- Jun 9, 2002
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OpinionJournal link so you can send this to all your friends and neighbors.
This might make sports interesting enough to care again ... naw.
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What's Your MCM?
Sports stats that would really tell you something.
BY BOB BRODY
Wednesday, February 2, 2005 12:01 a.m. EST
It's all well and good for sports fans to know how many assists a point guard delivered behind his back to 7-foot centers hailing from south of the equator. And which lead-off batter laid down the most bunts in the eighth inning of a tie game under a full moon threatened by a thunderstorm. And which field-goal kickers are most likely to score from 40 yards or more in a domed stadium that needs to consolidate its debts by next Tuesday.
That's a given.
We sports fans love sports statistics, and none of us more so than the businessperson. We, with our spreadsheets and eye on the bottom line, identify with the practice of keeping score. Home runs and touchdowns mirror our billings and our profits. Every point is a sale transacted, every game won a new account brought in. For us, batting averages and field-goal percentages approximate the visceral thrill typically reserved for teasing truth from an actuarial table.
Why else are corporate skyboxes so often monopolized by auditing firms?
Which brings us to this Sunday's Super Bowl (or, as it's numerically known, Super Bowl XXXIX). As it happens, announcers at the Big Game this year are expected to cite a statistic every 27 seconds. That's up 19% from last year. But it's time sports statistics went beyond the merely athletic. We should create stats that better reflect how these days, with fans knowing as much about salary caps and incentive clauses as passes completed and punts returned, sports is mostly about business anyway. We should come up with stats that look at the overall athlete, off-field and on. Stats that promise to enhance Sarbanes-Oxley compliance, in the process whispering sweet nothings to the accountant who lives inside each of us. Herewith, some proposed new metrics:
CQ (Comeback Quotient). Certain athletes suffer a trauma--anything from injury and disease to a paternity suit and a cocaine habit bad enough to grow a third nostril--yet bounce back to compete again, more marketable and merchandisable than ever, thanks to support from family, teammates and, of course, The Big Guy Upstairs. Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry excelled here (with Ricky Williams perhaps someday a contender). The better the encore performance (to wit: a first no-hitter), the higher the tally. Figured by a sliding scale that multiplies degree of difficulty by after-tax revenues from the inspirational tell-all book that reveals the event in kindergarten that triggered, say, the nightmarish descent into substance abuse.
ROR (Rate of Renegotiation): Any self-respecting superstar fully appreciates that the most important piece of sports equipment is an aggressive attorney. Accordingly, no sooner does he sign a long-term deal, declared "good as gold," than he demands a new one--or to be traded immediately. Former Athletic-Yankee-Blue Jay-Padre-Angel-Met-Mariner-Red Sox-Dodger Rickey Henderson is as a frequent standout along these lines, with New England Patriots head coach Bill "Frequent-Flier Miles" Belichick, who set a short-tenure record when he quit as the New York Jets coach after one day, worthy of an honorable mention nod. Also referred to as the "Titanic Alert" (for the tendency to jump ship).
SOCI (Spirit of Collaboration Indices). Say hello to the be-all and end-all in gauging the most elusive of all sports concepts, team chemistry. Along with astrological sign, this classification, also known as PWWO (Plays Well With Others) calls for exhaustive lab tests on DNA, blood type and serotonin levels to pinpoint player-to-player compatibility. No less than 72% of the Patriots' players rank above average here, such clinical workups recently revealed. Renders a definitive verdict on a wide array of qualities, from a (positive) penchant for pre-game prayer circles and locker-room cheerleading to a (negative) routine insistence on separate travel and lodging arrangements (can you say Barry Bonds?).
TNI (Tabloid Notoriety Index). Any athlete who refers to himself in the third person, head-butts a paparazzo and marries an American Idol runner-up in Reno (annulled within 24 hours) obviously endears himself to would-be bad boys who live through and are inspired by his actions. Behold People magazine poster boy and Page Six standby Tom Brady, quarterback of the Patriots, whose storied college career included garnering three letters in dating. Other criteria range from hiring a publicist who dreams in bold-face type to sporting a hairstyle carved with coded messages to al Qaeda. Dennis Rodman is the gold standard, with Jim McMahon and David Wells also in the highest percentiles. Computed on the theory that loutish behavior spells broader box-office appeal, with all fines and suspensions pro-rated and squared.
