Statistical Tsunami

We are being overrun by statistics, you know. And, to prove my point, 73% agree. You’re right in thinking that I pulled that number out of thin air, but nevertheless, you’d be hard-pressed to claim that such numbers haven’t become the primary means of describing the current state of our lives, be it economic, religious, medical, or any one of a multitude of pigeon-holes.

I can remember when I was first exposed to statistics: as a young boy, three out of four dentists recommended Crest toothpaste. At least that’s what the guy on TV said and who was I to argue? (I used Colgate, by the way, and still do.) I couldn’t help but wonder how many dentists were asked about toothpaste. At least four, I guessed, but even as an unformed thought, the statistic created doubt in my mind about the bigger picture surrounding this seemingly innocuous yet significant number.

Today we are confronted with an ever-increasing spate of statistics that, while providing a better-or-worse barometer, continue to fail in providing the whole picture. Our birthrate is the lowest in 100 years. What about 101 years? Or 125? Did someone pick 100 years to prove a point about the birthrate or to create a false impression? Housing numbers are dismal. Some statistics are the worst on record and, because of that, are hard to argue with. Others are limited in time frame, though, and that lessens their value.

Opinion polls are other forms of gathering statistics. Some may be aware of my aversion to these creatures and I’ll spare the rest of you a segue into that arena. Suffice it to say that, while we get numbers claiming to represent the mood of the citizenry, we know nothing about the questions asked or those who responded and their personal agendas. We’ve all used language to pose a question in such a way that pretty much ensures a specific answer. Do we trust pollsters to avoid such chicanery or accept the fact that their paycheck comes from those interested in certain outcomes?

The sporting world is perhaps the most awash in numbers and stats. And I can’t help but think that, as I write this, someone is coming up with a new statistic to further muddy the water of an enterprise that comes down to a simple final score. Perhaps the most ludicrous in all of sport is that of batting average: Ted Williams and his batting average of .400 is the peak that today’s ballplayers strive to reach. You know, of course, that this number reflects a success rate at the plate of only 40%.

“Welcome aboard today’s flight, folks. This is your Captain speaking and I’m happy to announce that I’ve just been awarded my airline’s highest honor by successfully completing 40% of my flights.” Kinda gives you a nice, warm feeling, doesn’t it? Or not. Would you select a surgeon based on this lofty number? Or a lawyer? I doubt it. Yet baseball awards the batting championship based on a number that falls even lower and represents an overall failure at the plate.

Can we escape this flood of numbers? I doubt it, but we can become more suspicious of the intent behind them rather than accepting them in a sound bite designed to shape our perceptions at the cost of the reality. And the more convoluted they seem and the more limitations they include should serve only to heighten that skepticism. My only substantive suggestion is to Major League Baseball: how about a “Successful-At-Bat” statistic. This would include sacrifice flies, moving runners along, and other strategies that signify the correlation between strategy and execution. I can only hope that this number would lie somewhere above 50% and more fairly represent the hitter’s success when holding a bat.