Records, Records, Records

Records have a rare currency in the sports world. The mystique of the unprecedented, the “unbroken record,” surrounds any and all athletic competition. Seemingly, these records offer us a quantifiable method to weigh achievement and frame moments in an historical sequence. But then the records themselves gain a foggy mystery and an academic remoteness. The mystique of vibrant sports figures begin to dim, beside the solemnly collected and assiduously studied data. Records themselves become the Rosetta Stone for understanding the language of sports.

In terms of the mystique of records, the last three years have been a revelatory period in speed sailing. In October of 2008, a French kitesurfer, Sebastien Cattelan, cracked an unprecedented 50 knots at the Lüderitz Speed Challenge. Within a month, the 50-knot threshold became the equivalent of a four-minute mile. At once undreamt-of, now suddenly very attainable. More fascinating than the record itself is another Frenchman, Alain Thébault, a defiant, self-proclaimed “Icarus of the sea,” who has pushed the record to 51.4 knots, as of September 2009. When our historical consciousness fades temporarily, the mystique of our “Icarus” grows.



By this summer, the NBA might see a very different barometer of “unprecedence” forged. Last summer, Boston Celtics power forward Rasheed Wallace was brought in to compliment the defensive prowess of the team. Celtics fans also hoped his diminished playing time would keep his intensity high but his ejections and technical fouls low. Throughout his fifteen years in the league, Wallace has most resembled Thor, the mythological, thunder-clapping, and bearded Anglo-Saxon.

When introduced to those fans, Wallace said that he would accept happily any role that coach Doc Rivers would assign him, as long as it led to victories. Mostly, that’s exactly what he’s done for the aging Eastern Conference contender. This NBA season, Wallace has averaged almost 24 minutes, but with an astonishing fourteen technical fouls. For every five quarters he spends on the court, Wallace gets a technical foul. Likely, he will fall short of his own regular-season record of 41 technicals in a season. But, if he remains on pace (and on the floor), Wall will set a new record for most technical-fouls-per-minutes-on-the-floor. A dubious record, indeed.

A dubious new standard in the world of college recruiting has been estabished, as well. In the first week of February, the University of Florida set a precedent for monopolizing ESPNU 150 recruits: he brought in 15 of them, including four in the top ten. Aside from the usual moral qualms I have about the insulated and upside-down world of college recruiting, I consider the mania around National Signing Day especially misplaced. In fact, Meyer’s recruiting achievement illustrates all the sticky problems with record-breaking.

First, collecting talent does not ordain winning seasons or grabbing championships. Since Pete Carroll’s arrival, the USC program has dominated recruiting, but has never matched the success of 2005, which is almost a half-decade ago. The real significance of accumulating stud high school players or home runs or speed sailing records might pale beside the furor that the topic initially raises.


Secondly, and more importantly, you have to consider the “Michael E. Mann Factor.” In 2001, Mann, a celebrated climatologist and professor at Penn State University, crafted a graph (known as “the hockey stick graph”) that gave a powerfully visual weight to the polemical environmentalist’s position of global warming. It would feature prominently in Al Gore’s book and movie An Inconvenient Truth. Last year, though, private emails sent by Mann and circulated on the web seemed to give credence to the fact that he (and perhaps other climatologists) had distorted evidence to verify the existence of climate change and alarm the public. Now, this discovery does not shake the scientific foundation for climate change research, but it does illustrate how even someone professionally invested in objectivity can be willing to distort evidence to fit a preconceived notion or even a widely-held professional consensus.

Let me explain how the Michael E. Mann Factor weighs in college recruiting. A consensus is established around a program or a coach, simply as a talent evaluator or as talent developer. Since the evidence on a recruit’s ability is weak, recruits rise and fall depending on how their stock is graded by those very coaches and programs. As at a roulette table, three-star athletes are transformed into five-star guys, and five-star players slip into mediocrity.

Again, a consensus is formed around a recruit and even a region (Florida is talent-rich, Connecticut is not). Since Florida coach Urban Meyer is a great recruiter, the ESPNU and Rivals.com recruitniks will always rate his classes highly. Even though their previous estimations had those same athletes rated low. (As long as he happens to win championships, too.) And, since the recruitniks will always rate him highly, the legend of coach Urban Meyer as a great recruiter grows. (It also helps that he lauds his recruits, like a gushing mother hen. Meyer has suggested this 2010 crop is, to a person, the finest individuals, the brightest academic stars, and the best football players available, before they ever play a meaningful down or attend a college class. Remember, too, that the last time he brought in classes this talented, 2006 and 2007, those athletes accumulated a collective rap sheet of about twenty arrests.)

Ironically, this is how great programs are brought low: hubris. Just ask Bobby Bowden.