Why it's Ridiculous to Complain About the "Human Factor"

Two nights ago the Pittsburgh Pirates and Atlanta Braves played a 19-inning game with playoff implications. It ended on a play at the plate that commentators immediately screamed was wrong. As has become the routine, people called once again for the use if instant replay to fix the "terrible calls" by umpires.

One of those (literally) yelling yesterday for instant replay was ESPN's Mike Greenberg, who used the typical line about the ridiculousness of preserving the "human element." "In every other area of life we try to mitigate human weakness, but not in major league baseball," he said.

This morning, however, he changed his tune, though without acknowledging it. When it was pointed out that by NFL standards requiring "indisputable visual evidence" to overturn a call this one probably would not have been changed, Greenberg said that in this case the approach should be different. "When the throw beats the runner by five feet like this one did, I think the umpire needs to see indisputable evidence that the defensive player did not tag the runner ... that's just common sense." When Greenberg's partner, Mike Golic, disagreed, and said that the only question should be whether the tag was actually applied ("we see a lot of phantom tags in baseball") Greenberg insisted that the situation should matter.

In other words, it's not only a factual question (whether the catcher tagged the runner or not), but an interpretive one (whether the situation ought to call for a default judgment.) That's something only humans can do.

And despite the vehemence of those on talk radio, I'm still not certain the guy was out.

Supporting Gay Rights with Gay Jokes?

Michelle Cottle, of The Daily Beast dicusses Michelle Bachmann's gay problem: apparently, the virulently anti-gay presidential candidate is married to a man many people suspect of being gay. To add intrigue, though not surprise, to the story, Marcus Bachmann is also virulently anti-gay, and even runs a program designed to "untrain" gay youth. Cottle focuses on the problem from Bachmann's perspective -- how she might counter the political effects of her husband being ridiculed as gay when she is so angrily anti-gay.

I'm more interested in the tension inherent in making fun of the guy because he's gay in the name of defending gay rights. Cottle refers, in particular, to a bit on the The Daily Show, in which Jon Stewart skewers Bachmann for hypocrisy. It's clear where Stewart's sympathy lies: he says repeatedly that the "gay repression therapy" Marcus Bachmann practices is "harmful to real people," and even brings in Jerry Seinfeld to extend the skit and reinforce the point. He then uses the opportunity, though, to spout a string of one-liners about gays. ("He's so gay he buys Brawny paper towels just for the label." Or, "He's so gay he refers to Top Gun as that beach volleyball movie."

These are not homophobic jokes, per se. They are jokes based on stereotypes, but so is just about everything Stewart does. The larger question, though -- and I really do not know the answer for sure -- is whether we advance gay rights by making fun of the guy for being gay.

American Sports and the Concept of Fairness

This is only a partially-formed thought, derived in part from my previous post.
I find it odd, though, that American sports commenters have a different idea of fairness that much of the world. On ESPN yesterday Scott Van Pelt whined about how "you can hit a perfect shot" at the British Open, "and still end up off the fairway." He said "you wouldn't design a golf course like that now, but it's called 'Royal' so what are you going to do?" My colleague in favor of disposing of plate umpires said the same thing: if you were inventing the game now, you would not use human umpires."
Somehow these people have reached the conclusion that if a player or a person does his job perfectly the sport owes him success. But that's not true. Success is not owed. Sometimes we do everything right and fail. Sometimes we get lucky and succeed despite ourselves.
Only the most privileged people on the planet, as we Americans are, could believe that bad luck should never play in.

Epistemology, Justice and Baseball Umpires

Major League umpires have endured a lot of flack recently, both from players and from the wonks at ESPN. The complaint is that they miss too many calls, as judged from instant replay. A colleague of mine even suggests that plate umpires ought to be replaced entirely, and that a computer like the one used on TV should call balls and strikes.

In a very limited number of cases I agree with these comments. Mostly, though, I think they are misplaced. Instant replay might serve a useful purpose from time to time, but in most circumstances I think it would make the game worse, not better. Of all proposals, the one to have machines call balls and strikes makes least sense.

