting right next to the manager, Beane said. The A’s have yet to actually create such a position for very practical reasons. “It would be an extra coach, and [MLB] is pretty strict — we aren’t even allowed walkie-talkies,’ Beane said about league restrictions on how many coaches a team can have, and what kind of contact they can have with the outside world during games. “But I believe at some point this will happen. There’s too much data that’s available not to want to use it.”•

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Were you good at Flappy Birds? Well, fuck you, because Magnus Carlsen, now 23, became the youngest chess player ever to be ranked number one when he was just 19. The king of pawns just did an Ask Me Anything at Reddit. Nobody asked him if he thought he could beat a nouveau version of Deep Blue, unfortunately, but a few exchanges follow.

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Question:

Do you ever struggle playing yourself age 23 in the Play Magnus app? I personally pride myself in beating you at 8 years old.

Magnus Carlsen:

I always struggle playing against Magnus 23. When playing younger “Magnuses” I’m occasionally successful.

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Question:

Hi Magnus! Even though you were International Master and Grandmaster early on, did you ever feel like you have plateaued with your game, that you did not think you could get better, or did you always know that you could be the best player ever? And if you did think you could not get better, how did you get better?

Magnus Carlsen:

Times when I was struggling, I always kept a very positive mindset. I thought that things would turnaround in the next game, or the next tournament. Eventually it did.

As for plateaued, I still feel that I have plenty to learn. It’s just about translating more knowledge into better play and better results.

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Question:

If you could play any historic chess player in their prime, who would it be?

Magnus Carlsen:

There are many options, but the first that comes to mind is Kasparov & Fischer, as well as Capablanca.

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Question:

Do you ever log onto sites like Chess.com, as an anonymous player, and just crush people for fun?

Magnus Carlsen:

Once in a while I’ve used some of my friends accounts and won a couple of games… or a lot…

Question:

Follow up question; when playing on Chess.com, do you ever run into a particularly tough opponent and run into a particularly tough opponent and think to yourself “I must have at least heard of him” because there are so few people that have even a chance to win against you?

Magnus Carlsen:

You’ll be amazed at the people I’ve lost to while playing online…•

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Carlsen and Liv Tyler for G-Star RAW denim and fashions:

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Putting up a post about the building of the Houston Astrodome reminded me of this old one about a young guru who believed in 1973 that he could levitate the enclosed stadium.

The world was strange in 1973, even stranger than it is today. That was the year of the three-day festival, Millennium ’73, when thousands of Vietnam War protestors gathered at the Houston Astrodome to hear the words of 15-year-old Shri Guru Maharaj Ji, who they believed was God. The attendees also thought that perhaps they could use their spiritual powers to levitate the stadium and make it fly, which would somehow stop the war.

i found a three-and-a-half-minute clip from the David Loxton documentary The Lord of the Universe, which captures some of the madness surrounding the teenage guru, who later changed his name to Prem Rawat. This segment particularly examines how the controversial event caused a deep rift between Chicago Seven member Rennie Davis and leaders of the Left, including Abbie Hoffman. 

Putting up a post about speculative, futuristic baseball stadiums reminded me of two facts about the building of the Houston Astrodome during the 1960s:

  1. At the 1962 groundbreaking ceremony of what was then called the Harris County Domed Stadium, civic leaders and local pols didn’t dig shovels into the ground but instead fired blanks from Colt .45 revolvers into the soil. (The Houston Astros were originally called the Colt .45s.)
  2. In preparing for the opening the stadium in 1965, the grounds crew vacuumed the field while dressed in spacesuits. 

It was a strange pair of christenings, marked first by the technology of the past and then of the future.

Sports Illustrated asked Populous, the stadium designer responsible for the two expensive clunkers currently housing the New York baseball teams, to imagine stadia of the future, the future being the 2030s. “Living Park,” a more organic and communal structure, is the answer the firm returned. An excerpt from Tim Newcomb’s article:

“Looking forward, there’s no need for the high-arching concrete and steel that separate today’s stadiums from the city around them. [Designers Brian] Mirakian anticipates ‘transformative stadiums that will really build a community.’ The glass structures horseshoed around Living Park, for example, aren’t just premium seating, but also serve to combine the city and stadium. A street front on one side that hosts everything from offices and apartments to retail and restaurants turns into a stadium portal on the backside, offering stellar views onto the field. Instead of rising out of the city, the stadium sinks into it.

