Fielding Flu

The swine flu, that terrible, dangerous contagion, resulted in my trip to a “summit” in the US being called off. Hence, I could veg out in front of the TV yesterday evening and watch the spread of an even more terrible, dangerous contagion: the fielding flu.

Chennai Super Kings managed to drop four easy catches, and fluff a run-out in a manner that would have embarrassed swine-herds, and yet beat the Deccan Chargers. Kolkata Knight Riders had a similar epidemic today (though with a less happy match-result).

The interesting thing about these drops is that they are not random. If the last few chances that went to hand were dropped, the likelihood that the next chance will be dropped is significantly higher*. Fielding flu spreads through exactly the same mechanism described in my previous post: fielders carry a mental image of a colleague grassing the ball, and the subconscious brings that image into reality.

Paradoxically, a strong team ethos may actually make teams more vulnerable* to this contagion. Players who sincerely identify with each other may carry a more vivid mental image of a friend dropping a catch.
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*this is a testable statistical proposition and a wonderful opportunity for ambitious young cricket statisticians looking to emulate the great Bill James

Dangerous Safety Signs

Bikers on twisty mountain roads should carry mental images of stability and control. They should not carry mental images of spectacular crashes. These images make the rider more likely to crash the bike, yet these are exactly the images that the road sign above is trying to evoke.

This is a simple truth that sports coaches know. A good cricket coach does not tell a batter to not fish outside the off stump. He tells the batter to hit through the line. The subconscious does not work with logical operators like not. It simply brings the mental images it holds into reality.

But the people who design signage for roads don't seem to know this. With tragic consequences...



Seriously, this is a completely testable proposition.

Show amateur pilots video footage of gruesome crashes of planes similar to what they fly. Put them in a flight simulator. Ask them to do complex manouveres. Measure their crash rate. Compare with a control group which was shown footage of smooth, successful flights.

And presto...we now have scientific evidence with which to prosecute the road sign chaps for manslaughter. Or at least save a few lives.

On Leadership

I will admit to a blush of embarrassment at blogging about leadership; on no other topic have so many people expended so many words to say so little.

However, having attended a leadership development workshop recently, the group I was with came up with a compact definition of leadership that feels useful enough to share.

What is the purpose of leadership: to get people to do things that they otherwise would not

What do leaders do: they listen, speak and centre

In this context, “centre” has a specific meaning. It means the psyche is located at the centre of the body. A centred leader is calm and purposeful. Leaders don’t rage or panic, except intentionally.

What I like about this definition is that it is profoundly situational. Good leadership is defined almost entirely by context. I find this situational take on leadership a lot more useful than the definitions in the standard readings.

Consider this much quoted article by John Kotter, which makes a distinction between management and leadership: “management involves planning and budgeting, leadership involves setting direction”.

This is sometimes true. There are situations where the ship is running well, but doesn’t know where to go. In which case, it is important to choose a destination.

There are also many situations when the desired direction is bleeding obvious. The hard part is to actually get the ship to move in that direction. At times like this, the task of leadership is management. The truth is often closer to "amateurs talk strategy, real generals talk logistics".

Walking Lothlorien

Clumpy boots, hiking staff, Strider-style stubble
Limestone cliffs, dry stone walls, the tumult of tumbling water,
Trout hold still against the stream,
Spaniels splash right in;
Pentagenarians sandwich together,
Gates shut on grazing sheep.
Wooded slopes, sun spangled meadows, Numenorean ruins,
Ice cream in the parking lot,
Lothlorien;
Without the ring.



The change in the style of this blog, unfortunate or otherwise, was prompted by a hike along the river Wye in the Peak District



Down Monsal Dale, up Brushfield, past the Priestcliffe Lees, down to Litton Mill, through Miller Dale and Cressbrook, and back up to Monsal Head



Sunshine on the water...naw, John Denver doesn't fit the Tolkienian mood



Magic wrought by the Numenoreans, when Middle-Earth was still young



All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost…
Renewed shall be the sword that was broken,
The crownless shall again be king

Cherokee Medicine

"The Cherokee lands furnished herbs to treat every known illness – until the Europeans came". This claim is from a tourist brochure I came across in North Carolina, still home to the Cherokee Nation.

