All is vanity, or so it seems in Manchester

The news today is all about Manchester City. And the shifting sands of Abu Dhabi. Vast sums of oil-derived money funding an English football club, some of it illegally, and taking it to great heights. Let’s remind ourselves where the money comes from – crude oil, laid down in the Jurassic era 150 million years ago. And how recent is its exploitation. I remember reading Wilfred Thesiger’s account of crossing the Empty Quarter of Arabia, when it was an empty quarter, reaching Abu Dhabi and seeing surveyors looking for oil. We’re back in 1948.

Let’s go back further. We’ve been in Galloway, south-west Scotland, and up in the hills. The glaciers retreated there 15,000 years ago, leaving glacial moraines, drumlins, humps of rock scraped and carried under glaciers. Go back another 450 million years and we have two continents colliding, one sliding under another, and the top level being scraped off, a mixture of mud and sand which hardened into what’s now known as greywacke. Those grassy humps in the green fields of Galloway have history.

Move forward, we’re still in Galloway, to the 18th century, and enclosures: a demand for meat and leather from expanding towns encourages landowners to consolidate their estates, throw tenants off the land, take down the old and build new walls around bigger fields. Today, further consolidating, bigger farms, and the old farm buildings left to decay.

I used to wake each morning, looking out to a field with mainly Ayrshire cattle grazing and, beyond, to the open sea. On a far coast, just visible, lay Garlieston, from where steamers took migrants, escaping lands which could no longer give them employment, to Liverpool and a life over the ocean.

The timescales of the wide world in which we’re embedded are vast and yet we proceed entirely oblivious of them. We lay down a concrete world, as if it’s forever, with no thought of what it will look like when it decays. The finer Victorian buildings were built of solid stone and that at least weathers into the landscape. We fire up a world based on oil, which has a time-limited future, and cities, and countries, whose prosperity is oil-derived, will have to rapidly adjust if they’re not to become relics themselves.

If I was a City supporter (I am Manchester born and bred and my allegiance is United), I’d have been in a sorry state this morning. City’s recent fortunes have been built on the shifting sands of Arabia. (Until sixty years ago United had a local butcher as chairman and majority shareholder.) Football is of course all about short-term and never-lasting glory. Not for a moment would I devalue it as a sport but it does entangle itself in extraordinary nets.

Manchester has the Pennine moors. Abu Dhabi has the sand and Persian Gulf. Galloway, cattle and the Irish Sea. Trump has maybe never walked a mountain path. He aspires to a vast ballroom and the infamous Trump arch. Owning football club is always a vanity project, though a far more reasonable one.

I’ve never tried it but climb to a highpoint on Man City’s Emirates stadium, and the moors will be your near neighbours.

Head there for a walk.

Kind of Blue – Miles Davis, football and the night sky

In case you’re wondering. This isn’t Zenpolitics. It’s me, sounding off. This will happen occasionally. I might occasionally touch on politics. And Zen remains a lodestar for me. But trying to put the two together in today’s world is a fool’s game. But that won’t stop me, from time to time, sounding off.

**

You lose so much more when you don’t know what it is you’re losing.

Jazz

I recently caught up again after forty years with Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue. I was listening on Apple Music via my iPhone. I let it run and more music followed, all of which I engaged with, but none of which I’d chosen. My old CD player sits quietly by, like my CDs, reminding me of days when I chose my own music, rather than ‘my’ music choosing me.

There’s so much choice in every possible field out there. Algorithms are our masters and mistresses and they can be so much fun. They do the choosing for us. But it’s their pathway, not ours.

*

Can I apply the same line of reasoning to baseball and from there to football (soccer, if you will)? It’s data analysis that’s the starting-point for what follows. Algorithms have now taking it all so much further.

Baseball

I’ve just read Michael Lewis’s ‘Moneyball’. (Having also caught up with the movie. Both are marvellous.) Billy Beane, general manager of the Oakland As, is the hero. He disallows all the personal judgements of the coaches old and new who trusted their instincts and experience. On what basis?

The early-80s had seen a revolution in financial markets. Data was computerised and risk could be offset by grouping mortgages and loans into financial instruments which revolutionised both the markets and precipitated extraordinary growth. No-one had thought until the mid-90s of inputting baseball data, every aspect, every player, past and present. The big event as every American and few Brits know is the annual draft, when players are selected. The stakes are high and the bidding rapid and the more you know about a player the better you can match him to your requirements.

One Harvard maths graduate hadn’t followed the path to Wall Street. He analysed every bit of baseball data he could access and then came to work with Billy Beane, and they put together teams (their players kept getting poached, so ‘teams’ is the word) which out-performed the big-league teams with only a third of the budget. Their players were highly effective at some specific aspect of the game, not all. They balanced their skill sets, where other teams went for the all-rounders, the big hitters, the more obvious superstars.

Football

They were scorned and ridiculed by the old school. Now it’s the norm. Also for other sports. I saw a T-shirt yesterday (they come with a million different messages) with all the different team formations we now talk about in football, variations on 4-3-2-1 upwards and downwards. (Liverpool have played 4-2-3-1 for the majority of games this season.)

Players must have the characteristics to fit a manager’s preferred set-up. One message from Oakland: you need manager, coaching team and owner all of one mind and in it for the long term. (Or at least until disaster strikes!) Another message: scouts and manager have to look for players who might not be the most glamorous, who may be undervalued elsewhere, but who might just blend into the kind of lower-budget teams, the likes of Bournemouth and Nottingham Forest, who’ve proved they can take under-performing big names apart.

The big teams have of course now learnt the same lesson. They stretch their recruitment net wide. (Check out the algorithm-based assessments of Premier League players that the Football Critic website runs each week.) But there are always the smaller clubs who undistracted by current success recruit teams that can take on anyone. Maybe they’re just using algorithms better. Watching how all this happens is one of the joys of football!

All this close analysis does sound heavy duty. Is putting a decent team together now very little about hunch and much more about data? Be that as it may, it does mean that the clever small guy can sometimes come out on top against the not-so-bright big guy, and that does just keep on happening.

Michael Parkinson wrote about his childhood memories of ‘Skinner’ Normanton and Barnsley FC. And remember Vinnie Jones from thirty years ago? OK, they kicked a few shins and pushed the boundaries. But how much have we lost by football losing the hard boot and the raw edge?
*

We could apply similar arguments to almost every sphere of life these days. We’re told, for example, that if you find yourself a green field, could be a football pitch (no floodlights), and look up to the sky, you can find all the planets in alignment this month. We all troop outside and try and fathom what’s going on.

What we miss is the fact that the night sky on a clear night is always amazing. The fun lies in tracking the planets month by month.

Take the world as it comes. Don’t try and boss it too much.

Better a team of non-algorithmically-chosen players making music (sometimes massively off-key) on a football field? Or an information-driven well-oiled machine that knows how to win?

It’s a question to which there isn’t a simple answer.