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Monday Q&A

The schedule obviously did not work out as planned. Such are the best laid plans of mice and men. We WILL run letters tomorrow, and then we'll take the next 5 days off.

If you are still working on the headline theme, know that we tried hard to work "Miranda" into a headline, but the only way to do it was by working in a Shakespeare quote, and there were none that worked and that were reasonably short.

Twenty Questions

A.T. in Elkton, MD, asks: How are you handling the AI mess in higher ed? One friend's response is to just mark everything he suspects a zero and wait for argument. My route so far seems to be channeling my mother and guilting the students into not using it, though like paying for someone else to write your paper, they seem to be tempted despite their best efforts.

Of course, our institutions, ever concerned about preparing young folks to be members of the labor market, are trying to urge us to get over ourselves and just teach AI, but obviously there is much resistance.

How are those of you who spend time in the classroom handling such things?

(Z) answers: I am really the only one among us who has to deal with this, as (V) is emeritus, (L) teaches law students, and (A) is not a teacher. I teach hundreds of undergrads each year, many of them very early in their college careers.

I use a two-pronged approach. The first is to make the (absolutely correct) case that if the students take shortcuts on their way to getting a diploma, they will cheat themselves out of a proper education. It is true that AI will probably be a part of their professional lives, but one needs to know the right way to do things before one can judge when AI is a useful tool, and if AI is producing work of the appropriate quality. And any student who graduates, and leaves themselves utterly reliant on AI as a crutch, will almost certainly find their job replaced by AI, sooner or later.

The second is to observe that AI has serious weaknesses, and makes a lot of mistakes, and a student who violates the rules of my course and uses AI to answer their quiz questions for them, or to write their essay for them, is almost certainly going to get caught, and then will pay the penalty (zero on the assignment the first time; F in the course and referral to the university for discipline the second time).

I back this up with various demonstrations, over the weeks we are together, of the shortcomings of AI. For example, I put real quiz questions into ChatGPT, where the students know what the answers are, and show that it is sometimes right, and sometimes produces answers that seem plausible but are WAY wrong.



M.S. in Highland Park, IL, asks: What Dutch cultural things do you think the U.S. would enjoy? For example, much of the world is jealous of Thanksgiving, free refills, and brunch.

(V) answers: I am not sure what counts as "cultural," so here is a mix:



I.S. in Cap Ferret, France, asks: I read online the Church of Scientology operates a detention center in California called The Hole. The facility is fenced and monitored by security guards. People who have stayed there say they were abused and were not allowed to leave when they wanted to as a form of discipline.

Why do the governor and legislature of California allow such a facility? This sounds like a textbook case of false imprisonment. No one should be confined to spaces without being charged or convicted in a court. Allowing groups to detain people in the name of religious freedom creates the perfect climate to enable abuse.

(Z) answers: The authorities have made several attempts to shut down that facility. They have run into three problems: (1) It is private property, which limits what the government can do without a warrant; (2) Scientology is recognized as a religion in the U.S., creating additional First Amendment barriers; and (3) It is nearly impossible to get anyone to say they are being held prisoner WHILE they are being held prisoner, because they are either True Believers or they are scared of leader-of-Scientology David Miscavige and the goon squad he commands.



R.S. in Ticonderoga, NY, asks: This came up while cleaning up after Christmas morning. My daughters tend to repurpose brown paper bags for wrapping presents. When it came time to clean up, I asked whether it was more eco-friendly to recycle the paper or burn it in our fireplace. We know that regular wrapping paper is not recyclable and contains dyes that shouldn't be burned, but my daughters pointed out that the scotch tape makes the brown paper non-recyclable and that burning the paper also means burning the tape, releasing those chemicals into the atmosphere. What's a conscientious person to do? It seems a shame to relegate the brown paper to the landfill—we ended up recycling after meticulously removing the tape. Is there a better option?

(Z) answers: Even brown paper bags have ink and other chemicals in them that are not good for the environment. I would suggest you did the right thing in choosing to recycle. However, it was not really necessary to remove the tape. The process by which the recycling takes place is set up to filter out non-recyclable components (staples, tape, ink, etc.).

