It’s now been a few days since former Nottingham Forrest and Liverpool Striker Stan Collymore committed one of the internet’s most tempting, yet most consistently self-suffocating pitfalls: stirring the pot. For those that missed it, let’s get you up to speed:
Stan poked the bear. His message, an effort to denounce the modern wave of terms and phrases gushing onto the football scene, was predictably met with an onslaught of jeers and criticism. It appears as though the stark dichotomy of closely-held opinions we know and love from modern political polarization has officially marked its entry into a new, inescapable infestation site: a parthenon hosting the football conservatives vs. the football progressives. It’s black or white, people, pick a side!
So, in the midst of warring factions, let’s try to make sense of all this nonsense.
We’ll start by taking this tiny hell-raising tweet and drawing out its true undertones. Alrighty Stan, what do you really mean? We’ll also dive into what the other side is thinking, in response, to form a complete image of the online brouhaha.
From there, we’ll conduct an imaginary social experiment that’ll lead us into how this dispute can be mirrored in both rock climbing and fiscal politics. Along the way, we’ll touch upon the feisty dynamics of in-crowds and out-crowds, the troublesome Halo Effect and why microphones have no free will, plus Spongebob will somehow make his way into the narrative. At the end of it all, you’ll hopefully have a better idea as to why this all went down in the first place.
So let’s get started, shall we?
Placemats, Please
Before getting our hands dirty, let’s take a moment to understand the argument beyond the surface level tweet itself. What exactly is going on here? After reading through the slog of sneering assertions and chiding rebuttals, otherwise known as the Twitter comments section, I’ve boiled down this “conversation”–if we can even call it as such–to a few key bullet points:
Stan’s Stance: an artist’s rendition
- Football is a simple game
- Superfluously complex vocabulary, to the degree to which it’s used today, is not necessary to describe the sport
- Many that use this flowery verbiage weaponize it in battles of intellect against opposition that, often, don’t even have an interest in the duel itself
- This new, emboldened crowd of superiority-complex driven fans are polluting what was, once, a simple game
- And lastly–people that use big words do so to alienate others, more so than to enrich themselves
The Booing Online “Hipster”‘s Counter: a second artist’s rendition
- Football is a complex game
- Precise and perceptive vocabulary allows us to color the football world with a wider palette of hues than the skeletal structure defined by the prehistoric lexicon
- The better we can describe something, the better we can understand it and convey it to others
- This old, threatened crowd of classical fans are clutching their pearls as the game evolves past what they once felt was sufficient to grasp, and perhaps even make a living off of, and is now being driven by brilliant outsiders on their overseas laptops
- And lastly–people that complain about things they don’t understand, simply complain .. because they don’t understand
Whew! Lots to get into, but we can’t eat dinner without setting the table, first. Tonight’s meal is sure to be testy, so to weather the storm, we’ll do our best to play the role of that one unamused cousin who tells the squabbling grandpas to “chill out guys” before they get too heated about their pensions. You know the one. We like him. We’ll do our best.
Anyway, bon appétit!
Poor Microphones
The basis of this vocab dispute lies in the ever-shifting social dynamics of in-crowds and out-crowds.
Of the fundamental components that define society, the notions of power, acceptance, and popularity are inextricably linked with how we define “fashion” and “taboo”. A unique garment proposed by a nobody might be perceived as absurdist and ugly by their small circle of critics, but the same article, fabricated by a brand-name design house might be confidently strut across the red carpet. Often, it is not the best ideas that are hailed as so, but those produced atop a platform of some kind.
In the music world, you can guarantee that no matter if Justin Bieber’s next single is flaming trash or actually a hit, it’ll be #1 on the charts. People gravitate towards celebrities. When an album drops, they assume the best, anchored in their preconceived notions. Given that stage to stand on, Justin rarely ever has to win over listeners, he just sings what he wants to sing.
