Quantum Mechanics, in an NBA Playoff Series

So lately I've been consuming plenty of "pop science" dealing with quantum mechanics, and its implications for real-world applications and technologies (e.g. Neil Degrasse Tyson's "Inexplicable Universe" series, or this not-so-new article about a "quantum computer").  The trouble with reading pop science about something as mathematically/experimentally dense as quantum physics is that the subject matter invariably gets distilled to an explanation that is simpler than is sufficient for true understanding.  Take, for example, Heisenberg's uncertainty principle, which was seared into the pop culture psyche by the inimitable Walter White (and which sparked, to some extent, such intrigue).  This principle, which defines the limit to which an observer can know certain properties of a particle simultaneously (such as position and momentum), is often conflated in circles of pop-scientific understanding with the more basic, intuitive concept of the observer effect, i.e. the observer, or instruments used by the observer, can have a material impact on the phenomenon being observed.  The idea of "quantum computing" hinges on the notion, supported by experiments in quantum mechanics, that a particle (or wave) can exist in distinct, separate states simultaneously (which apparently isn't without its detractors).
What does any of this have to do with the NBA playoffs?  Well, I recently read this article about the Wizards' playoff run, and my knee-jerk response was:  "WHAT UNIVERSE IS THIS?"
First things first:  I read Andrew Sharp pretty regularly.  I "get" his #HotSportsTakes, which (to the uninitiated) are none-too-subtle spoofs of the fawning cliche-casseroles characterized by the writing of Ricky Reilly and rest of the "old guard" of sportswriters - and I usually find them hilarious.  I usually enjoy his exuberant musings on how fun sports can be, usually operating in some way on the hypothesis of  "here's why [sporting event/story X] was awesome, and here's how social media/technology made it better." This is true of the Wizards article as well.  In short:  I didn't "not get" Sharp's article (I did not get, however, Mrs. O'Rourke's lesson on double negatives in seventh grade;) ).  I will also add that I watched somewhere between "some" and "most" of the series Sharp is covering.  I loved watching John Wall fly around the court at breakneck speeds, vacillating between unstoppable and uncontrollable.  As a Georgetown alum, I loved seeing Roy Hibbert rediscover at least some of his basketball identity; as a corollary, seeing this well-rounded but enigmatic Pacers team find its juju again was at least somewhat interesting.  So when I read Sharp's article, I was disquieted to be asking myself the question:  "what fucking series is he talking about?
Sharp makes his intentions as a Wizards fan/homer clear early on:
"If you don’t care about the Wizards, you should probably just go read another article about the actual playoffs."
Which is why my intention is not to refute anything Sharp says.  My point is:  Andrew Sharp, because of his observational position as a fanatic, experienced a completely different Wizards-Pacers series than I did.  I wasn't nearly invested enough to follow anything related to his series on twitter.  I only poked around Grantland once or twice to check in on Zach Lowe's coverage.  My consumption of this series was essentially limited to the actual game broadcasts, and the occasional ESPN or Deadspin homepage coverage.  I got a kick out of Marcin Gortat's performance, but I must have missed the story about his dad. I didn't "[spend] three weeks watching Marcin Gortat become the cult hero of the NBA."  I watched him have a pretty good/pretty entertaining series.  From my purview, I had no idea "Marcin Gortat took over the internet," - and in that stretch of time, I spent a respectable amount of time on the internet; I didn't watch  "Bradley Beal [turn] into the best young shooting guard in the NBA," I watched him outplay the best young shooting guard in the NBA (in Paul George).
But again, Andrew Sharp isn't wrong.  To him, the series unfolded exactly as he saw it (as an aside: I would agree with the claim that Sharp's experience, enjoyed collaboratively with other Wizards/basketball fans, and rewarded by further scrutiny of the games, was the more enriching sporting experience) Which brings me back to my point: the quantum theory of two-state systems (that's my point!).  Experiments in quantum mechanics have, quite counter-intuitively, concluded that a particle can exist in two separate states simultaneously.  For the non-particle-physicists out there (myself included), it's hard to wrap one's brain around this phenomenon.  It's hard to imagine, based on an understanding of "classical" physics, a chair existing simultaneously "here" and "there," but that is precisely what the mathematicians tell us happen to particles in these "quantum" situations. My hope is that the Pacers-Wizards series demonstrates the phenomenon in an understandable way:  the series existed, simultaneously, in two utterly separate states - one which was all-consuming and all-entertaining to the devotee, and another which was an unimportant distraction to a casual fan.  There's no news in saying that a game changes when you're more invested in the team; I'm just trying to draw a simple analogy to help someone understand a complicated idea.  Either that, or I am distilling this totally important, revolutionary concept to an oversimplification that actually obfuscates the concept I am trying to put into manageable terms.  Any NBA veterans with PhD's in particle physics that care to weigh in?   