Herbs to treat every known illness? A strong claim by any standards. Yet I read that claim humbly, respectfully, sympathetically. It is an assertion of Cherokee pride, an assertion worth making after the horrors of native American history. Is there a crime even worse than genocide? The annihilation of an entire civilization?

That respectful, sympathetic moment stuck in memory when I realized that I would never extend the same courtsey to the other sort of Indians, Asian-Indians like myself. This, despite the many terrible things that have been done to us through history.

When a fellow Indian seriously claims that our ancient culture had herbs to treat every known illness (this happens astonishingly often), my irritated instinct is to refer him to Ben Goldacre's excellent book/ blog on Bad Science, and ask to see the data from randomized, double blind, placebo controlled clinical trials.

Why the difference?

I guess I just can't think about India as a Wounded Civilization any more.

Lord of the Rings. At the Racsos

This is to announce a special Racso award for the worst moments in the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy. Brought to you by Moonballs from Planet Earth. 

The nominees are: - Gandalf and Saruman. The fight in Orthanc, when the venerable wizards biffed each other's flowing robes and beards into a terrible tangle - 

The last homely house. Rivendell, with its kitschy soft-focus shots and air-brushed effects, looked like something from a Thomas Kinkade painting - 

The paths of the dead. The avalanche of skulls that nearly trapped Strider, Legolas and Gimli inside the Haunted Mountain. This could have been a solemn moment in an action-packed film - 

Arwen and Aragorn. The kiss on a bridge in Rivendell. Of course, it had to be in soft-focus. Why was this limp love-story promoted from the appendix to the main film? More screen time for Liv Tyler is not reason enough - 

Uruk Hai births. The slime-covered creatures emerging from the breeding pits under Orthanc. Some things are better imagined than seen, even in a film 

And the Racso goes to Gandalf and Saruman biffing it out in Orthanc. Thunderous applause. Nothing can beat Saruman and Gandalf twirling each other around Orthanc for sheer goofiness, especially in a film that clearly cares about production values.

Lord of the Rings. At the Oscars

This is to announce a special Oscar for the best moments in the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy. Brought to you by Moonballs from Planet Earth. The nominees are: - Minas Tirith. The seven-circled white city on a hill, topped with the Tower of Ecthilion glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, whose fighting men wore breastplates wrought with the White Tree of Gondor - Lighting the beacons. The bonfire relay across the snowy mountain-tops that brought the Rohirrim thundering south to fight alongside Gondor - Edoras. The setting for Meduseld, hall of Theoden son of Thengel, Lord of the Mark of Rohan. "Before the mountains of the south: white tipped and streaked with black...a tumbled mountain-mass with one tall peak stood like a sentinel a lonely height...set upon a green terrace, there stands aloft a great hall of men. And it seems to my eyes that it is thatched with gold. The light of it shines far over this land..." - Faramir's charge on Osgiliath. The futile cavalry charge Faramir led on an occupied Osgiliath, while Pippin sang at Lord Denathor's sumptuous lunch - Escape from the mines of Moria. The vaulted, crumbling staircase through flaming nothingness that led the Fellowship to the Bridge of Khazad Dum, where Gandalf battled the Balrog And the Oscar goes to...Faramir's charge on Osgiliath. Thunderous applause. All the nominations, the value-add in going from the book to the movie, are about visualization. The film stayed faithful to Tolkien's words, and yet visualized these scenes with a vividness and beauty that is far beyond my own imagination, even as a committed Tolkien fan. The unsung heroes of the film are probably Alan Lee and John Howe, two artists who have been visualizing scenes from Tolkien for decades, long before this film was even conceived. Peter Jackson had the good sense to collaborate with these outstanding old pros. Faramir's charge on Osgiliath wins the Oscar for being more than visualization. This scene is implied rather than described in the book. The movie takes this raw material, and builds it up into an emotional crescendo so intense that I almost dare not imagine it. By rights, it should have crumbled under its own weight. And yet, it works. Well done. Thanks PJ. Blog readers and Tolkien fans, please do chip in with your own Oscar nominees.