Tag: stories

Analyst or Innovator?

When I was growing up, I loved baseball. I loved playing it. I loved watching it. But most of all, I loved checking out baseball statistics.

Even though I was no math whiz, my young mind recognized that those numbers I saw in the newspaper box scores were actually a barometer. A player who batted to a .330 average with 30 Home Runs and 100 Runs Batted In would be someone I’d want to see starting for my favorite team. One who batted .210 with 5 homers and 25 RBI would not.

Whenever I saw those guys with poor statistics in a box score, I responded with bemusement. Why would a team run a player out there who hadn’t proven he could hit?

Of course, I failed to consider the ancillary reasons for those low numbers. Maybe the player was known for his outstanding defense. Maybe he was anxious because his wife was due any day with their first child. Maybe he was suffering from colitis but trying to tough it out anyway.

These scenarios wouldn’t erase goose eggs in a box score. But they would put them into context.

In particular, they had the power to integrate the human element into an industry based on numerical benchmarks. And given baseball’s legacy of pageantry and tradition, this element was sorely needed.

***

Sadly, that human element is harder to find these days.

It’s long gone from baseball. Statisticians are now an integral part of the sport’s brain trust, and players are judged on obscure metrics like WAR, Exit Velocity, Launch Angle and Spin Rate. (Sometimes, when I tune in to a baseball broadcast, I feel like I’m watching cyborgs.)

But it’s disappeared from many other industries as well. Big data is in vogue and seemingly every decision out there comes from cold, hard numbers. A whole new class of employees spend their days looking at analytics and reporting to their bosses solely on those very same numbers. They might not know it, but these analysts are now the key cogs that define their employers’ strategies.

This all seems well and good on the surface. More young adults can now have access to corporate jobs that actually impact their employers’ strategies. And companies don’t have to gamble with profitability each time they change things up; the cold, hard data is within arm’s reach.

But dig a little deeper, and you’ll find the quandary.

***

We were never meant to take the human element out of the equation. Anyone who’s watched Star Trek knows that instinct and emotion are just as critical as logic in completing our mission.

On a high level, our love affair with data-based decision making excludes us from any growth opportunities that require breaking from the norm, or bending the rules. It sacrifices our independence of thought in favor of hard numbers, thereby compromising our integrity.

But on a more basic level, our all-in data approach has created a new class of professionals. A class that is as stuck in the mud as Joe Pesci was in My Cousin Vinny.

You see, it’s relatively easy to analyze data that’s already there. Assuming one has a certain level of specialization, it’s even a secure area to work in.

But this type of occupation doesn’t provide a great opportunity for growth. There’s no need to go beyond the numbers. After all, no one’s looking for us to do that.

***

We were meant for something greater. We weren’t meant to be analysts. We were meant to be innovators.

And while the world at large seems to be pulling in the other direction, we don’t have to follow suit.

We have more to contribute than the digits on our spreadsheets and the colored arrows on our charts. There are untold stories behind those trends and totals. Stories that tie the often-unpredictable course of human psychology to the concrete data we cultivate like corn on a Nebraska field.

We must tell those stories to tie everything together. We must tell these stories to forge a new way forward for a society that has doubled down on a solitary variable. We must tell these stories to lead.

This process might seem uncomfortable. Unsafe even.

That’s OK. Innovators never take the well-worn path.

But regardless of our apprehension, we owe it to ourselves to explore our true potential. We owe it to humanity to take that leap. We owe it to our future to make the right choice.

Analyst or innovator?

The answer should be clear.

River Tales

I recently took a trip with some friends down to Central Texas to float the Guadalupe River. It was an epic weekend filled with hot sun, cold beers and adventure. A summertime treat.

Tubing might seem like a simple venture, but here in Texas, it’s a sacred pastime — a fact that becomes ever more apparent to me each time I do it. For while Texas has countless rivers and lakes, thousands of people converge upon two of them — the Comal and the Guadalupe — in and around the city of New Braunfels each summer. So, on a scorching afternoon, you’re likely to see the river packed with inner tubes and floating coolers. It’s like a giant floating fiesta.

Still, for all the tradition and pageantry of tubing the Guadalupe, it’s a bit surprising that I’ve taken to this activity the way I have. I abhor mud and rocky rapids, and I’ve historically been more inclined to be in the water than on it —  particularly when the mercury hits triple digits. On the surface, tubing would not appear to be “my jam.”

Yet, every time I wade into the refreshingly cool water and climb up into my inner tube, it’s like I’m born again. What gives?

I gave this contradiction much thought during this most recent trip. Then I opened my eyes and realized my answer was all around me.

You see, tubing combines the best of what Texas has to offer in one setting. It melds the serenity of rivers in the picturesque Hill Country with cold beers and friendly people out to have a good time. It’s both individual and communal, peaceful and exciting. There’s something in it for everyone.

And while there are some drawbacks to setting a bunch of people and booze on a natural current, the plusses are that much greater. Tubing has turned New Braunfels — a small city between San Antonio and Austin — into a summertime mecca, complete with more hotels and restaurants than many Texas towns its size can boast. This, in turn, has produced plenty of jobs around town for the locals — to go along with those offered by the tube rental businesses upriver.

Just as importantly, tubing allows Texans of all origins to come together in one place. On my most recent journey downriver, I met people from Houston and Odessa — two cities 500 miles apart. While it’s no secret that Texas is a big state, it is a secret outside these parts that Texas is the Caddo word for “friend.” And while some like to spin the narrative that Texans are angry gun-wielding pickup truck drivers, the real narrative is right there on that river — where strangers from far corners of the state gather as friends in peaceful recreation.

Yes, the stories are what I love the most about tubing the Guadalupe. The story of the river winding through limestone hills, same is it did back when the buffalo roamed free. The story of how some pioneering Texans created a summer recreational paradise on those waters, all while taking little more than what the river and hills already gave them. The story of how a small Texas town became a renowned destination. The story of how people from all over Texas take part in the experience, socializing with strangers along the way. And yes, the stories of the adventures you encounter on the way downstream.

(Those tend to be a doozy, as was the case on this recent trip.)

These stories are what makes this activity so timeless and resonant. At the core, these stories what it means to be Texan.

I realize how special all of that is. And it’s why I’m already excited for my next trip down the river, whenever that may be.