Trending data suggested increased urban densification, giving Mirakian the idea to create a linear park environment that allows the building to play as the central theme—a place activated during a game, but where the community can gather at any time, during either the season or offseason. In this case, the building itself is defined by the edges of the city, acting as a window into the building on game days. There’s no need for fanciful facades, as the stadium instead flows with the park and city.”

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In the 1970s, Continental Airlines offered passengers electronic pong games in its on-board pub.  

By the time Moneyball was adapted for the screen, the sport had already moved on to next-level analytics, a steady stream of data that keeps bending around new corners. One of this year’s global improvements, showcased recently at the MIT Sloan Sports Analytics Conference, will be the exceptionally close reading of fielders’ body movements while they make plays, but each “nation,” each team, has its own mechanism for measuring every aspect of the game. From Evan Drellich’s Houston Chronicle article about “Ground Control,” the database that GM Jeff Luhnow is hoping will help reverse the fortunes of the grounded Houston Astros:

One of Luhnow’s favorite songs is David Bowie’s ‘Space Oddity,’ with the lyrics, ‘This is ground control to Major Tom.’ He happens to be a big Bowie fan and joked that the tune should play every time the site is accessed.

‘That was during my formative years,’ Luhnow said of his affinity for Bowie.

The project itself is permanently in a formative state. There are constantly new features and abilities to add, and what makes Ground Control so powerful is its customizability.

Teams don’t have to build their own databases. When Luhnow arrived, the club used a popular system sold by Bloomberg Sports, and it kept using Bloomberg while Ground Control was built.

Priority No. 1 for the club was getting Ground Control up in time for that year’s amateur draft. Just like this year and 2013, the Astros had the first overall pick in 2012.

By the end of 2012, or maybe early 2013, Ground Control had reached a fully functional state, although that’s a disingenuous characterization considering it’s perpetually in flux.

‘The analytical engine is separate from the interface, so there was a lot of work going on developing the database and developing the interface,’ Luhnow said. ‘The database you have to build right away, because you can’t analyze without having the data in the right format. The priorities were the database first, then the analytical engine, and the interface was a third priority.'”

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“And the stars look very different today”:

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While Muhammad Ali was suffering through his Vietnam Era walkabout, he “boxed” retired great Rocky Marciano in a fictional contest that was decided by a computer. Dubbed the “Super Fight,” the pugilists acted out the computer prognostications in 1969 and the filmed result was released in theaters in 1970. Marciano dropped a lot of weight and donned a hairpiece to provide viewers with some semblance of his younger self. Prior to the machine-driven bout, Marciano awkwardly stumbled onto a great description of this Singularity moment: “I’m glad you’ve got a computer being the man that makes the decision.” He died in a plane crash four months before the film reached theaters.

A week after the “fight” played in theaters, a Life magazine article ran photos from the film along with some text. “The result was dramatically uncomputerlike,” it offered. An excerpt:

The only two heavyweight champions who never lost a professional fight are Rocky Marciano and Cassius (Muhammad Ali) Clay, and this has provoked many a nonprofessional fight among their fans. So Miami Promoter Murray Woroner decided to make a hypothetical “Super Fight” of it, using a computer. First he matched the two champions and filmed 75 rounds of Hollywood-style fighting, finishing three weeks before Marciano’s death in a plane crash last summer. Then the skills and weaknesses of each fighter–as diagnosed by 1,500 sportswriters, fighters and managers–were programmed. The computer punched out a blow-by-blow reading and selected film segments were matched to it.

Seven possible endings were shot: a knockout, TKO and decisions for each man, and a draw. To foil any gambling capers, the seven endings were held in bonded secrecy until the last minute. When the film was shown at 750 theaters and arenas around the country last week, the result was dramatically uncomputerlike. Cut to simulated ribbons and even floored once, Marciano came back to knock Clay out in the 13th round. “It takes a good champion to lose like that,” Clay smiled afterwards.•

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