Boot Camp

29 December 2022

An original NASL ball soccer ball, autographed by Pelé.

Pelé ball.

Last night, I talked about memorable dates. And yesterday just happened to be tied to two losses which are meaningful to me. Well tonight, we can add another morbid anniversary date to the ol’ memory bank; Edson Arantes do Nascimento died today. 

Recency bias has led many people to argue that Lionel Messi is the greatest footballer of all time. I think he’s definitely the greatest male player playing today. But the best all time? In my book, that’s Pelé. Without a doubt. I’m not going to spend a lot of time sharing stats. I’m not even going to ask ChatGPT to make the case for me. I just want to talk about his influence on the game.

To put it simply, he fundamentally changed the way soccer is played. His balance of finesse and strength, to be able to fight through an entire defense who were hacking away at his ankles, just to sublimely and perfectly place a ball in an exacting spot in the back of the net, that is what players dream about to this day. 

I was lucky enough to see him play once against my beloved Tampa Bay Rowdies. I don’t recall any specifics about the match itself. I only know that my under-10 team went as a group. And scouring Wikipedia let me know that the match must have been 29 May 1977. The Rowdies have always been my favorite team, and I remember getting excited about being able to see Rodney Marsh, Steve Wegerle, the tassel-socked Wes McLeod, and my idol Mike Connell face off with the likes of Giorgio Chinaglia, Franz Beckenbauer, and, of course, Pelé. 

To paraphrase “Men in Blazers’” Roger Bennett, there was music before The Beatles, and then everything that followed. Pelé was the same. Soccer existed before Pelé became the youngest-ever scorer in a World Cup, but nothing since then has ever been the same. He not only coined the phrase, but he almost single handedly defined o jogo bonito, The Beautiful Game. I cannot overstate how steadfastly I believe that Pelé is the greatest who’s ever been. And probably ever will be. A true global ambassador for the game I love. I will miss his passion. I’ll miss his advocacy. I’ll even miss his Tweets.

“Love, love, and love.”

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

Outshined

19 December 2022

A 1968 replica NASL soccer ball sits on a grassy field between a pair of feet wearing soccer cleats.

The beautiful game.

What a Final. And what a tournament. I want to relive it a little bit tonight, pointing out a few moments which stuck out to me and describing some of what I was feeling, based on the notes I jotted down for myself between numerous bouts of either holding my breath or screaming at the top of my lungs. 

But before we get started, a few notes. First, one of the many reasons I did not travel to what would have been my seventh World Cup trip was because of the rampant corruption involved in the awarding of the 2022 event to Qatar. There are many great articles about what went into Qatar’s winning bid, but I’d rather recommend a book by Ken Bensinger called Red Card: How the U.S. Blew the Whistle on the World's Biggest Sports Scandal

One of the other reasons this year’s trip didn’t happen was due to the callous disregard both FIFA and the officials in Qatar showed to the workers who created the infrastructure needed to host this spectacle in the middle of a desert. It’s unspeakable that, for those of us who love this game, there is no way around the fact that in order to enjoy these matches we have to perform a large exercise of compartmentalization. When we watch, we also need to acknowledge the costs that these games have come with. We cannot justify these deaths. We cannot ignore them. And we should not stop talking about what happened just because we’ve already heard the final whistle. 

Lastly, there is the site itself. Now, there have been valid criticisms about each and every host country that I’ve visited since witnessing my first match in 1994, but this year feels different. The fact that there are numerous laws on their books which they essentially suspended for the duration, but will go back to enforcing immediately afterwards, means the global lens FIFA likes to celebrate when touting how the tournament can foster global change is laughable. Unmarried couples living together is against the law. So is crossdressing. And consensual sex with a same-sex partner. Even spending one tourist dollar in passive support of those laws was a non-starter for me.

Now, with that documented, let’s get to the game (I’m replaying a recording of it right now as I type this!). Even though my Italians weren’t in it this year, I cheered and fretted and worried as if it were 1994 all over again. But this time, it was for Lionel Messi. I’m old enough to have seen Pelé play in the NASL against my beloved Rowdies. I’ve also been lucky enough to have seen Messi play in a few World Cup matches. So I really wanted to see him add this trophy to his long list of accomplishments. 

I had quiet confidence most of the tournament. Even after the first match loss to Saudi Arabia, believe it or not. This year's team seemed much more together. United. And more broadly talented than squads which tended to feature 11 stars only briefly playing on the same pitch together. The group Lionel Scaloni put together each had pieces to contribute to the puzzle as a whole, without relying on Messi to be the biggest, most important piece. This win wouldn’t have happened without the continued contributions from his teammates. It’s the first squad in a while where he wasn’t asked to carry most of them on his back.