This is just the opinion of a reasonably well informed layperson, though. It is possible that some readers will have more expert opinions, which we are happy to have at comments@electoral-vote.com.



L.H. in Chicago, IL, asks: Have you noticed how many so-called "Christmas" songs—the ones which get played ad nauseum just before Christmas and ONLY just before Christmas—aren't really about Christmas at all? They're just songs about, or taking place during, the winter season. Even "Jingle Bells" doesn't mention anything having to do with Christmas. You'd think that songs about snow and cold weather, and sleighs (so many sleighs!) would play well in January and February, but they never are played after December 25.

I suppose I can understand people thinking the many such songs with sleighs in them relate to Christmas because the only sleigh they are aware of is the one Santa Claus drives on Christmas Eve. But there are other Christmas-season songs which have neither Christmas nor sleighs mentioned at all. "Let it Snow," "Frosty the Snowman," "Baby, It's Cold Outside" (which, for the record, is about consensual flirting and not sexual harassment).

To make this into a question rather than just a rant, what do you think? Does the observation interest you at all? Do you think there would be an audience for such songs in the depths of winter instead of when winter is just warming up? Inquiring minds want to know.

(Z) answers: There is a great need for as many "Christmas" songs as is possible, as various entities, including grocery stores, department stores, some radio stations, etc. turn their entire playlist over to holiday songs from the point that Thanksgiving is over to the point that Christmas is over. For the stores, they can get by with maybe 30 different songs, though if they do, it will drive the staff mad by the time they hear, say, "Wonderful Christmastime" by Paul McCartney for the 100th time. (Z) speaks from experience on this point (seasonal employee at what was then Sav-On Drugs, Christmas 1990). So, the stores often have a longer playlist these days. Meanwhile, a radio station—terrestrial or streaming—needs at least 200 or so songs.

These songs have become so associated with Christmas, whether it makes sense or not, that they serve as reminders of the holiday. And so, up to and during December 25 they encourage listeners' sense of anticipation. Once December 26 hits, they serve as a reminder that the holidays are over, and that (for many people), several long, hard months of winter are still ahead.

So, I think the trend you observe is interesting, and I think it's also eminently explainable. If you look at the Spotify "top plays" lists for January and February each year, they include a bunch of whatever is "current" at the moment, and a bunch of songs about spring/summer/warmth, like "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles and "Spring Day" by BTS. Clearly, people don't want "cold" songs when it's cold outside and Christmas is in the rearview mirror.



D.S. in Layton, UT, asks: Are Die Hard (1 and 2), Lethal Weapon and Trading Places "Christmas movies?"

BTW, whether or not they are, Lady D.S. of Layton, UT, and I always kick off our Christmas season by watching Love Actually followed by Die Hard to make it even more satisfying when Hans Gruber gets thrown off the Nakatomi Tower.

(Z) answers: Alan Rickman did have a talent for playing heels.

Anyhow, it's a Christmas movie if Christmas is an integral part of the plot. I believe it was Roger Ebert who put it this way: "It's a Christmas movie if, through the events of the movie, Christmas is saved." That seems a pretty good rubric.

In the first two Die Hard films, Christmas is very clearly saved, for the various hostages/airplane passengers who survive in general, and for the McClane family in particular. Further, both films end with "Let It Snow," performed by Vaughn Monroe, which is well-established as a Christmas classic.

Lethal Weapon is a harder call. Christmas is clearly in the background of the film, and the final moments take place just as the Murtaugh family is about to sit down to Christmas dinner. However, the "issue" that is resolved by the events of the movie is not Christmas being saved, but instead that Riggs finally comes to grips with his wife's passing. I would say it's not a Christmas movie, for that reason, but reasonable minds can disagree.

Trading Places is not a Christmas movie. Yes, there is a Christmas party, at which Louis Winthorpe III dresses as Santa Claus. And yes, the Duke brothers give out Christmas bonuses to their staff. But the former scene exists to illustrate how far Winthorpe has fallen, while the latter exists to show how cheap and heartless the Dukes are. The key events of the movie actually take place on or about New Year's.