Requiem for a Princess

The Stephens family hadn't always been dog people.  In fact, Lauren and I were more the "can you put the dog in the other room?" kind of kids - because we were mildly allergic, and because we were kind of wusses.  When our parents brought Killian home, this changed overnight.  We fell in love with her immediately, and quickly became "dog people" in the broader sense.  What I had once considered onerous tasks like walking her in the rain, or cleaning up her messes - things I told myself I would not deign to do upon her first arrival - became simple favors done out of love for a fellow family member.  I remember a marked shift in the way Chris Fleming's golden retriever, Max, greeted me after I had spent a month or two rolling around the floor with Killian: instead of being leered at as an intrusive outsider, I was tackled by a familiar old friend.  Killian's budding personality both infected and educated us - we were eager to learn what she was going to learn next.  Everyone who visited and had her jump up into their lap saw why we were smitten.
Killian was (at least ostensibly) brought in to keep my brother Eric company while his older siblings were away at school, and Dad was wary of how the "dog thing" would play out - would she be properly trained?  Mom saw to that.  Would she be walked and fed and cared for each day?  Mom set the routine, and everyone eventually climbed on board.  Somewhere along the line, however, Killian developed a unique kinship with her patriarch, my Dad, one that benefited both of them: she became a second daughter for him to dote upon.  With a once-bustling nest slowly emptying, Killian became the perfect activity (and, just as importantly, inactivity) partner: she would vigilantly "guard" the backyard from rogue wildlife (her utter inability to scare even the smallest rodent notwithstanding) as he swam or tended his backyard landscape; she would silently critique or endorse his latest canine culinary offering; he would come to oversee her care for her ailments, which would eventually include arthritis and (if you believe it, which I'm not sure if I do) anxiety. Far from Felix and Oscar, they simply became another happy case of dog-owner and dog.
There was a time when it seemed dubious to me that the personalities of dogs and their owners are reflections of one another; now I'm certain that Killian was as much a Stephens as any of the rest of us. Anyone who witnessed her race to individually greet each person who walked through the door knew she was a social butterfly, like us; anyone who saw her drop her bone on the tile to spring free the last morsel of cheese saw that she was a problem solver (not to mention an epicurean), like us; anyone who felt her nudge and bark her way into your farewell hug couldn't deny that she was endlessly affectionate, just like us. It's fitting that in her final days, Dad found himself jumping through hoops for her that a decade prior he might have called insane: sparing no expense for the finest veterinary care he could find; spending nights by her side in hopes that she might ask for a drink; chopping up the finest meats and cheeses to make her finals meals unforgettable (OK - he'd done that one for years).  Never one to perform many tricks, it was her last and finest as a Stephens: the salesman had been sold.
Killian survived a scary case of internal bleeding caused by the tumors that were then discovered all over her body.  She bounced back and was able to spend her last days in relative comfort and happiness with her family, her tail wagging at her adoring visitors to the very end.  She will be missed and never forgotten.                  