Whether it was the way Rodrigo de Paul continually fought through tackles, Alexis Mac Allister threading through the French midfield, or how Ángel Di María kept attacking up the left side of the field to create chance after chance in the box, we saw that this was a team playing to their strengths over and over again. And let’s not leave a pair of Martínez-es out of the discussion. Lautaro Martínez’s late substitution brought a much-needed spark to an increasingly winded squad. As for the keeper, Emiliano Martínez, it’s pretty obvious that despite not seeing a shot from France until the 70th minute, his saves in the last seconds of the second period of extra time, and the huge penalty-kick save on Kingsley Coman during the shoot out are what cemented the Argentine win.

Lionel Messi is the story, though. As he should be. I had some fun the other night letting ChatGPT help me make an argument about how good he is. But even if we look at just his stats from the 2022 tournament, he was remarkable. He played all 690 minutes of Argentina’s games, surpassing Italy’s Paolo Maldini (my absolute favorite player) for most played. He scored 7 goals in 7 games — 2 of those in the Final — one short of the 8 from Golden Boot winner Kylian Mbappé. Oh, he also had 3 assists. It was an absolutely remarkable tournament for the 35-year-old, definitely deserving of the Golden Ball award for the best player of the tournament.

As I look back now, almost two full days later, there’s so much I will miss of this tournament, like the tenacity of the Moroccan defense and the whistles from their fans. I’ll miss the tight passing and ball control from the Japanese team. The sounds of the horns and spirit of hope from the Senegalese. The chants and never-ending effort from the South Koreans. But mostly, I’ll miss the daily reminders that this game rewards not just talent, but teamwork.  Thankfully, another World Cup starts in just seven months when the women kick off in Auckland, New Zealand.

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

Full On (Reprise)

17 December 2022

DALL•E-generated digital art depicting 7 representations of soccer players wearing various jerseys, surrounding a large golden trophy cup.

DALL•E-generated art from the prompt, “The FIFA World Cup trophy being held aloft by Lionel Messi, who is wearing his home Argentina jersey, and a gold crown inscribed with ‘G.O.A.T’ surrounded by past soccer greats who are wearing their own countries’ jerseys.”

I don’t usually post these on weekends, but, as you may know, tomorrow is the World Cup Final, and I can’t stop thinking about it. As I mentioned yesterday, I look forward to it more than most any other day of the year. Probably because, like Leap Day, it only comes around every four years. 

But tonight, I want to revisit a point I made last night, specifically that Lionel  Messi is a better footballer than Cristiano Ronaldo. Since it’s the weekend, however, I didn’t want to do any actual research to back up my claims the evening before Messi’s legacy could actually be cemented in Qatar. Instead, I left it up to artificial intelligence, namely ChatGPT

So without further ado, here’s how the AI tool responded to my prompt, “Explain why Lionel Messi is a better footballer than Cristiano Ronaldo in 300 words, using as many stats and facts as possible, please.”:

It’s difficult to definitively say that one player is better than another, as people have different opinions on what constitutes good or great performance in football. Both Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo are considered among the greatest footballers of all time, and both have had impressive careers and achieved numerous accolades.

That said, here are some stats and facts that may help illustrate why some people believe Messi to be the better footballer:

• Messi has won the Ballon d’Or (awarded to the best male footballer in the world) a record six times, while Ronaldo has won it five times.
• Messi has won the UEFA Best Player in Europe award three times, while Ronaldo has won it twice.
• Messi has scored more goals and provided more assists in both domestic league play and international club competitions than Ronaldo. For example, in La Liga (Spain’s top division), Messi has scored 467 goals in 543 appearances, while Ronaldo has scored 311 goals in 292 appearances. In the UEFA Champions League (Europe’s top club competition), Messi has scored 115 goals in 142 appearances, while Ronaldo has scored 136 goals in 170 appearances.
• Messi has a higher goal-to-game ratio than Ronaldo in both domestic league play and international club competitions. This means that he has scored more goals per game on average than Ronaldo.
• Messi has won more domestic league titles than Ronaldo. In La Liga, Messi has won 10 titles with Barcelona, while Ronaldo has won 2 with Real Madrid.
• Messi has won more club-level international titles than Ronaldo. He has won the UEFA Champions League four times with Barcelona, while Ronaldo has won it three times, twice with Manchester United and once with Real Madrid.
• Messi has won more individual awards and accolades than Ronaldo. In addition to the Ballon d’Or and the UEFA Best Player in Europe award, he has won numerous other awards such as the Golden Foot, the Golden Shoe (awarded to the top scorer in European league play), and the FIFA World Cup Golden Ball (awarded to the best player at the FIFA World Cup).

Again, it’s important to note that these stats and facts are just some of the many that can be used to compare the two players, and they don’t necessarily prove that Messi is definitively a better footballer than Ronaldo. Ultimately, opinions on this matter will vary.

What a time to be alive.