Incidentally, when people start to get extra-pedantic about these matters, (Z) is fond of pointing out that National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation is not a Christmas movie. The events of the movie conclude on Christmas Eve, so if you want to say it's a Christmas Eve movie, then OK. But there is no way for us to know what happened on Christmas, or whether it was saved, because those events are not captured by the film. And given the luck of the Griswold family, it's entirely plausible that things went off the rails on December 25.



D.H. in Boston, MA, asks: What are the best movies of the year (so far)? Sinners? One Battle After Another? Something else?

(A) answers: I haven't seen One Battle After Another, as I don't plan on ever seeing another Paul Thomas Anderson film. As of today, I've seen 92 films this year, of which about 60% were new releases. Here are my top five, in no particular order:

* - For these two films, I was fortunate to see them followed by a Q&A with the writer/director (one person in both cases) and an actor from the film (who was also the writer/director in one case), which added to my experience.

Honorable mentions: Together, Novocaine, Bob Trevino Likes It.

(Z) answers: (A) is the correct person to answer this question, for reasons that are presumably obvious. However, while I don't see anywhere near as many films as she does, I did see One Battle After Another, so I can at least answer that part of the question.

Like (A), I am in the minority who doesn't care for Paul Thomas Anderson's films. I find them to be bloated and heavy-handed. I also dislike false endings, which I regard as a cheap trick, and Anderson loves, loves, loves them.

While I had sworn off Anderson's films, I was persuaded to see One Battle After Another by the friend who was going to see it, and by reviews that said, in so many words, "This is a very different kind of P.T. Anderson film." While endeavoring to avoid spoilers, I can say that it was certainly more engaging than his films tend to be. However, it was also bloated—an hour-and-a-half of film squeezed into two-and-a-half hours.

Further, as a historian, I tend to contextualize films by thinking about what was going on in the world at the time the film is taking place. Anderson decided to simultaneously avoid committing to a timeframe, and yet at the same time to try to make a comment on current events. Most obviously, the group at the center of film is clearly a reference to the Weather Underground, which places the film in the 1960s. And yet, they engage in freeing immigrants who have been rounded up by the government and placed in prison camps, which suggests the present day. Then, the film jumps forward in time, which suggests the future, except that all the clothes and vehicles and other artifacts are 1990s/2000s. This makes things very muddy, and very unsatisfying. It also means that the film, while it has pretensions of making an important statement, doesn't actually say much of anything.

Finally, without saying too much, there is a false ending. The filmmaker shows you [X], which overwhelmingly makes you believe [Y] is true. Like, it is not POSSIBLE that [Y] is untrue. And then, a couple of scenes later, it turns out that [Y] is indeed untrue. And then, in the very next scene, [Y] promptly becomes true. What was the point of that false ending? Chekhov's Gun says "Do not show a gun in the first act unless you intend to have a character use it in the third act." Well, a corollary to Chekhov's Gun could be "Do not show the audience a gun, and then have it turn out not to be a gun at all." The Knives Out movies are great in this way, because they show you things that make you believe [X], but if you rewind or re-watch, you can see that the details showing [Y] were there, you just missed them. Anderson is not clever in this way, which makes his filmmaking kind of dishonest. I was so aggravated by the false ending that I actually made an obscene gesture in the direction of the screen.

I recognize that I am in the minority on this movie, in particular, and on Anderson, in general. However, the two people I know who know film the best are (A) and a longtime friend who teaches at UCLA. (A) has the same basic problems with P.T. Anderson films that I do. And the friend who teaches at UCLA, who sees all the critically praised films, and who very much likes films with bold artistic pretensions, shares my views on One Battle after Another.

By the way, there is much talk that Leonardo DiCaprio will win his second Oscar for this film. I was saying "DiCaprio is a very gifted actor" way back when others were claiming that he's just a pretty face (I say the same thing about Tom Cruise, who is criminally underrated by most filmgoers). These days, DiCaprio is regarded as a great artiste, which is on point, I think. However, One Battle after Another isn't among his five best performances, and maybe isn't even in his top ten. He was certainly better in The Aviator, Titanic, What's Eating Gilbert Grape, The Wolf of Wall Street, Shutter Island, Django Unchained and Inception.