Interestingly enough, consumers can often become so deeply caked in the garbage spewed by those in power that they fail to even recognize how far they’ve sunk. Many unwavering fans of Kanye West, for instance, were quick to remark on the idiosyncratic, genre-defining genius of their musical idol when he released “Lift Yourself” back in 2018. As a refresher, the verse of that “hit” (or perhaps, flaming trash) single goes,
You can argue as much as you want that Kanye is scat singing, or free-styling, or what have you. I won’t argue if it’s empirically bad or good. But what’s undeniable is that this ludicrous psuedo-lyricism never would’ve seen the light of day had it not been for the artist’s elevated status. It’s an extreme example, and I understand that there’s a strong case for the man having earned his place atop the mountain of rappers, but my point is to recognize that sometimes people are heard just because they’re up on stage. A microphone doesn’t have a will of its own, it simply amplifies the voice of the one who wields it.
(Poor microphone).
Petri People, Stage 1: Early Intermingling and Serendipitous Mic Distribution
So taking this idea, if we put 100 humans in a social petri dish, some will naturally feel more emboldened than others to speak their mind. Remember your first day of highschool, as it’s called in the States, or secondary school, as it’s known everywhere else: most kids uneasily mingle while the outspoken type-As make themselves known fast. That eye-catching authority and bravado is sure to win over a posse of friends in no time. They’re building stages for themselves and no one, at the time, can really question it.
Often, at the onset of our social experiment, these “central figures” will be the those upheld by the Halo Effect, a common fallacy that leads us to assume that strong performance in one regard (i.e. “beauty”, “coolness”, or for football: athletic success) will invariably lead to strong performance in another (i.e. helping others, strong academics, or for football: punditry)–even if the two skillsets are unrelated. This idea is strongly mirrored by the artist that lands their godforsaken earache of a new single atop the charts, solely due to fond memories of a recent, successful EP.
It’s a pretty easy trap to fall into. We’ve got little else to base our opinions off of, so we cling to the low-hanging fruit. But just because it’s forgivable, doesn’t make it right.
The Halo Effect means we see a beautifully groomed dog and assume they’re well-behaved, when in reality, they might’ve terrorized the couch pillows prior to combing. When the dust inevitably settles in our petri community, some have carved out a space for themselves, while others haven’t–and it’s largely due to factors outside of what’s being said on the podium.
Petri People, Stage 2: Identification Selection–or Not
With a handful of people beaming down from their respective platforms, what begins to ensue is identification selection.
Here we categorize followers behind the leaders. The columns are defined by the speakers, while the rows are populated by the disciples. Everyone listens to the options, picks a line, and in the case of sport, begins to sharpen their blades. Here we see the religious MNF watchers, the Ray Hudson admirers, and the Arsene-Wenger-Hot-Take aficionados bustle to pledge their allegiances.
But for some, no lines are picked at all. Some members of our dish will feel marginalized by all the loud fanfare, and begin to pursue their own independent avenues. They don’t feel particularly enticed by any of the speakers. Maybe they even actively dislike them. Maybe they think that they can do better.
Since they won’t be able to beat these mic’ed up characters by being more conventionally popular (or by having donned the very shirt of the teams being discussed, a la Roy Keane or many others), they’ll need to think of something a little unconventional. Something that sets them apart.
Consider this the catalyst for what, over time, unfolds as a bipartisan notion of football fandom.
One side of the aisle typically finds itself moved by the holy blood, sweat, and tears of the game, holding firm to the sport’s inseparable emotion like Tevez did the barbed fence of La Bombonera.
The other is grounded in understanding elements beneath the surface, analyzing the mechanisms at play, turning performance percentiles and distributions into art, designing and coding newfangled metrics, and more–all largely perceived by those outside this more academic sphere as sterile, and overly granular.
Group one we might call the conservatives: a collection of traditional fans whose love for the game is dripping in nostalgia and the good ol’ days. These people have a strong history. They can reference Italia 90 cuz they were actually there in the stands. They miss the post-match player pints and gnarly handlebar mustaches of old. The days where players muscled through challenges instead of diving in hopes of a spot kick. The pre-goalline-tech era. Going to war for the badge.
And to many, the beautiful game is dying–if not dead already.