Today's Heresy: Lou Reed's Death Makes Me Miss MTV News

Of course.  As with the death of any legend, the news of Lou Reed's death takes us back to all the bad-ass places Lou  Reed's music took us:  locking eyes with a sultry stranger across a gin-soaked lounge in the East Village as "Take A Walk on the Wild Side" implored us to hold our gaze just long enough that we had no choice but to go dance with one another; smoking "hubbly-bubbly" with the patriarch of a conservative Muslim family in the Himalayan foothills of Kashmir, oddly inspired to write nonsense poetry about "All Tomorrow's Parties" as the stoned villagers hunt for ducks over picturesque Daal Lake, because even though you had no idea this place existed, you "& Nico" was the album you wanted to be listening to on repeat when you were here; jamming to the iconic changes of Sweet Jane around a campfire, warbling only the chorus because the neophytes didn't know the lyrics and the devotees were of course too banged up to remember them... and that's the obvious point:  Lou Reed's music took us to way fucking cooler places than other music, because Reed was way fucking cooler than other musicians.  In this era of 24 hour news cycles and fan-Wikis and blogs and blogs about blogs, the truest remaining measure of "cool" is remaining underrated despite the fact that all anyone ever talks about is how underrated you are.  This is Lou Reed underrated.  This is Lou Reed cool.

But what saddens me about Lou Reed dying in 2013, although he would not give a tenth of an iota of a flying feces about this, is the way Lou Reed's death will be digested by the public, and how the occasion calls for something "the occasion" probably has never called for before:  MTV News.

When Kurt Cobain committed suicide in 1994, it was the biggest news story in the history of MTV1.  I was stunned, mostly because my big sister was stunned, and everything I learned about how to consume, appreciate, and judge music was learned from her, but also because I knew this guy and his music, and Kurt Loder interrupted my viewing of the "Basketcase" video in order to tell me about it ("Goddammit Kurt Loder, you only ever say boring stuff!  Let's get back to Green Day!  Holy crap!  Kurt Cobain died?!  Lauren is crying.  I better listen to Kurt Loder.).  Regardless, I knew that Kurt Cobain was cool, and it was a big deal that he had died, whether MTV told me so or not.

A year later, though, Jerry Garcia died, and MTV interrupted my broadcast of Naughty By Nature's "Feel Me Flow" to tell me about it.  Ten year old me reacted in much the same way:  "Goddammit Tabitha Soren! You're not even hot!  Kurt Cobain was a big deal, but the old dude from the Grateful Dead?  I mean, the skeleton stuff in the "Touch of Grey" video was cool, but back to the videos!"

But MTV told me that this was a big deal.  There were candlelight vigils.  Crying fans.  Ice cream tributes.  Even the president was asked to talk about him!  Maybe there was more to this Jerry Garcia character than I had realized.  So I hunted through my sister's and my dad's mix tapes, and found some more Grateful Dead songs, and I discovered Casey Jones and Scarlet Begonias, and I discovered that some bands that I already liked were influenced by him!  Like Blind Melon and Sublime (sadly, Jerry influenced them in many ways)!  And I dove into reading about the endless touring, and made my dad tell me what DeadHeads were, and generally developed a deeper understanding and appreciation for the Grateful Dead, and music in general, and in turn, I eventually let Lou Reed's music take me to all those cool places.

All this because Kurt Loder told me this person was important.  What saddens me about Lou Reed dying in 2013 is that some ten-year-old kid who likes music will not have his Buzzfeed browsing interrupted to be told that this man, who just died, was important.  He may happen to click on a link to 15 of the Coolest Lou Reed moments (a link sponsored by Natural American Spirit cigarettes, mind you), or he may opt to peruse 19 More Funny Cats in Diapers instead.  That kid may miss out on a lot.  Where are you when we need you, Kurt Loder?  I need you.  The kids need you.  Lou Reed needs you.

Strike that.  There's no way in hell, where Lou is probably having a blast, that Lou Reed needs Kurt Loder.

1:  Approximation made by me based on absolutely nothing.