J.C. in Fez, Morocco, asks: You have written about how the Chinese market dictates the nature of films because it's so big, and action translates well. But now, the Indian market is bigger. And, of course, you'll say that they've already got Bollywood. Fair enough. But why isn't there more of an attempt by American studios to break into the musical genre in India? Other than Bride and Prejudice, I can't think of any attempts. And Hollywood does have a rich tradition of musicals, even recent ones.

(Z) answers: It is hard to put into words, and I've never seen anyone who quite nailed it, but the aesthetic of Indian films is just... different than that of American films, and the gap does not seem to be bridge-able. Put somewhat crudely, what Indian moviegoers like is Rodgers-and-Hammerstein-style musicals, where there's a lot of plot, and then people occasionally break out in song. These days, American musicals, when they are made, tend not to be done in a classical style. Think Hamilton, for example, which neither Rodgers nor Hammerstein would be able to wrap their heads around.

On top of that, Americans respond to themes that are often very different from what Indians respond to. For example, the Wicked sequel is something of a Rodgers-and-Hammerstein-style musical. However, it is tapping into a deep and abiding cultural affinity for The Wizard of Oz, which Indians don't have. It's also a metaphor for race relations, which doesn't quite resonate with Indians. Indians want to see movies where the ideas are about things that are a part of their world, whether that is colonialism, or overcoming extreme poverty, or the caste system and its after-effects, or coping with arranged marriages.

Anyone who has not seen the Tollywood (the southeast Indian, Telugu language version of Bollywood) film RRR from a couple of years ago should really check it out. It was recommended to me by (A), and I saw it with her and her husband. Great movie, and it also gives a feel for why it would be tough to make a film that works for American audiences AND for Indian audiences. And there is no way an American studio is going to make a film JUST for the Indian market, since the Bollywood studios already have that part of the business cornered. Oh, and in the case of RRR, Westerners/white people are the bad guys, while brown people are the good guys. Not likely that an American studio is going to go there, either.



H.M. in San Dimas, CA, asks: What are your three favorite Rob Reiner films?

(Z) answers: The Princess Bride, This Is Spinal Tap and A Few Good Men.

It is very difficult to leave The American President out of the top three, but I just can't put it ahead of any in this trio. And while I appreciate the merits of When Harry Met Sally..., Stand by Me and Misery, they are in genres that aren't really my cup of tea.



I.S. in Cap Ferret, France, asks: There are three long-running American animated comedy series: The Simpsons, South Park, and Family Guy. Which of these shows do you think will ultimately live the longest?

Family Guy is my favorite American TV program. It's called Les Griffin in French, and if there are any other French readers on your website, I recommend it. American conservatives like to push the idea that marriage and children are the keys to happiness, but this series mocks that ideology. The Griffins all hate each other and are their main sources of each other's misery. The creator of the series, Seth McFarlane, has never been married or had children. I think the program is his way of saying that it is a lie that marriage and families are necessary to live a happy life.

Here is the French intro:



Ce sont mes Griffin!!!

(Z) answers: I think The Simpsons will probably be around the longest. It has produced a vast industry in Simpsons-themed merchandise, such that the show itself can break even (or lose money), and it still makes financial sense to keep it going, to keep the merchandise machine lubricated.

The only problem is that the main voice cast are all north of 60. And Harry Shearer, who may be the most important of them all, is north of 80. These folks have already made tens of millions of dollars, and one or more of them could die, or could decide they're finished with the job. In that case, the show might have to end, because most or all of the voice actors are irreplaceable. That said, it's plausible that the actor, or their heirs, could make a deal to have their voice done by AI. In that case, The Simpsons might keep going for as long as Meet the Press or As the World Turns has.



K.C. in West Islip, NY , asks: While reading the Christmas Eve edition of my favorite political website, I got to wondering: What do you consider the best and worst series finales in TV history?

For me, best was House MD and worst was Seinfeld but I'm also a mere sapling at 44 years old so I missed an awful lot of classic TV series. And I never watched St. Elsewhere, but I do understand that it's widely regarded as one of the worst series finales of all time.

