TAKE THAT FOR DATA: DECODING IDENTITY, SPORT, AND TECHNOLOGY

Book project excerpt

In 2017, David Fizdale, head coach for the Memphis Grizzlies, sat down for a post-game press conference following a first-round playoff game against the San Antonio Spurs. Fizdale, in his first season as a head coach, noted his team’s effort 96-82 loss but spent the majority of the presser admonishing the officiating crew. He noted the number of times his players went to the free throw line versus their opponents, the most staggering statistic being Kawhi Leonard’s 19 free throws compared to the Grizzlies approaching the free throw line a mere 15 times for the entire game. “I’m not a numbers guy,” Fizdale says, “but that doesn’t seem to add up.” He then goes on to note that the “numbers” speak to a larger disrespect of his roster and his own status as a newer face in the association — this is something that he sees beyond the box score. “I know Pop’s got pedigree and I’m a young rookie, but they’re not going to rook us,” Fizdale declares, accentuating his raucous reading of the the referees with a final phrase, “Take that for data!” Fizdale runs down the numbers and then reads them through the political and cultural norms of the league — whiny players get more calls (whereas he describes Mike Conley as having “class”) and seasoned coaches get heard as they scream on the sidelines for calls. To understand the Grizzlies’ loss solely through how many times they got to the line would be to miss out on crucial aspects of the game itself.

The phrase rapidly circulated across the sports twittersphere, instantly meme’d and ripe for spreadability. Shea Serrano of The Ringer published an article titled “Twenty-five Completely Reasonable Uses of David Fizdale’s ’Take That for Data’”; the Memphis Grizzlies promptly printed shirts with the phrase available for purchase at their arena. Beyond its lifespan across social media, the phrase seemingly reflects a growing contention in sport between the so-called “eye test” — that is the cultural and embodied knowledge acquired through participating and experiencing sport — and the use of advanced technology in sport — analytics, artificial intelligence, wearables, and other mechanisms used to predict and enhance sports performance. This book is located at the intersection of these tensions, many which have intrigued me for some time. I am grateful to David Fizdale for providing the backdrop to this project and an apt title to boot.

Over the last decade, technological advances continue to shape the sporting landscape. Far beyond the bounds of Billy Beane’s “moneyball” approach, discourses surrounding advanced analytics continue to dominate headlines, whether rebuked by former athletes turned halftime analysts, or the source of concern following a MLB team’s data breach by an opposing team’s employee. Big data in sport is driven by the following questions — who owns it, who can access it, and how it can be used. It has opened up an entire market for sports fanatics to consume sport, as well as technology developed by companies to further quantify athletic achievement.

We speak of smart homes, cities, and cars but in sport there is a growing emphasis on the smart body, team, and arena. Teams are formed in part by algorithm and sensors living beneath areas floors, feeling inevitable given the technological takeover which permeates our lives. Dystopian data rumblings aside, there is a lot of money to be made in this new age of analytics. There are the gamblers, camped out at the Vegas books with their spreadsheets. But they aren’t just found in smoky spots on the Strip; new media technology allows sports gambling to thrive globally, especially following the 2018 Supreme Court ruling that ended PASPA, the law that previously prevented sport gambling, opening up a new landscape far beyond skirting of the law through daily fantasy sports (DFS), most visible in the rabid advertising campaigns of FanDuel and DraftKings which dominated the airwaves in the 2010s. It is worth taking stock of the role of this technology and our perceptions of those who create and wear it. Where does all of this sensitive biometric data go? What might it tell us about the valuation of sporting bodies, roster assemblages, and the technocultural turn in sport today?