On the other hand we have our hipsters, or more affectionately, the progressives. These members recognize that toxic masculinity played a large part in the crunchingly unforgiving nature of the vintage game and they support its evolution as the world has evolved with it. They think the notepad of a scout who wears binoculars like bling won’t suffice, so they take pitch data and convert it into a meaningful report with much greater informational resolution. These upstream-swimming salmon explore abstract concepts like raumdeuters and drawing new lines all over the field. It’s analytics over antiquity.
They’re all about changing the game, since, to them, the current one isn’t good enough.
As we might expect, these stances soon become deeply entrenched. Not only was an identity picked, but now the members of each party find a significant personal connection to their allegiance. And when I say personal, I mean personal. It’s just like the club you support–we wear the colors, chant the chants, and taunt the opposition. If someone challenges the way you do things, you react with vitriol. It’s just how it works.
And so what ironically emerges is a hostile combat between two sides that .. both love the same thing.
“…what ironically emerges is a hostile combat between two sides that .. both love the same thing.“
It’s a little bizarre!
The pile driver between them is simply how they choose to express their fandom and the hypothetical legitimacy of it. Here’s where those in-crowds and out-crowds come in.
Petri People, Stage 3: Survival of the Fittest
For a moment, if we rewind and peer closer, by the time that the less-traditional fandom community has finally found a place for itself in the petri dish, the long-established one has capitalized on its head start and can be found coated in a glimmering glaze of popularity. It’s like a membrane shield. They feel stable, admired, respected, untouchable, the whole damn thing.
They’ve “made it” and now their aura defines the fandom in-crowd: a circle that envelops birds of feather such that they can conveniently fly together.
As such, the progressive fan’s worst fear is realized and Stan Collymores begin to multiply. You won’t find a tactics guru at the pub drinking Guinness with the stadium hooligans. They’ll probably be telestrating on NacSport. More and more traditionalists begin to mark their territory, cement their place, and block off the outsiders.
But in spite of the competition, the new hipster group begins to gain traction, too, often by building their own smaller platforms of like-minded, often marginalized, sectors of the original petri dish (i.e. all the brilliant people who adore football but never had an illustrious athletic career themselves; “marginalized”, here, should be taken with a grain of salt, as it merely refers to people who’ve previously been gate-kept from partaking in the game “professionally”, but more on that later).
The race is on.
This group has a new, shared interest, and is fueled more so by community and upholding one another, by learning from mistakes and showing their work, than the aloof, shoulder-brushing notoriety that celebrities automatically receive. They create podcasts to hold their own microphones, write for blogs so they can play by their own rules, and take different approaches to solving traditional problems by necessity; without some distinguishing, niche factor, the common consumer would have no other reason to indulge in their work over that of an easy-listening Collymore-esque basking in the limelight. In order to survive, the aspiring football hipster simply can’t conform.
… [they] take different approaches to solving traditional problems by necessity.
So what do they do?
Arguably the most notable climber within the tactical sophistication movement is Rene Maric.
The Austrian started by writing posts for Spielverlagerung from the comfort of his couch, before soon finding himself as the Assistant Coach tasked to face the fabled Pep Guardiola he once wrote about, in none other than the Champions League knock stages. Having never played professionally, Maric leaped onto the world’s stage by building a community of admirers and earning his ticket.
Within the grassroots, data-driven decision-making club, there are many more pertinent examples of bright people who previously may never have had the chance to partake in the beautiful game, leveraging their outside skills to solve tough soccer problems.
Former particle physicists, economists, and lawyers are using R and Python to see beyond the surface and uncover revealing trends about players, teams, and leagues. They’re then getting paid by Championship and MLS clubs to do it fulltime. It’s really quite surreal.
But 27 year-old Maric, in particular, segues nicely into what’s arguably most remarkable about this democratization of football involvement: a renaissance of youth.
Students from across the world who’ve never been in the halftime locker room at Merseyside, but have developed an ingenious scouting metric for quantifying how well midfielders can progress the ball out of tight spaces, are also earning a seat at the table.
And rightfully so.
If invitations are distributed based on merit and contribution, anyone who’s moving the sport forward deserves to be there. (I’d even venture to say that those easily dismissed as being “stuck in the past” do too. It’s a balancing act of innovation and staying grounded. Both have their place.)