(Z) answers: The problem here is that there's been a lot of TV, and much of that TV is now pretty old. For example, I have seen the last episode of The Fugitive. And while I can appreciate it as a piece of storytelling, I cannot re-create the cultural milieu, namely that this was really the first true "finale" and it also brought a satisfying end to a series that people had followed for years. That episode aired nearly 60 years ago (1967), so anyone who COULD speak to those things would have to be at least 70 years old.

All of this is to say that I can only speak for shows I've seen, where I have at least some feel for the context. And with that caveat, here are my top five final episodes:

  1. The Wonder Years: It's a great coming-of-age show, and the events of the final episode make clear that Kevin Arnold has come of age, and entered into a new phase of his life. Meanwhile, the revelations in the last minute, provided by a voiceover from the adult Kevin, are just perfect. First loves usually don't work out, and while Kevin and Winnie stay friends, they don't end up together. That's keeping it real on a show that always kept it real.

  2. Saturday Night Live: This one is cheating a little bit. Obviously, SNL has not ended yet. However, the show has a well-established tradition of sending particularly beloved cast members off with a good-bye sketch that is touching (e.g., Bowen Yang) or funny (e.g., Will Ferrell) or both. The very best, in my view, was the good-bye for Kristen Wiig. Ostensibly staging a "graduation ceremony," Mick Jagger and the house band performed a medley of "She's a Rainbow" and "Ruby Tuesday" while every cast member (and producer Lorne Michaels) came out on stage and danced with Wiig for a few seconds. It was stellar. I can't find the clip on YouTube, but it can be viewed here.

  3. All in the Family: This one is also cheating a little. Eventually, All in the Family transitioned into Archie Bunker's Place, meaning that the former never had a proper finale. However, I regard the episode of Archie Bunker's Place where Edith dies (offscreen) to be the de facto finale for All in the Family. And the (crushing) scene where the sight of Edith's slipper makes Archie break down is a virtuoso performance from Carroll O'Connor.

  4. Cheers: The episode did a great job of resolving everyone's storylines, while also making clear that the day-to-day goings-on at the bar would keep going-on, even if we didn't get to watch anymore. Some people complained that Sam did not end up with anyone, but those people clearly didn't get the point. Sam did end up with his one true love—the bar. And the final bar-closing (at least, the final bar-closing that we get to see), and Sam adjusting the picture of Geronimo (a tip of the hat to Nicholas "Coach" Colasanto, who died during the show's third season) were very nice, very understated touches.

  5. M*A*S*H: This is still the highest-rated broadcast for a scripted program. And they knew, at the time, that would probably be the case. Not easy to live up to expectations like that (see Seinfeld, below) but they did it. In the span of 120 minutes or so, they ended the Korean War, told you how all the characters' wartime stories were resolved, and launched their peacetime stories. In particular, the last few minutes of the episode are very powerful. The final wind-down begins with the scene where B.J. and Hawkeye bid farewell to their regular-army commander, Col. Sherman Potter, with a proper (and very rare for them) military salute. And then, after B.J. has spent the entire episode refusing to say "good-bye," in the final seconds of the series, Hawkeye leaves in a helicopter, only to see that B.J. has spelled out "GOOD BYE" in rocks on the landing pad.

Note that I am well aware that the finale of Breaking Bad was much-loved, but time did not allow me the ability to watch that series, so I cannot comment on it.

Here are my bottom five:

  1. Roseanne: The whole last season was kind of a disaster, and then they pulled a Dallas in the last episode, and said none of it ever happened. That trick was cool the first time (with Dallas), but a little cheesy this time. And then, they vacated the "twist" at the end of the final episode (Dan died of a heart attack) when they rebooted the show in the 2020s.

  2. Quantum Leap: So, Sam never gets to go home, after all. And thus, the tension at the heart of the entire series was meaningless, and none of it was building to... anything. Great job, producers.

  3. Seinfeld: I understand entirely what they were going for, and why Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David (who returned to the show for this episode after having left a couple of seasons earlier) became enamored of the concept. However, it read like a clip show (not helping matters is that, in the lead-up to the episode, NBC aired an actual Seinfeld clip show). Further, in service of a not-terribly-funny twist at the end of the episode, they wrecked what might be the greatest episode in the show's history, The Contest.

