Being on the spot

Having recently moved to a new job, I am one of those lulls where I'm in the process of getting up to speed on the cases that I've been handed - essentially data assimilation - but where I don't have a great many responsibilities, and as yet, I lack the tools (primarily due to technical and software problems) to make forward progress in the few responsibilities that have been assigned to me. Thus, for the first time in several years, I am in a position where almost nothing is dependent upon me and my efforts. This is a nice change of pace in my ongoing career as a professional mercenary, where my daily duties typically affect the ultimate distribution of hundreds of thousands of dollars of other peoples' money.

So, although my new office is considerably smaller than my old, still lacks a couch upon which I might spend my lunch-breaks relaxing, and requires me to be present a full hour earlier than my last office. I am enjoying myself. And that without even having received one of the larger checks which represent my primary motive for relocating. Even for someone like myself - who needs to be on the spot to get over my own intrinsic inertia and laziness - being off the spot can be nice every once in a while.

But I believe that the ability to deal with being on the spot is an excellent character trait, and - having thoughts about it a bit over the weekend - I've reached the conclusion that the best success comes not from being able to shine in the spotlight, but from being consistent in the spotlight.

The general consensus is that the most difficult position in sports is being an NFL quarterback. Personally, I think that NHL goaltenders don't get credit for the shit that they face: imagine a job where every time you make a mistake, a red light goes on over your desk, a 90dB horn sounds, and 20,000 people yell and throw garbage at you. That's the job description. Also, Quarterbacks generally have it in their power to win games; they control the offense, and they are - almost by definition - the ones depended on to come through with the points that will win the game. Goaltenders, by contrast, don't have that ability to win: the best a goaltender can hope for is to not lose. He can keep the puck out of his own net, but he's not going to score any goals for his own team, and unless the guys in front of him can score a goal or three, his own efforts are largely a footnote. Except, that is, in the minds of the fans who blame him for not doing his part in a 2-1 loss.

But in both positions, it seems that solid, consistent performance is better than occasional spectacular play. A goaltender gets help from his defense; while a stud G is the holy grail of team building, 6 solid defensemen go a long ways towards cutting down a team's GAA. A quarterback who can make big plays is certainly a better asset than one who can't, and the ultimate is a QB who can make the big plays while avoiding the big mistakes. (See: Brady, Tom). But even a mediocre QB can win a Superbowl if he can avoid the big mistakes. (See: Dilfer, Trent.) Coaches and coordinators can work around a QB who doesn't have game-breaking skills; you have him hand off a lot, and when he must throw, you run a lot of screens (where the onus is on the receiver and blockers to make the play) and rollouts (where the QB only has to read half of the field before throwing, and can always run out of bounds rather than force a play). A bad QB who is aware of his limitations can still get the job done, and at the very least, can be coached to make fewer mistakes than the hot young stud with the cannon arm on the other sideline.

The problem, as with many other aspects of life, is that people (especially QBs) think they're much better than they actually are, and their egos write checks their abilities can't pay. (See: Grossman, Rex.) They try to force the play, try to play beyond their ability, and end up sacked or picked off. The former is merely unfortunate. The latter is often catastrophic, as turnover ratio is the single greatest indicator of success in the NFL. Example: last season's Baltimore Ravens (13-3) led the league in turnover ratio. This years Baltimore Ravens (4-10) are last in the league. As was stated by Bonaparte, the route to victory is to make fewer mistakes than your opponent.

Returning to QB play: you need a guy who knows what he can and cannot do, and play within his limitations. As an interesting aside, the best statistical indicator of QB success in the NFL is not his NCAA yardage, or completion percentage, or TD throws. The best way to project success is to look at the number of games he STARTED in college. The more games he played, the more he's learned about what he can and cannot do, and the more experience he has doing the things within his abilities. There is an endless list of great talents who came out their JR and SR years to take a run at the NFL. But the greats generally stayed in college for four years before going pro.

To parlay this into team building: often times it is an uphill project, with public sentiment against the organization. Fans and media want teams to draft the sophomore from the SEC who can throw the ball 80 yards, even if he only started 8 games in his college career. They want "upside," not consistency. As an anecdote, Coach Mike Shannahan of the Broncos has taken a lot of flack recently for his team's losing ways. To be perfectly blunt, he deserves a lot of the criticism: he took one of the top defenses in the league and - with a few minor changes - turned them into a bunch that can't stop the run OR the pass. Whoops.

On the other hand, I support fully the decision to drop Jake Plummer for Jay Cutler. Cutler is a solid kid who started 45 games in college (a record for Vandy), and he's going to get better. He's not a guy who can win Superbowls, be he might grow into that guy. Plummer, on the other hand, is done growing, and has always been one of those guys that had high highs, but very low lows. He might win a game for you, but was almost as likely to throw a game away by doing something stupid. The Broncos would NEVER have won the Superbowl with Plummer at the helm, since winning the Superbowl requires at least three consecutive victories in the playoffs. Against playoff teams, there was no realistic chance that Plummer would go three or four contests without suffering a catastrophic meltdown that would cost Denver the game. The goal was a SB title, so Plummer had to go. He had the skills, but not the consistency. Can't justify his gutting of the defense, but Shannahan is doing it right with his offense (except for the historically filthy offensive line play, which I'll not go into right now).

For goaltenders: consistency is - if anything - more important. The scale by which they are judged from a practical perspective is generally not the spectacular saves they make, but the bad goals they give up. If a goalie can keep his focus, stay solid, and avoid errors that end up as pucks in his net, he will do well. Statistics are considered after the fact, but during the game, if a goalie gives up a goal on a great play, it rallies his team around him. "He guys, our keeper is standing on his head out there; we gotta give him some more help." But a goalie who gives up a bad goal loses the trust and support of his teammate. "We limit the other team to long-shots and weak plays, and our keeper STILL can't stop them." Far better to be solid, because that solidity is one of the few things that sets keepers apart.

Even more so than QBs, the difference between a top goaltender and a scrub goaltender is TINY. A hypothetical average G with a middle-of-the-pack defense will start about 40 games per season, and face about 25 shots per game, for a total of 1000 shots. A top-flight goaltender (Hasek, Brodeur, Luongo) will have a season save percentage of about .900, and give up about 2 goal per game. A mediocre goaltender will have a percentage of about .850, and give up 3 goal per game. Do the math: the difference between the best and the scrubs is ONE GOAL PER GAME. The goaltenders who can make that ONE EXTRA SAVE night in and night out win Vezina trophies and go to All Star games. They date models and drive Ferraris. They get enshrined in Tornoto. The guys who can't make that ONE EXTRA SAVE every game get sent to the minors for "conditioning," get labeled as career back-ups, and hear sportswriters in their home cities talk about the upcoming draft, and hot French-Canadian prospects in the QMJHL.

There is certainly no substitute for the ability to shine. But not at the expense of being solid.