Kids are sharing their ideas anonymously, online, so that their work can be judged not by who they are, but what they say. It’s a convenient tactic for pushing back on the traditional Halo-Effect petri dish tendency for mic distribution. Soon enough, we’ve got young journalists like Reshad Rahman or “Hagrid”, per his old pseudonym, sending fist bump emojis to Fabrizio Romano for all to see. If it weren’t for the curtains that allowed their work to speak for itself, talented soccer fans, contributors, and creators like Rahman may never have been granted the credibility they’ve now unanimously earned.
What we’re witnessing is an impressive power shift. People that were once excluded from partaking in the game’s discourse are now supporting themselves with Patreons and Substacks. More voices are chiming in.
And so an idealist might ask, “then what the hell is problem? what happened to ‘the more, the merrier?'”
And what a great question that would be.
Yeah? Why can’t we coexist? Why can’t those that’ve been granted platforms enjoy the view, while extending a hand downwards for ambitious climbers? Why can’t we all realize that we’re fighting over the same thing? All we want to do is enjoy bloody football, so why can’t we?
At which point, we stumble upon a sobering reality. As depressing as it may sound, for those who have everything, what they own becomes nothing if everyone else has it too. Many insiders don’t perceive any upside for propping the door open behind them.
“for those who have everything, what they own becomes nothing if everyone else has it too.”
I’ll Have a Glass of Your Finest Bourbon, Sir
Experiences, money, fancy cars, prestigious education, anything we can possibly imagine, is only valuable if it’s rare. Exclusivity drives market value. If every U12 Dutch kid made the cut at Ajax’s youth tryouts, their academy’s allure would plummet. If every aspiring American student was admitted to Harvard, people wouldn’t care that they attended anymore. Why drink expensive liquor if others can sip on it too? Things are only impressive, only cool, and only worth consuming if you are one of the very few that gets to. That’s an arguably miserable truth we’ve got to come to terms with.
Thus, ultimately, what we find is that the both the in-crowd and out-crowd both find solace in knowledge that only they have access to. It’s a fight for territory–and it’s hardly amicable.
Just like a TV pundit might conjure up memories of playing alongside Paul Scholes, a highly exclusive experience no matter how you look at it, stats nerds that strongly grasp xG might feel enticed to wave it in the faces of those that once stuck their tongues out at them. It’s a game of weaponized exclusion. Proprietary intellectual property is the Krabby Patty Secret Formula for any person or organization. If you’ve got something special, and your competitors don’t, we’re taught to guard that thing like nothing else.
But the key, unbalancing distinction between each side here is that the in-crowd has more to lose than their challengers. Much more, in fact. TV deals, advertising gigs, big-money flashy camera things of which the out-crowd has none of, all hang in the balance. If our elites are embarrassed, publicly debunked, or otherwise overthrown, there’s greater consequence than if an out-crowder were to be subject to the same fate. Fragile reputations are at stake. There are simply more people watching.
Further, a climber who topples from the peak of a mountain will not only suffer the disappointment of having once been at the top, only to now arrive at the bottom–but the impact with the ground is sure to hurt much more than if someone at the base had simply tripped.
This precarious nature, then, means that when swords are drawn and attacks are made, those at the proverbial top may often feel obliged to overreact in their response. They’ll use whatever tools at their disposal–be it ridicule, mockery, or televised repudiation–to quell the uprising. Stan, here, is laughing at an array of phrases he portrays as idiotic, so that he won’t feel like an idiot, himself. It’s jarring, but within ourselves, we can tell he’s feeling the heat.
Why Free Soloists Will Delegitimize
Purportedly obfuscating terms like those listed by Stan (take double pivot for instance), threaten the expertise of the in-crowd that likely didn’t gain success by using them.
Imagine if someone who scaled a cliff face with nothing but their bare hands was made aware of carabiners, belay devices, and harnesses. They might scoff at the newfangled equipment. They might even proclaim them to be idiotic, unnecessary, or worthy of being tossed in the “bin”, but it’s largely a fear of the new climbers achieving their same feat with different, and often more sophisticated, tools that generates this immense discomfort.
“Why must the rules change?”
“Why can’t everyone be held to the same standards as I was?”