This Article Is Weird, Annoying, and Backward

This article by Barry Petchesky is a lazy mash-up of two headlines that are lazy in and of themselves: "Rex Ryan Don't Know Much O-Fense" and "Quarterback Rating is an Overrated Statistic" are hackneyed on their own; cobble them together and what do you get?  A messy, masturbatory exercise that essentially comes to the conclusion that statistics are useless because Rex Ryan likes them, which: huh?

Petchesky basically takes the position that Ryan... wait.  Let's take a look at the position Petchesky is taking:

"The amazing thing is at first, I was like, What is this?” Ryan said, referring to his understanding of passer rating. “It wasn’t that big a deal to me."

That was until Ryan realized the correlation between a higher passer rating and victory—fairly steady around 80 percent over recent seasons.

The correlation isn't a surprise. The passer rating formula takes into account completion percentage, yards per attempt, TD percentage, and INT percentage. If you win those battles, you're generally going to win the war. 

I don't understand.  We're holding it against Rex that he values a statistic that measures 'those battles that you need to win to win the war'?  If anything, we should be lauding Ryan for finally taking an "analytics-based" (lol) interest in the offensive side of the ball.    

But while compressing four separate statistics into a single one makes for simple shorthand, it tells you less about a quarterback than if you consider each one individually. 

 

If Petchesky were going to write an interesting article, it would have happened here.  How, precisely, does considering yards per attempt and TD percentage separately give the fan a clearer understanding of how his/her quarterback, or team, played in a given sample?  The answer to that question would make for a (mildly) interesting article. That article is not what Petchesky wrote.

But here's the kicker:  

It's like assuming Adam Dunn and Brett Gardner are similar players because they have near identical OPS figures.

Yikes.  OK first things first.  [hops on internets for 31 seconds].

Adum Dunn - Career OPS .861 / 2013 OPS .762
Brett Gardner - Career OPS .733 / 2013 OPS .759

So we can safely assume Petchesky means 2013 OPS.  We should point out that Dunn's season was one of (likely) decline, while Gardner in turn slightly overperformed his career marks.  Much more importantly: this analogy illustrates the point (completely undermining what we can only conjecture is Petchesky's actual point) that statistics which aggregate other statistics, while quick, dirty, and imperfect, can help us draw meaningful comparisons between players or teams that may otherwise seem apples-to-oranges.  No one who has ever watched baseball would ever argue that Gardner and Dunn are "similar players," but (gasp!) based on their OPS numbers this year, one might say that Gardner and Dunn were more comparably productive, offensively, than they had been in previous years.  That's the beauty of aggregating statistics!  And Rex Ryan loves them!  That, of course, is what we're talking about with this Adam Dunn/Brett Gardner analogy, right?  Right??  

To go one step further toward doing Petchesky's job for him:
Brett Gardner  OBP .352 / SLG .381
Adam Dunn  OBP .320 / SLG .442
Gardner and Dunn both put up very similar OPS numbers in 2013, in very different ways:  Dunn slugged his way to his ~.760, while Gardner OB'd his way to his.  Again, this deconstruction of these statistics could/would have been the "meat" of his article, but he glossed over the part that was the, er, "point."

To go two steps further toward doing Petchesky's job for him (is someone paying me yet?) (**this time using ultra-novel ACTUAL NFL FOOTBALL QUARTERBACK STATISTICS!):

Player:     TD/INT/YdsPerAtt/Comp%/Rating
7.  Locker  6 / 0 / 6.50 / 62.2 / 99.0
8.  Wilson 11 / 4 / 7.96 / 61.5 / 97.2
9.  Cutler  12 / 6 / 65.9 / 7.51 / 95.2

From this breakdown of traditional Quarterback Rating, we can say things like "Quarterback Rating overvalues INT's, as Locker's zero picks puts him in the top 7 despite a weak 6.5 yd/att," or "Quarterback Rating might lead you to believe Wilson and Cutler are totally comparable players, but this ignores Wilson's rushing numbers."  Again, Petchesky does not do this here.  He talks about how statistics only tell us what happened after the fact.  In baseball.   