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

Get on the Snake

16 December 2022

A Xmas tree, lit and decorated, surrounded by presents including a small, red bike with matching red bow, sits near a window in a small apartment.

Present tense.

When I was a kid — hell, who am I kidding? this is still true today — I loved Xmas Eve, The prepping. The expectation. The anticipation. It was enough to keep me up well past midnight, and get up well before dawn. It’s a feeling like no other. But every four years, there’s one thing that surpasses it: the wait for a World Cup Final. 

Even as I type those words, I can’t believe we’re here again. For a number of reasons. We’ll stipulate that having a Final so close to Santa’s big night is making me more than a bit unsettled. But the fact that 32 teams have weathered this year’s unique spectacle to compete for the solid gold Gazzaniga design has me vibrating like a fusion energy reactor.

As I draft this, it’s the evening before the third-place match between Morocco and Croatia. Despite being a consolation game, I’m going to be riveted to the screen early tomorrow. The Atlas Lions have exemplified what it means to be a team, and I’ve found I can’t watch them enough. Every player on the pitch contributed to every result. They were focused on sticking to their defensive gameplan. And they took their opportunities as they came. It’s been fascinating to watch such a defensive-minded squad completely fluster perennial world powers. They deserve every accolade and as much attention as this year’s England or German or, hell, even Brazil got. Morocco’s run has been inspired, eye-opening, and (I hope) revolutionary for The Beautiful Game. 

Croatia will bring their tried-and-true, hard-nosed, midfield-driven style to this match, putting a more dogged and experienced side up against the feel-good story of the tournament. While I appreciate their play (and the legacy of Luka Modrić), it’s hard for me to want them to succeed. It’s not a style I usually enjoy, and I’m already smitten with Morocco. But I have to give them credit. To get into the last four, both this year and in 2018 where they played for The Cup, is a laudable achievement for a country of just over 4 million. 

And then there is Sunday. I’m not going to spend any time trying to share my thoughts about each team, pretending to be impartial. I can’t do it. With this much Italian heritage in me, there’s no way I can root for France. Never mind the fact that I’m dying to see Messi win his first Cup; one, because he deserves it, and two, because I hope it will forever put to rest the debate about who’s the better footballer, him or a certain Português. 

Between now and the final whistle on Sunday, everyone is going to have an opinion. And a hope. And that inexplicable urge for something they’ve waited so long for to finally happen, while simultaneously wishing the end never comes so that the possibilities never end. But I know we can’t have it both ways. The match will kick off, goals will be scored, and one team will be named campione del mondo. And I’ll spend every waking hour between now and then with a smile on my face, thinking about how much I love this game.

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

Superunknown

12 December 2022

4-quadrant slide titled Johari Window: top left- known to self, know to others: Open; top right- not known to self, known to others: Blind; bottom left- not known to others, known to self: Hidden; not known to self, not known to others: Unknown.

Window addressing.

By this time tomorrow, we’ll know one of the two teams competing in the World Cup Final. For now, it’s all speculation. And conjecture. And bias after favoritism shrouded as expertise about what is going to happen. But we don’t really know anything, do we? I mean, if we really think about it, we can’t even guarantee the semifinal games will even be played. We expect them. We plan for them. But we just cannot predict the future. And that is terrifying to me.

One of the recurring topics which comes up in therapy for me is this lack of control over the future. There are things we can control, things we can try to control, and then there are things we didn’t even think about trying to control. And probably couldn’t if we tried. This year’s World Cup matches have been a great example of preparing for the expected and getting continually surprised by the outcomes. Morocco in the Final? After seeing how they defended against both Spain and Portugal, it’s definitely not impossible. And if you told me that over the summer, I definitely would have questioned your mental stability. Yet, here we are. But let’s look at a few other examples of where this constant uncertainty causes me anxiety, shall we?

Earthquakes. Now, I grew up in Florida, and the most common natural disaster we see there is hurricanes. And we get to see those coming from miles away. Literally. So, we stock up on supplies, make sure there’s gas in the car, and move all the lawn furniture off the pool deck to settle in for a few days without power. With earthquakes, though, your survival kit needs to be at the ready all the time because there’s no telling when one will hit. You can control the prep, but you can’t control the prediction. And that makes me feel helpless.

These two examples are big, and could change the lives of thousands — maybe millions — of people. But unpredictability can happen at a moment’s notice, and just to you. Let’s say you’re biking to work tomorrow morning. You have on all your safety gear: helmet, flashing lights, reflective neon vest. You’re obeying every law, taking the safest route, and watching out for any hazards. But there’s still the off chance that a distracted driver could unknowingly drift into the bike lane and change your life forever. When I think about this, it’s terrifying. But I can’t live my life that way, can I? None of us can. We’d never leave the house. Or shower. Or eat anything which we may choke on. We can’t eliminate all risk, but we can minimize and prepare for a lot of it. And I’m trying to get comfortable with that.