“This advancing technology invalidates the new climbers’ achievements! This isn’t good ol’ fashioned rock climbing, this is something else! No!”
When the climber sees those below discovering things they never were able to–finding new techniques for swinging between ledges or unraveling novel understandings of the rock contours themselves (and perhaps, as a result, traversing the cliff at a faster pace)–the ensuing wave of insecurity will cause the former champion to lash out. We can’t be surprised if we see them subtly kick a few pebbles down the bluff to impede the advancing competition.
For those at the zenith, stability means comfort. If nothing changes, they stay at the top. No one joins them. They don’t have to share.
But if new faces begin to emerge through the dense fog below, it imperils their longevity at the summit. Suddenly, they’re now in jeopardy of losing what’s theirs. And even more concerningly, with one quick glance down below, it’s easy to see that more people than ever have started to climb.
Let’s Talk About Wealth, Baby
There’s another all-too-familiar way to look at this: through the lens of rich vs. the middle or lower class financial behavior. Sure rock climbing is intriguing, but now let’s get serious.
As people accrue wealth, we note that they tend to lean towards more conservative ideals. These collective beliefs uphold those that’ve made it onto the roof and, by virtue of doing so, tend to kick the ladder out from underneath, once they’ve gotten there.
For the affluent who feel strongly that they’ve earned their status, this makes sense–the thought process being something along the lines of “why should my money be taxed more so someone who didn’t work as hard as me can benefit?” From the top, it’s easy to see life as purely meritocratic.
This mentality builds a moat around their community, making it harder for those seeking to climb the ladder after them. The more people that arrive at the top, in a most-counterintuitive fashion, the harder it gets to find rungs to ascend. For the football aristocracy, it’s in their best interest to be territorial and define the elite as those pre-existing within the in-crowd. It’s a mode of constructed superiority.
But there’s another, perhaps more revealing outlook that transcends the largely-superficial exclusivity complex, “If everyone’s up here, then it makes being up here, and therefore me, less special.”
“…if everyone’s up here, then it makes being up here, and therefore me, less special.”
Remember, it’s deeply personal. These things are wayy too personal.
When threats are not only perceived as putting a job, or a passion, or a career at stake–but a livelihood, a persona, or a legacy–things get out of hand. When things as critical to the demarkation of in-crowds and out-crowds, like language, begin to tremble like tectonic plates, the tremors can be nauseating. And even if we interpret the changes as sensible, a step forward, or adding to the football experience, it alienates those who’ve never been alienated. That’s a dangerous thing.
You see, the out-crowd knows what it’s like to be unconvinced by any of the petri dish lines. They understand the feeling of speaking but not being heard. Of having things to offer but no one to accept them. Of seeing people all around them “in” on the proverbial joke, while they squirm in discomfort. They’re used to it all.
Years of being booted from the gates of something you love will calcify a shell around anyone. But if suddenly, the bouncer becomes the “bouncee”, it’s an unsettling, novel experience, and they’re bound to react with much greater sensitivity.
Final Thoughts
What we can gather from this highly-revealing online ruckus is that our sport is exceedingly divided. No matter how we look at it, we arrive at the same conclusion:
Those that enjoy things, as they are, will resist change. Those that don’t, will try to change them.
This combative notion permeates our culture in more ways than we can possibly imagine. The finest magicians will never give away their secrets, successful entrepreneurs will only provide their disingenuous career tips if you buy their online course, and people paid to talk about football will never let an outsider, in.
It is, perhaps, this very nature of things, juxtaposed with the collaborative spirit of the climbers down below, that makes the progressive movement so worth rooting for. We see a snickering podium rider and feel compelled to root for the underdog. Plus, the underdog looks a lot more like us. The day a “nobody” from the internet ends up anchoring Fox Sports, all other “nobodies” will rejoice. And that includes me.
I’d also argue that it’s cool when things get better. We should always be in favor of the game introducing new ideas and perspectives. If there’s an improved way of doing things, isn’t it better to know about it, than exist in a false-reality of denial? Why risk the climb without a hook and a few extra tools? If we’re all racing, you’d be better off keeping up!