It's tough to find a stat that's predictive. Giving significant weight to passer rating is akin to saying a quarterback is good because his quarterbacking stats are good. It isn't much more than a tautology.

Yes, dingbat.  Statistics allow us to keep track of and evaluate what happened in the sports that we watch.  That is their ontological purpose, vis a vis sports.  We can then decide which players to play, based on their performance, on the assumption that they can continue their performance.  Why am I saying this?  Oh, cause we're saying stupid, meaningless stuff?  OK.        

To kick a dead horse while he's down (or something):  Petchesky points out that quarterback rating "elides contributions from the other 21 players on the field."  But to hear Rex tell it, as he did in the post-game, you'd notice he has an almost holistic approach to QB rating.  He seems to understand that if his team has a good game, then his QB will have had a good rating.  Petchesky does not seem to understand that Rex understands this.  Or (more likely) he refuses to acknowledge it and writes what he wanted to write anyway, because it's easier and fits the Rex Ryan narrative.  How very ESPN-y of you, Barry.

The point is that if the NYT source article had been about, say, "number of plays" and "Chip Kelly," Petchesky would not be writing this article denigrating statistics as "unable to predict the future," but since Rex was finally agreeing with the VORPies (and again, not really - it's not like Rex was talking Football Outsiders' DYAR or even ESPN QBR ), Petchesky found it the right time to blast them.  I hate to defend Rex and his recent discovery of statistics, but this, I think, is even worse.  What a big mess. 

Rainbow Warriors: Golden State Warriors Come Out As First All-Gay Pro Sports Team

Photo from Warriors.com 

In response to veteran free-agent center Jason Collins’s announcement in Sports Illustrated that he is gay, the Golden State Warriors emphatically answered the question of whether or not there were more gay athletes to be found on the rosters of America’s pro sports teams.  In a statement issued late Monday afternoon, franchise point guard Stephen Curry declared, “The strong network of gay NBA players, coaches, and front office people has long been assembling a rolodex of gay players.  Only in recent years have they attempted to aggregate us onto one team.  Owners Joe Lacob and Peter Gruber have been incredibly supportive of the cause, making myriad trades and roster moves to assemble all the talent – double entendre intended – the Bay Area could handle.  We intend to ride - pun intended - this momentum into the second round of the playoffs in the name of Harvey Milk and in the name of lambskin leather pants.” 

In a memo, Lacob declared:  “The lynchpin of the whole endeavor was the Bogut trade,” in which the Warriors shipped away notoriously straight fan favorite Monta Ellis to the Bucks in return for Andrew Bogut and Stephen Jackson. “Obviously no one wants Stephen Jackson to poison their roster, but we knew we could move him back to the Spurs, where Gregg Popovich can turn discarded newspaper into viable guardplay.   And we knew we’d be rounding out our gay roster with the fabulous Richard Jefferson in return.”  Jefferson, Curry pointed out, is “literally the gayest player I’ve ever seen,” and fit right onto the nigh-exclusively-gay roster.  The timing of the Collins announcement could not have been better for the Warriors, who added ultra-gay rookies Harrison Barnes and Klay Thompson through last year's draft.  Barnes, last year’s number one pick, was heard saying, “When I heard [injured forward David Lee] hit the high notes, I knew I was in the right place.” 

In a comment to reporters, Lee bragged, “We totally could’ve swept the Nuggets if we didn’t commit our last 90 minutes of practice last Thursday to sticking the finale from Hair.  I won’t lie - I’m a total perfectionist.  I see myself as much an actor-director as I do a player-coach."  Asked if it played into stereotypes for the gay team to be based out of San Francisco, Lee wondered aloud, “Maybe it does.  But it was an ownership decision – and from the accounts I’ve heard, Lacob and Gruber slept together “within minutes" of meeting.”  Air-quotes and flair all Lee.