Basically, this is a handful of paragraphs which could have been more succinctly put like this: Nobody knows anything. Instead of dreading that, thought I’m trying to embrace it. We’re having some uncertainty at work right now, too, and I think that may be amplifying my already heightened anxiety. But I’m trying to get more comfortable with the discomfort, telling myself I’ve never learned anything new from my comfort zone. I don’t think I’m doing a good job of convincing myself of that that, though. I’ll keep trying. 

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

An Unkind

09 December 2022

A bookshelf full of books about soccer.

Shelf life.

I was so looking forward to writing tonight's post after viewing two unbelievable World Cup quarterfinal matches today. I wanted to talk about Brazil going home. The tenacity of the Croatians. My hatred of penalty kicks. And then I’d probably struggle to not spew a book-length number of words about the monumental match between The Netherlands and Argentina. But that all changed when I headed out with the dog for our last walk of the evening. I grabbed my coat, and the leash, cued up my evening podcasts in my headphones and headed out the door. Not halfway down the block, I was stopped in my tracks by the hourly NPR News podcast update reporting that Grant Wahl has died

At the moment, I think the only thing that’s clear to me is how stunned I am. For U.S. soccer fans, I think that feeling is pretty prevalent. Wahl was one of us, an advocate for a game we loved that struggled for years to gain a secure foothold in the imaginations of most of our otherwise sports-obsessed population. He reported with passion and curiosity in equal amounts. And he did it on his own terms, even after getting canned by Sports Illustrated in 2020. 

Since venturing out on his own, he still brought the same integrity and reporting to us, despite having to provide all the support infrastructure for it himself. I only met him once, after a disastrous EURO 2012 Final in Kyiv. I was still licking my wounds after seeing Spain completely dismantle my Italians, 4 – 0, but he was eager to talk to another American who had made his way to Ukraine to feed his passion for The Beautiful Game. What I remember most about our conversation was how quickly he put me at ease, not having to prove his stature or his credentials; just two guys talking about witnessing the game they loved in an unfamiliar land. Again. And how often we had both done that. 

Now, this isn’t the time or place to talk about the merits of parasocial relationships, but when you’ve been following someone for years, through podcasts, newsletters, and a publicly shared soccer calendar, you develop a familiarness that is unlike most other relationships you have with people you only know online. These mediums, and the number of ways we can connect, leads to a closeness and intimacy that’s hard to describe. You are part of a community of two, but it’s unidirectional. When that relationship ends, though, the pain is real. Even if it feels a little … I’m struggling for the right word … silly? It’s a loss, for sure. But not one which you’ll feel as acutely as his family, friends, and colleagues. But you mourn nonetheless.

With all that is wrong about this World Cup, Grant Wahl was everything that was right. He balanced his love and knowledge of the beautiful game with the critical, unflinching eye that’s so needed in today’s game in an attempt to hold officials accountable. During what has been — in my opinion — one of the most fascinating tournaments ever held, I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that he won’t see how it will end. The coverage, and our understanding of it, will be much lesser for it. 

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

A Thousand Days Before 

08 December 2022

A collection of Bill McBride for Florida Governor 2002 stickers and paraphernalia.

Ride with McBride.

This is probably going to be a short post tonight, mainly because I’m in anticipation mode. The World Cup quarterfinals quick off in the morning, and the waiting around has me reminiscing about a past life where I worked so hard, of so long, to then just wait for the results: the 2002 Florida gubernatorial election.

I joined the McBride campaign in August of that year, a couple of months before the primary. The favorite was former U.S. Attorney General, Janet Reno. She had a professional staff. She had money. And, obviously, name recognition. We were doomed. But we worked every angle we had, relying on our candidate’s local charms, to win votes one by one. And in those two months, we cobbled together enough support to come out ahead. After a recount, of course.

But for all that work — spending every waking second talking to reporters, setting up rallies, rearranging travel plans at the last second — on Election Day, there was basically nothing to do but wait. And wait. And wait. Thankfully, I had taken on the task of setting up our election night party, so there were details to finalize and speeches to revise. But mostly, we waited. And watched the election totals trickle in. And wait. 

I’m anxiously excited for the next matches to kick off. But at the same time, I don’t want this tournament to end. The unpredictability has been remarkable. And the joy in the underdogs’ faces with each positive result is powering me through the oddity of having to watch this problematic Cup in the winter. So, I wait. And hope it never ends.

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

Ugly Truth

07 December 2022

A digital display inside Twitter HQ promoting Content Strategy Office Hours features a kitten drowsily laying on a keyboard with the following message: What if this headline was better? You’d probably want some smart copy here, too. We can help!

Writing about writing.