  4. The Sopranos: Again, I understand what they were going for. However, people tune into a finale for a satisfying payoff, not to be confused. And cutting to black most certainly left people confused, and most certainly not satisfied.

  5. Star Trek: Enterprise: Most Star Trek fans not only regard this as the worst finale, but the worst episode of any Trek series. For those who are unfamiliar, the writers used a silly framing device to largely turn this into a callback to an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Not only did this represent retcon-crimes against an episode of TNG, it meant that viewers who wanted to say good-bye to the Enterprise cast spent much of the episode watching TNG characters William Riker and Deanna Troi.

Note that I am well aware that the finale of Game of Thrones was much-hated, but that is not my kind of show, and I did not watch it. So, I cannot comment on it.

Meanwhile, it's just a coincidence that Scott Bakula starred in two of the five episodes on this list. At least, we assume it is.



G.R. in Carol Stream, IL, asks: If Deep Space Nine's Odo can have any face he wants, how come he chose that one?

(Z) answers: The show makes pretty clear that he cannot have any face that he wants, and that this is the best he can do at approximating a human face. His face is much more human-looking in the episodes where he's an actual human (a punishment from the Founders) and in the episode where, due to time travel, he's had 200 years to practice doing better.



S.S. in West Hollywood, CA, asks: I sometimes feel a little left out on "fun question day." I am interested in TV and film, but much less so in music and absolutely no interest in sports. So I'm asking in the areas that most interest me: (1) Favorite Broadway musicals and plays? (Maybe 5 to 10 of each?), and (2) Stephen Sondheim or Andrew Lloyd Webber? Please explain why and what shows you consider their best. (And yes, you risk being lessened in my eyes if you choose wrong.)

(L) answers: Favorite Broadway musicals, in no particular order (I couldn't narrow it down to just 5):

5 favorite plays:

And Sondheim, hands down. Webber is exceptional when partnered with Tim Rice (Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat) but didn't have much to write home about when going it alone. Sondheim, on the other hand, was not only a great collaborator but excelled as both composer and lyricist. He created complex female characters as well—A Little Night Music, Company, Follies (if you've never seen Shirley MacLaine's version of "I'm Still Here" in Postcards from the Edge, watch it immediately) as well as the ones listed above.

(Z) answers: (L) and I are definitely the two "theater" people. Here's my list of musicals, also in no particular order:

And here are my five favorite plays, again in no particular order:

And, like (L), I prefer Stephen Sondheim over Andrew Lloyd Webber. The only play I've ever seen on Broadway was a Lloyd Webber show, Starlight Express, and I was underwhelmed. Even in his most famous and beloved shows, the songs don't really stick with me. With Sondheim, they do.



R.M. in Pensacola, FL, asks: The Kansas City Chiefs are the latest professional sports franchise to fleece the taxpayers of a particular state/county/city in order to get a new stadium paid for by the taxpayers. In your opinion, what will be the next sports franchise (NFL, MLB, NBA or NHL) to relocate to a new city in order to obtain a new stadium for themselves?

I'm not considering the Chiefs to be "relocating," as they are just moving across the Kansas City metro area. I'm talking actually moving, such as when the Rams moved from St. Louis to Los Angeles.

(Z) answers: So, the Chicago Bears are out, since even if they build their new stadium in Indiana, they will still identify themselves as the team from Chicago. Similarly, the A's are presumably out, since their move to Las Vegas has already been announced, and will probably be consummated, even if they are playing in Sacramento right now.

So, I will go with the Tampa Bay Rays. They were already trying to get out of their stadium, which is now unplayable due to hurricane damage. They draw very few fans. It would not be a surprise to see them move to some larger Southern city, or maybe to Portland or Salt Lake City.



D.G.H. in Barnegat, NJ, asks: If the Green Bay Packers win their two remaining games and the Chicago Bears lose their two remaining games the Packers will win the division. It looks unlikely that this will happen. Which injuries were the greatest contributing factor to the Packers being unable to win the division?