We should check those with microphones with greater frequency. Coaches ought to continue securing credentials as the course material updates periodically, as opposed to brandishing archaic diplomas. If it’s too hard to make it the responsibility of the individual to evolve, we must all hold them accountable.
There’s also something to be said for the importance–not of language antiquating the old-fashioned–but of a wider sport dictionary strengthening the cultural bonds we all share.
Surface level, rudimentary vocabulary like “clearance” or “offside trap” can be enjoyed by everyone, but if we construct new, more intricate ways of saying things, we fortify what it means to be a soccer person, rather than focusing so much on the split between dinosaurs and hippies. We all push football forth, together.
Jesse Marsch often cites the specificity with which the German and Red Bull schools’ terminology targets certain ideas. As I learned from a seminar he delivered to the Bavarian Club of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA, they have words for “the final step a presser takes before stealing the ball” and “lofted chipped throughballs over a high defensive line”. These tiny little details in the fabric of a match–it’s like the meticulous biological nomenclature of bugs–they’ve labeled each and every one of them.
Putting words to these ideas gives them a life of their own. Marsch cites the ease with which directions and instructions can be conveyed once everyone is on this elevated, but same page. It goes a long way in creating a culture for people to buy into and builds a sense of collective identity. Suddenly, we’re converting this divide of in-crowds and out-crowds into a single crowd that’s firmly in.
It also lets us find greater appreciation for the finer things–of which, in football, there are many. Sure, Stan, you can travel around the world and note the monuments, but wouldn’t it be even better if you could tune into the local conversations, the toothsome cuisine, or even watch the kids kicking a ball around the backstreets? I’m certain that, in a world full of things to treasure, there are little ones you’d hate to miss. 20 words might suffice, but if 300 can do better, wouldn’t you be interested?
I’ll add that this notion of cultivating otherwise-unusual words and phrases for communicating within a group has been widely adopted. David Lynch, the director of the dreamy and critically-acclaimed Twin Peaks TV series–and probably the enigmatic Marcelo Bielsa equivalent for American film–has expressed that he, too, utilizes code words to convey ideas with his actors.
Directors and their cast, coaches and their squad–I hope you’re picking up what I’m putting down.
“With acting, you start rehearsing and the thing may be all over the place. And you have a rehearsal–wherever it is, it is. And you talk. But the talking, it is talking that maybe doesn’t make so much sense… but it does to me and whoever I’m talking to. And you can feel it making sense.“
— David Lynch
You develop a language whose usage, in and of itself, cultivates a feeling of belonging. It’s hard to hate on that.
To the question of math and statistics’ growing territory in football, don’t take the argument from me. Take it from the astute guys at the Football Fanalytics Podcast, who appear to similarly enjoy using analogies to make things a bit easier to understand. In Ep. 28 of their show, Ryan Bailey and Mark Carey remark that, “…like with anything that’s subjective, you can always add a bit more objectivity to it”. They go on to explain that,
“…if you were to go to the doctor, for example, and say that’ve you’ve got pain in your elbow, then that’s quite a subjective thing. Then you wouldn’t just be like ‘okay, well, I feel it, so that is just the fact.’ So in order to kind of supplement that subjective feeling, you might go and get some tests. You might go get an x-ray. You might have other more objective tests that look more closely into it and back up that feeling with data.”
–The Football Fanalytics Podcast
It’s a fantastic way of looking at things, and quite irrefutable. Why rely on hunches, or listen to post-match debates on “who wanted it more” when we can quantify how well each team capitalized on their chances? Would you ever get heart surgery without doing some bloodwork, first?
But before we all hop on the hipster bandwagon, I want to make clear that there’s also plenty of room to re-think things if you’d categorize yourself as one of the many roaring progressives.
Amongst the follow-up tweets Collymore makes, he consistently alludes to the elitist impression these “culturally illiterate” bloggers (many of whom, he cites, reside in the soccer-ignorant US) make on their more traditional counterparts. His reasoning being that they use these new ideas simply as a form of constructed intellectual superiority, without really adding anything at all.
And yes, it’s painfully ironic for someone who’s career (which, in the eyes of some, involves consistently not adding much at all) has remained afloat largely in part to the constructed superiority they themselves have reaped the benefits from, but there is a twinkle of value in his complaint.