Tonight’s post is going to be a little bit meta (please note the lowercase “m”). I want to talk about the process of writing these, the pros and cons of my approach, and the aspirations I have for at least one of these. First, some logistics. 

Normally around here, everyone is in bed by 10 p.m. Except me. That’s when I crack my knuckles and get to work on these. That usually means I need to already have an idea in mind about what I want to write about, and just buckle down to get the thoughts out of my head and onto this page. I may have mentioned it before, but to reiterate, I want to have everything up and posted before midnight. That gives me about two hours to get close to 500 coherent words together, add links where needed, choose a title from my predetermined list (have you figured out where I’m pulling these titles from yet?), and scroll through my old photos to select one which is mildly related to the evening’s topic. 

So far, I’ve posted one of these almost every weekday evening since the beginning of November, my own version of NaNoWriMo. And after working on more than two dozen posts, one conclusion I’ve come to is that it’s so much easier to write about opinions than to write about facts. And maybe that’s why we’re so inundated with a morass of ideas which we have to navigate through to get to the truth. Let’s go back to the World Cup as an example. 

If I want to put up 500 words about how much I despise the play, technique, and mindset of a certain high-scoring Portuguese captain, I could do that pretty effortlessly, without having to cite one stat or example, just a stream of consciousness about how watching him makes me feel. And, since that‘s my lived experience, there’s not really much debate about it. But if I wanted to present a well-informed case about why I think a more petite, 35-year-old forward from South America is a better all-around soccer player than a certain recently terminated Manchester United forward, I’d need to back it up with examples and statistics and a thorough evaluation about why one brings value to a team and the other only values himself. And that takes work. Just sharing an opinion is far from work. 

When we start to evaluate information, it takes critical thinking. And research. And the humility of knowing what you don’t know as well as the confidence to get a little uncomfortable in order to potentially learn something new. Another in the long list of reasons why I loved Twitter was the ability to learn something new every day. Or even every hour, if I was willing to spend that much time and effort to seek new information. Under the new leadership, however, the burden to verify what you’re reading is far too much. You used to be able to trust that most of the news you were seeing, especially on the Explore tab, was presented with enough context for it to quickly make sense. Now that the entire Curation team is gone, though, one has to be more than skeptical about every trend and hashtag listed, especially on the Trending section. 

While I stand by the thoughts I’ve been able to collect in these posts, I know that there’s not a lot to them. Right now, I think that’s fine. If you’re reading them, I hope you’re appropriately skeptical of what I’ve put here. Eventually, though, I want to be able to spend the time and effort to put something together which teaches you — and probably me — something new. I know that the process of putting these words together is a clarifying process for me, so from just that aspect, these are valuable. I hope they're a little valuable to you, too. Even if they’re not Tweets.

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

Hand of God

02 December 2022

A set of tickets to six 2014 World Cup matches laying on a table top.

The paper chase.

I want to revisit an idea that I mentioned a few days ago. When I talked about the World Cup, and the FIFA World rankings, I got a bit hot under the collar about how sure certain commentators are about their predictions. A lot of this confidence comes from the arrogance of ignorance. But another good portion comes from a lack of imagination about how well a team can come together when they share a vision and purpose. 

Now, I don’t think this tonight’s post will be as long, or as much of a tirade as that other one, but who knows? What I do know is that there is a prevailing wisdom that there are things that should happen “on paper,” but when results turn out differently, these talking heads are stunned. So, let’s break that down a little bit. For analysts to compare teams, they usually do it one-to-one; which goalkeeper is better, who has the more prolific forwards, which defender is the fastest. They may even go so far as to compare individual matchups, trying to predict how a forward may fare against a specific defender, for example. All of those comparisons can be done on paper. But that’s exactly the reason why they’re shit. Nobody plays the game on paper.

When these players take the field, they do it as a team. And if their coaches and training have been effective, they become a greater entity working as one whole than they do as individual 11. That cohesion isn’t going to show up on any stats sheet. Just look at this year’s squad from Japan as a prime example of this. They have, twice, come from behind to win games very few analysts gave them a shot in. But they believed in themselves. Believed in their system. In their coaching. And they never quit. It’s been remarkable to watch. And the same argument can be made for Morocco or Australia or Senegal. These “underdog” teams are playing better than expected because the expectations are on paper, and they all came to win on the pitch. 

As the knock-out round gets ready to kick off, and the favorites start to dominate, it’s not going to be because they’re better on paper. It’s going to come down to training and coaching and conditioning. More likely than not, Brazil will get a long way through toward the Final. But if this tournament has proven anything, it’s that no one knows anything. And the five-time winners could be derailed by something utterly unpredictable, like a fluky own-goal, deteriorating field conditions, or a team-wide outbreak of COVID. We don’t know what’s going to happen in the hours and days to come. That’s true in football and in life. But I’d love it if we could contain a little more of life’s unpredictability to soccer instead of our survival.