(Z) answers: There is no question that it is Micah Parsons' ACL tear. At the point he was injured, the Packers were 9-3-1, and were driven by their stout defense, and they only gave up more than 25 points one time. They then lost the game in which he was injured, and have lost the two since, giving up 34, 22 and 41 points.

Sadly for Packers fans, Parsons won't be back until next year. And without him, they aren't going anywhere, even if they did make the playoffs.

(Note to those who don't follow the NFL: Since we got this question, the Bears clinched the division, even though they lost their game this week. So, the Packers will be the #7 seed in the NFC playoffs, while the Bears will be #3. And the Bears aren't going anywhere, either, as they are way too inconsistent.)



A.S. in Black Mountain, NC, asks: Is it possible to statistically prove or disprove "momentum" in team sports?

(Z) answers: About 10 years ago, Tobias Moskowitz and L. Jon Wertheim published Scorecasting: The Hidden Influences Behind How Sports Are Played and Games Are Won. This was clearly inspired by the book Freakonomics, and so is quite aptly described as "Freakonomics for sports." Chapter 16 is titled "The Myth of the Hot Hand," and it reviews the (large amount of) research that shows that there is no such thing as momentum, at least not that can be distinguished, mathematically, from random chance.

There is one caveat to that. When a team, or more particularly a player, appears to "lose" momentum, there may be something real that explains their swoon. But it's not some amorphous commodity, it's that there might be an injury that has not been disclosed, or has not been handled properly.



B.H. in Southborough, MA, asks: I have an off-season baseball question. One of my favorite movies is Moneyball, which celebrated Bill James' sabermetrics and the A's miraculous 2002 season. Supposedly the Red Sox broke the curse of the Bambino in 2004 embracing this philosophy.

However, if the movie is to be believed, scouts would have gone the way of the dodo, there would be no more bunting or stealing, and players would be evaluated only by the numbers, especially on-base percentage (OBP). But has any of this actually happened?

(Z) answers: I read the book. The way it was presented in the movie, and the way it was often presented in the sports media, was misleading.

The book was much more about the business of baseball than it was about baseball itself. Basically, the point of Moneyball (both as book and as strategy) is that you have to figure out the "value" of various things that might happen during a baseball game, and then to use that insight to get as much mileage as you can out of the money you spend on salaries.

Bunting, for example, usually provides considerably less value than swinging away (or trying to draw a walk). There are exceptions, but in general, it is not wise to bunt, and it is not wise to make "he can bunt well" part of the reason that you play a player.

The book, and the strategy, allow much room for the possibility that the market might shift, and that skills that are being overvalued today might be undervalued in the future. For example, at the time the book was written, players who could steal bases were paid a premium, because steals are a high-profile, exciting, and seemingly game-changing event. However, what the numbers reveal is that a base stealer is only valuable if they are successful 70% of the time or more. Otherwise, they are giving away more runs than they are adding. So, Moneyball teams stopped paying high-volume base stealers, while they continued to pay high-efficiency base-stealers. It's more useful to your team to go 40-for-50 on steal attempts than it is to go 65-for-100.

A couple of years ago, MLB made the bases bigger, so as to reduce injuries resulting from two players trying to put their cleated feet in the same place at the same time. As a result, the bases are now about 6 inches closer. Since stolen bases tend to be bang-bang plays, that shifts things to the benefit of the runner. And so, steals are on the rise again, and base-stealing is more likely to give a player leverage in contract negotiations, since more of them are able to steal at a "valuable" rate of success.

Sabermetrics advocates were never anti-scouting. They invariably advocated for a holistic approach in which information derived from scouting and information derived from crunching the numbers are used to create as full a picture of value and potential as is possible. The notion that sabermetricians disdained scouts was a straw man created by people who were threatened by change (e.g., Joe Morgan, Buzz Bissinger, Murray Chass).

The ACTUAL ideas of Moneyball (not the cartoon version promoted by opponents) are now deeply ingrained in baseball. Every team has an analytics department that tries to figure out what is currently being overvalued/undervalued, in hopes of gaining even a slight advantage. That same department also tries to figure out what strategies might improve their team's chances. This is why, for example, teams now rarely let pitchers see hitters for a third time, and why they sometimes let a reliever pitch the first inning or two or three. At the same time, every team has a scouting staff, because they all understand there are things scouts can see, particularly when it comes to young prospects, that are not present in the numbers.