What’s important for climbers to understand is the merit of not being abrasive. It’s something I, myself, have dealt with time and time again. Recall, that with the cliff champions standing above, there are plenty of pebbles to be kicked down. Progressives may be advised to invite as few of those flying pellets as possible, even if watching the rocks skitter down makes us grin.
In practice, what this means is that those introducing new ideas must be subtle and tactful in the ways in which they seek to implement them. Not tricky and deceptive, but thoughtful and considerate. Yes, the commentator can wave his Paul Scholes camaraderie at you, but you can’t complain about Stan rejecting the idea of expected goals if you’ve been waving xG right back. The underdog almost invariably must take the highroad.
If the goal is the proliferation of press resistance and expected threat, then it is the job of the innovator to make those ideas digestible for those that retch at their mere sight. I know it may sound ridiculous, since for the innovator themselves, the ideas are perfectly simple to comprehend, but this is critical to assuage the widely held belief that these progressives are “sophisticating” for the sake of sophistication, and that instead, they actually are bringing something of value to the table. As the adage goes, if you can’t explain something to a five year old, you don’t understand it at all. For those looking to revamp the sport with new ideas, they must be able to boil them down into bites that even the most unconvinced can still swallow.
I’ve used the analogy before at Touchline Theory (in the context of drill design, as you can find in the Crossed World Cup session, below), but one way to do this is by “cooking spinach brownies”: concealing things that are good for you in an enticing package–that ultimately benefits all parties when consumed. When entering a conversation on “to bin or not to bin”, you mustn’t berate the opposing arguer by pointing and laughing at their inferior knowledge. If your aim is progress, then doing so is entirely counterintuitive. Instead, you must find a way to relate it to their current world view, express how it can contribute to their own understanding, and gradually build up to the idea at large. Rule of thumb for conversing with any stakeholder: don’t focus on the details of the idea itself, drive home how it can benefit them.
Even more empathetically, we must be comfortable with the idea that not everyone, regardless of if the spinach is steamed plain, baked in a pie, or disguised in a scrumptious dessert, may want to eat. The best any progressive can do, is do their best.
But in doing so, be wary of the cardinal sin of discussing any highly-polarized topic: entering the conversation with the intention of “converting” the other party.
The progressives ought not attempt to colonize, nor should the conservatives. The objective would be much more productively aimed towards opening peoples’ eyes to new ideas; of broadening perspective to understand how different people that both fundamentally enjoy the same thing, can do so differently.
If you start a chat with an old-school fanatic hoping to convince them to work for StatsBomb, you’ve failed from minute one. If you’re loading up your rebuttal comment to Stan with taunting memes, laughing emojis, or a feeble attempt to “ratio” him, that’s pointless and even worse. We have to push ourselves to be okay with others existing, regardless of how obsolete we might consider their world view to be.
And, of course, in order for this to work, people need to be comfortable listening. This goes for everyone, and once more, applies to every little corner of our lives, too. The ability to consider alternatives, challenge our own way of thinking, and accept that everyone has a right to their own opinion (or approach to football fandom), the happier we’ll all end up.
I’d also tag on that just as important as listening is, ignoring may ironically be a useful tool, too. If someone provokes an obnoxious online fracas, it may be best to just go back to your own business. There are undoubtedly moments in which giving into goading can only sully the work you’ve worked hard to produce. As the ever-applicable saying goes,
“Never wrestle with pigs. You both get dirty and the pig likes it.”
–George Bernard Shaw
Now if you’re worried that all of this is too quixotic, you might be right, but the parting idea I’ll leave you with is the notion that we can only control ourselves.
If you envision a world in which this beautiful game is democratized, and anyone who has things to offer, can, then you must start with you.
Host healthy dialogues but don’t shy away from challenging the status quo; conjure up new metrics and create new ways in which they can more easily be explained or implemented; focus on learning instead of pompously parading your intellect; listen and read things you don’t agree with, so that even if the authors refuse to acknowledge you, you’ll understand what makes them tick; and most of all, don’t forget that we’re all in love with the same thing.
Till next time.