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

No Wrong, No Right

29 November 2022

Twitter error page reading, “Something is technically wrong.”

Writing wrongs.

Fair warning: I have no idea how long this post is going to be tonight. I have a very ranty idea in my head, and a self-imposed deadline to get this out before midnight, so depending on how quickly the thoughts come, and how much or how little editing I do on these paragraphs, the length and conclusion of this post is, at this point, totally unknown. And, coincidentally, that unpredictability pairs very well with what I want to think out loud about this evening. Strap in, and let’s go for a ride.

See, as you probably know, I’ve been watching the World Cup. I always watch, even in this problematic year. I can’t help it. It is my favorite sporting event. By far. It’s why I have traveled to six of them. The reason I bring it up is because I want to tie it to another one of my passions: politics. And this year, more than most, recent results have shown that we put too much faith in “experts” when really they’re just pundits. And I’ve been wondering why.

Let’s start with The Beautiful Game. This tournament, more than most, has been rife with upsets. And not just little surprises. These are big, foundation-shaking stunners. I mentioned in a previous post about Argentina’s loss to Saudi Arabia. That’s still probably the most monumental one. Since then, however, we’ve seen favorites like Germany, Belgium, and South Korea fall to “underdogs.” I mean Japan surprised Germany, and then gets a proper shock themselves from Costa Rica. This tournament has been bananas.

Next, let’s look at the recent mid-term elections. There are a number of reasons why we’re still trying to figure out how, and who, got so many predictions wrong, but one of the underreported aspects of all the horse-race election coverage is accountability. See, when talking heads tell you what they think is going to happen, and then the exact opposite thing occurs, do we hear from them less? No. And why not? Because they’re not measured by how many predictions they get right. They’re rewarded for how many eyeballs watched them make the call in the first place. We’ve incentivized the attention instead of the accuracy. And that can be said for a lot of the news industry these days. 

But if we go deeper and ask why these predictions are so wrong so often, we uncover another flaw in the way our news is presented to us: familiarity. The same people go to the same parties and hear the same stories from the same faces. These get repeated over and over enough to become conventional wisdom. And then we get spoonful after spoonful of it fed to us each election cycle, again and again. 

To combat this, though, some outlets partake in mid-western diner tourism, thinking if they find enough anecdotal, contrarian opinions, they’ve presented “both sides” of an argument. What we really need, though, are facts. And we’re just not that good at finding and presenting those in a way where people will actually pay attention. Instead, we get “roundtables.” And “expert opinions.” And polling (for a great look at polls, take a listen to this episode of “Planet Money”). But all of this is just the same handfuls of people talking about what’s familiar to them, with those also familiar to them, rather than really getting out and discovering what they actually know and what they don’t. Then, we wake up the day after election day to “surprises” and “upsets” and “stunners.” While all these uncertain outcomes make these great spectacles, we need to ask ourselves — whether they’re World Cup Matches or election results — why we’re aghast at these outcomes.  

If we consider these legitimate upsets, we first have to put faith in the systems we rely on for our conventional wisdom in the first place. And, as we’ve seen over and over vividly illustrated in these last few years, our existing systems have — to put it mildly — some blindspots. 

Now, I want to be careful here and not go down the “do your own research” rabbit hole. That’s definitely not what I’m saying. What I’m trying to point out is that there is a place for experts, and there is a place for opinions. But we need to do a better job at separating, scrutinizing, and evaluating them. Let’s go back to The Cup for a moment. When these pre-game talking heads tell you that a team is ranked #1 in the world, do you know what that’s based on? I sure didn’t. And I watch this stuff like my life depends on it. So, what goes into a FIFA World ranking? Well, I “did my own research” and here’s a part of the explanation, according to FIFA themselves: 

The points which are added or subtracted are partially determined by the relative strength of the two opponents, including the logical expectation that teams higher in the ranking should fare better against teams lower in the ranking.

The “logical expectation”‽ Whose, the kleptocrats in FIFA; give me a break! As detailed in FIFA’s own documentation, one portion of the points formula is the “expected result of the match” and that expectation is based on the “difference in ratings of the two playing teams”. Let’s break that down for a second: The formula for the ranking includes a variable for the expected winner which is based on … wait for it … the rankings of the two teams playing against each other. That’s like asking the inventor of the pencil what the best writing implement is. It’s turtles all the way down.