A.A. in Branchport, NY, asks: How about pulling back the curtain and giving your readers an idea of how an item progresses from a gleam in someone's eye to the final product arriving on, say, Tuesday morning?

(Z) answers: Both the Votemaster and I keep an eye on 30-40 news outlets throughout the day, and set aside anything that might be worth writing about. We look at many of the same outlets, but we also each have a few that the other does not look at. When it's time to start writing, we look at everything we've set aside that day (and perhaps during previous days), try to organize them in a logical order, and then we jump in. We don't necessarily write things in the order that they appear on the page; often, it works better to write smaller/less important items first, and then to do the bigger/more important items later.

It takes about an hour for every 1,000 words or so, so if the post is 5,000 words, it probably took about 5 hours to write. That can vary, of course, as some subjects are simpler and some are more tricky. For example, we can generally write up "Politician [X] is going to vacate office [Y], and here are the implications of that" pieces pretty quickly. On the other hand, anything about foreign policy, or court decisions, or complicated parliamentary maneuvering tends to be tougher.

There are some differences between our approaches. The Votemaster is more likely to write an in-depth piece based on a single article. I am more likely to write pieces that tie together several articles. There are also some subjects that are clearly too big to deal with on any one day, where I save many links (dozens, or sometimes hundreds) in hopes of organizing them into a series on the subject. I am planning to launch a series on cracks in the MAGA armor when we get back from our planned break; I have probably 90 or 100 stories I've already set aside.



B.J.L. in Ann Arbor, MI, asks: Curious about the project information flow at Electoral-Vote.com. With just (V) and (Z), a quick e-mail exchange and plans/communication about who is doing what seemed enough. With others now more involved, have you guys degraded to a slack channel? Does it work? Any suggestions on how to keep it vibrant and working well for one who seems to struggle on that platform?

(Z) answers: Because the Votemaster and I are in different countries, and WAY different time zones, there is rather less coordination than you might expect. Sometimes one of us will send a link to the other, either because it's the other person's day, or because the item fits much more comfortably within the other person's area of expertise. On Tuesdays, I provide a list of what I am writing about, so the Votemaster can work on the Wednesday posting without duplications. And sometimes, after the Votemaster has written something, I will hold it because I had plans related to that item, and I want to add to or adjust it.

(L) will usually e-mail us both with whatever subject she plans to write about each week, to make sure we think it works, and to make sure we don't write about that subject first. Usually, we avoid legal items, just in case. That said, some items are both legal and political, and it can be hard to decide which side of the line is correct. For example, if Donald Trump files a meritless lawsuit against ABC, one that does not raise any meaningful points of law, that's probably more a political story, and one that does not demand the expertise of someone who went to law school.

There is definitely no slack channel. So, we have no wisdom on that front, unfortunately.



B.M. in Chico, CA, asks: I have a question for you that, if I were asked myself, I'm not sure how I would answer. If President Trump discovered your website (putting aside the fact that he's not much of a reader) and decided to give you the Bill Maher treatment, would you accept an invitation to the White House for dinner? On the one hand, gross. But on the other hand, dining with the president in the White House is a rarity and you would have the opportunity to observe, question, and/or deride the man who overshadows so many of your daily writeups.

(V) answers: I would politely decline a White House invitation. I can see no good coming from a visit there now. Last week, I was invited to give a talk at a university in Iran. I also politely declined.

(Z) answers: This is easy. I have absolutely no interest in dining with Donald Trump or any of his minions, and I do not imagine I could possibly influence him in any useful way. In addition, I think this would raise serious ethical issues—can you really be sure about our analysis of him and his actions after he's effectively buttered us up?

Of the presidents who have served in my lifetime, the ones that I actually WOULD have wanted to meet are Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, Barack Obama and Joe Biden. I would be particularly interested in Ford, Carter and Obama. If a president like that were to extend an invite, it would be a much tougher call. But I would still say "no" because of the ethical considerations. Though I do believe the ethical considerations would be much less salient once the person was out of office.



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