First, let's remember why we have umpires. Until very recently, it was not assumed that they could be perfect or near-perfect mirrors of "reality." They were there to manage and faciliate the game, to make it fair. In this view, still appreciated by most players and coaches, a good umpire is consistent and efficient, and thus allows the game to be played at a good pace and on an even "playing field." A good umpire will be impartial, so any "missed" calls will balance out in the long run (and probably in the short run, too.) Bad umpires in this view are inconsistent and/or arbitrary, and make the game more difficult and frustrating to play; no one knows quite to expect and so can't adjust his own actions to any clear standard. This conception of officiating dominates the world of sports; note that when refs missed calls in the World Cup most people reponded with confusion when Americans suggested that instant replay be instituted.

Second, we should consider the relative merits of camera angle and human perception. Before going any further, let me dispose of the idea of balls and strikes being called by a machine. The process of explaining why this is a bad idea, no matter what you think the job of an umpire is, will then help elucidate my ideas on other electronic interventions.

The rule says

The STRIKE ZONE is that area over home plate the upper limit of which is a horizontal line at the midpoint between the top of the shoulders and the top of the uniform pants, and the lower level is a line at the hollow beneath the kneecap. The Strike Zone shall be determined from the batter's stance as the batter is prepared to swing at a pitched ball.

Notice: the top of the strike zone is a "midpoint ... determined ... as the batter is prepared to swing." In other words, it is not an absolute point in the universe that might be measured even with the most precise machinery. The rule (deliberately) includes a "fudge factor," as my high school chemistry teacher used to say. The ump must judge a midpoint, and he must judge when the hitter is prepared to swing. When ESPN or Fox superimpose those electronic boxes over the strike zone, then, some technician is making a judgment as to where those two points are (one in space -- the midpoint-- and one in time -- the moment the batter is prepared.)To pretend that the electronic box is any more "real" than what the ump says, especially when the difference might be a matter on an inch or less, is ridiculous.

Put another way, calling a strike is not a matter of observation in the pure sense, but a matter of interpretation. It requires the application of a rule (an abstraction) to the empirical universe. Only human beings can interpret. We can instruct machines to copy our interpretations, but we can not have the machine do the real work for us. No camera or computer interprets events, the person seeing the picture does. Those cameras only allow people to observe and interpret things in a different way. The "human factor" couldn't be removed even if we wanted to do so.

Plays in the field present a more interesting problem. In some cases, a camera can provide information that umpires ought to use. For example, balls hit just over a homerun line should be homeruns. Umpires can't always see those balls from their positions 200 feet away, and the outcome of the game might be determined quite directly by that one play. Instant replay should be used in such cases. Foul/fair balls, especially in the outfield, might be the same.

Close calls at bases, in my opinion, require the most complicated balancing. Recall that I said the ultimate object is to make the game fair. When an umpire "misses" a call at first base that requires three angles and super-slow-motion photography to see, his call is fair, one way or the other. Frankly, the base might have been positioned 1/4 closer or farther from home plate than the rule says, and that could be the difference. Get over it. The (in)famous Jim Joyce call last year is the counterpoint. He was wicked wrong, and use of replay might have served him well.

"Phantom tags" present the most difficult issue of all, in part because they often incorporate an unofficial, "unwritten" interpretive component. When the ball beats the runner and the fielder gets a tag in the general area of the runner's body, it has long been understood that the guy is out unless he is making a deliberate and extraordinary effort to evade the tag. The rule does not say this, but the fact has generally been accepted as fair. That's the way I see it. You could make a case, however, that this view is essentially arbitrary, that it should not be that way. You might convince me.

So here's my solution. Add a fifth official to every game. He would sit in the booth and watch the game on TV. If he saw a call -- not a ball or strike, but anything else -- that needed to be changed, he would change it. There would be no appeals, no limits on the number of overrides, no timeouts, no bitching. The booth official would be a member of the crew just like the four umps on the field, would have most if not all of the same training, and would not be an outside force intervening to override the umps. He could combine interpretive skill and expereince -- a human perspective -- while using the observational tool of the camera and slow motion.

In this way, we could recognoize the epistemological problem of the "right" call and still achieve justice>