To digress a bit, (I know, this entire post feels like a series of digressions, but please hang with me for a bit more) one of the ways people talk about Twitter is to position it as a global town square. I’ve always had trouble with that for a number of reasons, but let’s assume for a moment that it is. Or was (we don’t have time for a digression within a digression). In this global town square, you’re not going to listen to everyone talking all at once. Even if you wanted to, you can’t. So you pick and choose the conversations you want to be part of. You self-select. You start your own. And then, all of a sudden, you’ve gone from being able to be part of any and every conversation on the globe to a select few where you either feel comfortable or confident. Which probably just reaffirms what you already believe. Think about it, how many times was your mind changed based on something you saw in a Tweet? I bet it’s very few. But you definitely Liked and Retweeted the opinions you agreed with, right? Or added an endorsement to those who put your thoughts more eloquently than you ever could. I know I’ve done that. Many times. So maybe because I did it, I assume you did it, too? See, confirmation bias!

We create these bubbles for ourselves, convinced that we know best. But the confirmation bias is moving us to a place where we are placing so much faith in names that we know that we fail to recognize when we actually have no idea about something. Mainly because we want so desperately to believe it ourselves. But that conviction doesn’t make it true, does it? I don’t really have any great solution for this. I wish I did. I guess I just offer some advice: Be as curious as you are skeptical. Including about all you’ve just read here. Almost everything I think I know I learned from a source I trusted. But I’m old enough to understand that what I learned a few years ago may be outdated. Or too myopic. Or just plain misremembered. Experts have their place. As do lived experiences. And if you put enough of those together, you get just enough information to be comfortable. But I’ve never learned anything new from my comfort zone. Here’s to getting a little more uncomfortable.

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

Nothing to Say

28 November 2022

Screen shot of an error message on Twitter saying, “Tweet not sent. We’re sorry, we weren’t able to send your Tweet. Would you like to retry or save this Tweet in drafts?”

Un-sented

Over the Thanksgiving break, I wanted to try an experiment. While I know I was refraining from Tweeting, that didn’t mean that I couldn’t pretend I was Tweeting. So, on Thursday — between meal prep and World Cup matches — any time I felt like sending a Tweet, I started typing as if I were actually sending, but added it to an ongoing note on my phone instead of sending it. This is what my day looked like, as seen through Tweets not sent:


9:22 a.m. 
Christiano Ronaldo goes down more easily than DogeCoin. I dislike both. 
#WorldCup 
#POR
#GHA 


9:30 a.m. 
Yes! 
#WorldCup 
#POR
#GHA 


9:37 a.m. 
Well, poop.
#WorldCup 
#POR
#GHA 


9:46 a.m. 
Hope!
#WorldCup 
#POR
#GHA 


9:58 a.m. 
That could have been an epic finish! Quite a match. 
#WorldCup 
#POR
#GHA 


10:00 a.m. 
There’s something very disconcerting about spending the time between #WorldCup matches putting together the ingredients for stuffing. 
[ GIF of Open wide for some soccer ]


12:32 p.m.
Well, I hate it, but that was a gorgeous strike from Richarlison. 
#WorldCup 
#BRA 
#SRB 


4:24 p.m. 
This is our best in show. 
[ picture of Baker trying to eat off our Thanksgiving plates ]


11:28 p.m. 
We’ve reached that point in the evening of Thick Thursday where I’m regretting my decisions around pie. Mainly that I only had two pieces. 
[ GIF of Homer Simpson thinking about pie ] 


See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

Entering

22 November 2022

Confetti floats above the heads of Tweeps during the January 2020 #OneTeam conference in Houston, TX.

Party of #OneTeam.

I spent most of the day watching the World Cup (Argentina, wha’ happened‽), and it I was reminded of a couple of ideas that I’ve touched on in the last few days. First, witnessing these matches with a community is so much better than watching alone. Second, a great deal of work goes into creating and maintaining a community. Tonight, I want to look at both of those ideas a little bit, and revisit some of the analogies and thinking we used to use while creating experiences for new users of Twitter.

One of the recurring ways we talked about Twitter was by comparing it to a party. This worked on many levels, and failed on a few, but for now, let’s stick with it, shall we? As a guest, the first item you need for a party is an invitation. You can’t go to a party you don’t know about, right? So, we needed to make sure we built in a way for people who had encountered Twitter in the wild to know that they were welcome to come visit. And they didn’t even need to bring anything. When Tweets were embedded in news articles, for example, we built a system so that if you didn’t have an account, you could still select the Tweet and navigate to a page with it, and the most relevant replies about it, as well as a quick way to create your own account so you could add a reply of your own.

There were a number of other ways for people to come across Tweets, and for people without accounts, they all needed to act like invitations, no matter where these invites were discovered. Not many people want to go to some random party, though, so we also needed to let people know that they’d both be welcome and have people there who they’d want to be with, talking about topics they’re interested in. This was always one of our hardest jobs, and, admittedly, we didn’t always get it right. Whether it was using people’s location or address book contacts or explicitly asking for the topics and interests most important to them, creating a warm welcome in those first few minutes after walking through our theoretical threshold were make-or-break for whether people wanted to stay at our soirée. 