MCM (Macho Coach Matrix). Clearly, coaches often behave much as we corporate desk jockeys might, provided we felt free to, say, fling a folding chair sliding crosscourt à la Bobby Knight. Now, to tabulate random acts of virility, here's a foolproof benchmark, recently certified by the Wharton School of Business. Key giveaways range from spitting pumpkin seeds in the dugout and shooting your cuffs capo-de-tutti-capo-style to barking at reporters who ask dumb questions and wearing a facial expression that seamlessly crosses a scowl with a sneer (Mike Ditka, anyone?). Following every permutation of the Pythagorean Theorem, the stat takes into account variables as telltale as going hoarse only 15 minutes into the first game of the season, owning a steakhouse and posing for Cigar Aficionado, as well as a knack for speaking Cliché in six languages and a tendency to salute during the "National Anthem."
PFB (Potential For Brandability). Here at last is a sure-fire means for predicting which athletes can be most readily translated into commercial endorsements. For the highest marks possible, think Tiger Woods meets Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb meets Wayne Gretsky meets Brandy Chastain. An easy-to-use grid juxtaposes personal characteristics--the ability to speak fluent Sound Bite, smile on cue (cry, too), get right with God (bonus points), commandeer magazine covers (double bonus points) and score a touchdown without making a cell-phone call from the end zone--against opportunities to plug sneakers better engineered than anything from NASA.
EF (Entourage Factor): Any self-respecting superstar demands a phalanx-like retinue, tooling around in a supersize Hummer limo, bling-bling flashing. A state-of-the-industry conga line might feature, besides the conventional accoutrements--divorce lawyer and flavor-of-the-month pop tart--a body double and forensic CPA. Inspired by the first coming of Deion (Call Me the Centerpiece to the Cosmos) Sanders (in a league by himself in this regard), the yardstick looks at annual expenses incurred and square footage occupied--all correlating directly to dimensions of the ego of the athlete in question--with extra points given for hangers-on whose presence serves no otherwise readily recognizable purpose.
So there you go. Someday, we'll no doubt overhear George Steinbrenner say that a given athlete has a killer SOCI and a promising CQ, but his EF is at a standstill and he needs to lower his ROR and his TNI if he's ever going to have a prayer of raising his PFB. Suddenly, for the first time, the numbers will actually add up.
Mr. Brody has written about sports for Esquire, GQ and Men's Health.
This might make sports interesting enough to care again ... naw.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
What's Your MCM?
Sports stats that would really tell you something.
BY BOB BRODY
Wednesday, February 2, 2005 12:01 a.m. EST
It's all well and good for sports fans to know how many assists a point guard delivered behind his back to 7-foot centers hailing from south of the equator. And which lead-off batter laid down the most bunts in the eighth inning of a tie game under a full moon threatened by a thunderstorm. And which field-goal kickers are most likely to score from 40 yards or more in a domed stadium that needs to consolidate its debts by next Tuesday.
That's a given.
We sports fans love sports statistics, and none of us more so than the businessperson. We, with our spreadsheets and eye on the bottom line, identify with the practice of keeping score. Home runs and touchdowns mirror our billings and our profits. Every point is a sale transacted, every game won a new account brought in. For us, batting averages and field-goal percentages approximate the visceral thrill typically reserved for teasing truth from an actuarial table.
Why else are corporate skyboxes so often monopolized by auditing firms?
Which brings us to this Sunday's Super Bowl (or, as it's numerically known, Super Bowl XXXIX). As it happens, announcers at the Big Game this year are expected to cite a statistic every 27 seconds. That's up 19% from last year. But it's time sports statistics went beyond the merely athletic. We should create stats that better reflect how these days, with fans knowing as much about salary caps and incentive clauses as passes completed and punts returned, sports is mostly about business anyway. We should come up with stats that look at the overall athlete, off-field and on. Stats that promise to enhance Sarbanes-Oxley compliance, in the process whispering sweet nothings to the accountant who lives inside each of us. Herewith, some proposed new metrics:
CQ (Comeback Quotient). Certain athletes suffer a trauma--anything from injury and disease to a paternity suit and a cocaine habit bad enough to grow a third nostril--yet bounce back to compete again, more marketable and merchandisable than ever, thanks to support from family, teammates and, of course, The Big Guy Upstairs. Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry excelled here (with Ricky Williams perhaps someday a contender). The better the encore performance (to wit: a first no-hitter), the higher the tally. Figured by a sliding scale that multiplies degree of difficulty by after-tax revenues from the inspirational tell-all book that reveals the event in kindergarten that triggered, say, the nightmarish descent into substance abuse.