No matter how we tried to do it though, one idea was clear: If we didn’t present people with interesting Tweets, either about topics they wanted to read about or from accounts they were interested in, people would question why they were there and not stay very long. Those first few moments, the moment that figurative front door opened and our guest scanned the room to see who was welcoming and where they could find a perch, was the pivotal moment for Twitter to show its value. But because Twitter is such a uniquely individualized experience for everyone, there wasn’t really a great way to throw the same party for everyone on the globe. Which is how and why the party analogy starts to break down.

See, in those early hours and days, Twitter is work. Seriously. Think back to how much time you put in to finding and following the accounts you have in your Timeline. Those didn’t just appear all at once. Sure, we built some tools and systems to recommend handfuls of hopefully relevant accounts to you, but you still had to search and scroll and open profiles and vet each and every follow decision, sometimes waiting a few days to see what kind, and how often, the accounts you chose to follow Tweeted something interesting. Nobody wants to do that much work, especially at a party, but if you invested in the effort, the payoff was like no other. Which is why we’re seeing so many people struggle to replace Twitter with something else.

New platforms like Post. or Hive Social or anything that comes after are all going to face some version of the same problem: They’re not Twitter. The communities we’ve built for ourselves, some for more than a decade and a half, are not going to be recreated in two weeks, no matter how fast they are working through their waitlists. What we need, honestly, is patience. We are going to fragment. And then we’ll start to reconvene. Maybe we’ll gather around events, or maybe it’ll be because we’re all talking about the same topic. But however it happens, it’s going to be slow and we’re going to need to be mindful of the mistakes we’ve made in the past. Think of it like this: Yes, we had a great time at our 21st birthday party, but there were some people there and some decisions made that we probably regretted the next morning. As we start planning for our metaphorical 22nd birthday, maybe we should just invite a few close friends over for some snacks and a nice board game. Nobody wants to try and host a party in a global town square.

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox

Been Away Too Long

21 November 2022

A replica of the World Cup trophy sits on a table on stage at the Twitter HQ.

The Cup runneth over.

Tonight, let’s start with some facts:

  1. I’m writing these posts in an effort to collect some of my thoughts instead of posting them to Twitter.

  2. For better or worse, most of my thoughts lately have been about Twitter.

  3. I love watching the World Cup.

  4. Supporting the World Cup this year (and in 2018, to be honest) is more than problematic.

  5. Watching the World Cup without Tweeting about it eliminates a ton of the enjoyment I get out of the tournament.

  6. I’m having a very hard time enjoying the things that I love while they are simultaneously being destroyed by ego and greed.

In 2018, I spent hours in The Lodge on the fifth floor of Twitter’s HQ watching match after match of the last World Cup. I was taking pictures and encouraging people to wear their favorite jerseys to work and help create a community around one of my favorite events. All of it was to help illustrate that you could be yourself when you came to work for Twitter. Your passions and personality matter, and we wanted it to show up every day. Since I just so happened to be the Design And Research blog’s editor-in-chief at the time, I also assigned myself a blog post about it, in part to justify all my screen time down there.

I’ve written about the World Cup many times before. In fact, the first item I ever posted on Medium was about going to my first match in 1994. Since that inaugural outing, I’ve traveled to France 98, Korea Japan 2002, Germany 2006, South Africa 2010, and the 2014 edition in Brazil. But with each passing tournament, being a fan of the World Cup became more and more problematic because it also meant you had to be a customer of FIFA. And the level of corruption and misdeeds there just kept getting bigger and bigger. Between the bribery in awarding Russia the 2018 event, and the fact that neither the U.S. nor my beloved Italians qualified for it, I was more than deterred from going to see any matches that year. Watching them at work, and turning those viewing sessions into something positive, just felt like the right antidote.

Putting aside the fact that Italy again failed to qualify this year, the corruption, human rights record, and abuses of the workers hired to build all the needed infrastructure kept me from getting on a plane to Qatar this year. Surely, though, I could find a World Cup community at my new job, especially with the help of my Twitter feed, right? Well, as we now know, Twitter is far from the tool it used to be for following the Cup this year. And I’m left with a very similar question: How can I continue to enjoy something when I disagree so vociferously with the people who control it?

Like many things I enjoy in my life, the enjoyment includes introducing and sharing them with others. Most of the time, that sharing came through Twitter. Without that outlet this year, I’m finding the already subdued reaction I’m having to this year’s World Cup — it’s in November for chrissakes! — even more muted as I watch without a large part of my community.  There’s no immediacy. No online joy. No memes! I hope that this post, and the ones which will probably follow, will help me find a new tribe. Maybe even on Post. But if you’re watching, too, and have complicated feelings about enjoying the matches or Tweeting your reactions, or both, please know that I’m here for you. Even if the Azzurri are not.

See you tomorrow?

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Author  Stephen Fox