ROR (Rate of Renegotiation): Any self-respecting superstar fully appreciates that the most important piece of sports equipment is an aggressive attorney. Accordingly, no sooner does he sign a long-term deal, declared "good as gold," than he demands a new one--or to be traded immediately. Former Athletic-Yankee-Blue Jay-Padre-Angel-Met-Mariner-Red Sox-Dodger Rickey Henderson is as a frequent standout along these lines, with New England Patriots head coach Bill "Frequent-Flier Miles" Belichick, who set a short-tenure record when he quit as the New York Jets coach after one day, worthy of an honorable mention nod. Also referred to as the "Titanic Alert" (for the tendency to jump ship).
SOCI (Spirit of Collaboration Indices). Say hello to the be-all and end-all in gauging the most elusive of all sports concepts, team chemistry. Along with astrological sign, this classification, also known as PWWO (Plays Well With Others) calls for exhaustive lab tests on DNA, blood type and serotonin levels to pinpoint player-to-player compatibility. No less than 72% of the Patriots' players rank above average here, such clinical workups recently revealed. Renders a definitive verdict on a wide array of qualities, from a (positive) penchant for pre-game prayer circles and locker-room cheerleading to a (negative) routine insistence on separate travel and lodging arrangements (can you say Barry Bonds?).
TNI (Tabloid Notoriety Index). Any athlete who refers to himself in the third person, head-butts a paparazzo and marries an American Idol runner-up in Reno (annulled within 24 hours) obviously endears himself to would-be bad boys who live through and are inspired by his actions. Behold People magazine poster boy and Page Six standby Tom Brady, quarterback of the Patriots, whose storied college career included garnering three letters in dating. Other criteria range from hiring a publicist who dreams in bold-face type to sporting a hairstyle carved with coded messages to al Qaeda. Dennis Rodman is the gold standard, with Jim McMahon and David Wells also in the highest percentiles. Computed on the theory that loutish behavior spells broader box-office appeal, with all fines and suspensions pro-rated and squared.
MCM (Macho Coach Matrix). Clearly, coaches often behave much as we corporate desk jockeys might, provided we felt free to, say, fling a folding chair sliding crosscourt à la Bobby Knight. Now, to tabulate random acts of virility, here's a foolproof benchmark, recently certified by the Wharton School of Business. Key giveaways range from spitting pumpkin seeds in the dugout and shooting your cuffs capo-de-tutti-capo-style to barking at reporters who ask dumb questions and wearing a facial expression that seamlessly crosses a scowl with a sneer (Mike Ditka, anyone?). Following every permutation of the Pythagorean Theorem, the stat takes into account variables as telltale as going hoarse only 15 minutes into the first game of the season, owning a steakhouse and posing for Cigar Aficionado, as well as a knack for speaking Cliché in six languages and a tendency to salute during the "National Anthem."
PFB (Potential For Brandability). Here at last is a sure-fire means for predicting which athletes can be most readily translated into commercial endorsements. For the highest marks possible, think Tiger Woods meets Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb meets Wayne Gretsky meets Brandy Chastain. An easy-to-use grid juxtaposes personal characteristics--the ability to speak fluent Sound Bite, smile on cue (cry, too), get right with God (bonus points), commandeer magazine covers (double bonus points) and score a touchdown without making a cell-phone call from the end zone--against opportunities to plug sneakers better engineered than anything from NASA.
EF (Entourage Factor): Any self-respecting superstar demands a phalanx-like retinue, tooling around in a supersize Hummer limo, bling-bling flashing. A state-of-the-industry conga line might feature, besides the conventional accoutrements--divorce lawyer and flavor-of-the-month pop tart--a body double and forensic CPA. Inspired by the first coming of Deion (Call Me the Centerpiece to the Cosmos) Sanders (in a league by himself in this regard), the yardstick looks at annual expenses incurred and square footage occupied--all correlating directly to dimensions of the ego of the athlete in question--with extra points given for hangers-on whose presence serves no otherwise readily recognizable purpose.
So there you go. Someday, we'll no doubt overhear George Steinbrenner say that a given athlete has a killer SOCI and a promising CQ, but his EF is at a standstill and he needs to lower his ROR and his TNI if he's ever going to have a prayer of raising his PFB. Suddenly, for the first time, the numbers will actually add up.
Mr. Brody has written about sports for Esquire, GQ and Men's Health.
