You’re on the edge of your seat at home, watching the 3rd game of the World Series. The players are tense and nervous, since there’s a lot riding on this game. At times, you wonder if you’re more nervous than the players!
Here’s the windup, and here’s the pitch: STEEEEE-RIKE!
But everyone at home also saw that same pitch, and then video analysis clearly showed that it was a ball.
The roar of the crowd is deafening, but on couches around the world, fans are yelling for a different reason. They're armed with high-definition replays, showing the pitch from every possible angle.
The undeniable reality is that the ball never crossed the plate.
The digital strike zone, now a mainstay of modern broadcasts, illuminates the error in glaring neon. A pivotal moment in the most significant series of the baseball season, potentially altered by human error.
I’ve pondered the intersection of technology and sports for a long time, and so I was excited when I found a compelling article discussing this concept from a different angle.
One really cool thing about being so active on Substack has been getting to know the work of some excellent writers.
is one such author, and his piece entitled Why AI Can't Make Human Creativity Obsolete is worth reading.In essence, Alberto discusses how we still admire creativity, especially with regard to art and sporting contests. Contrary to popular belief, AI does not seem to be a real threat to these endeavors. People really appreciate the human condition we’re all born with, and it’s impressive when we see athletic feats within this limitation, or even mental feats (like humans on Jeopardy answering all sorts of questions).
However, it made me wonder: what’s the low-hanging fruit here, where we might be willing to swap out human judgment in favor of the unwavering precision of AI? In arenas where the beauty lies in human endeavor, performance, or creativity, perhaps there are elements where we’d prefer to avoid that human touch.
These elements, when automated, could enhance our appreciation of the human effort rather than diminish it.
Baseball is all about the athleticism and strategy of the players and coaches. We celebrate them because they can hit a ball moving faster than we can fathom, and because they rely on mental toughness and resilience to get through the game.
But the role of the umpire? It's a necessary one, ensuring the rules are adhered to. The ultimate goal of having players on the field is to let them be human. Is the ultimate goal of an umpire to also be as human as possible? Is their merit tied to their human fallibility?
It’s possible to make the argument that the very randomness—the fallibility—of a human umpire makes baseball all that more exciting. This seems like a very weak argument, though, and both tennis and soccer (football for my non-US friends) have employed things like VAR (Video Assistant Referee) and Hawk-Eye. They seem to agree with this take.
It seems as though the important thing to preserve is the contest, not the scoring.
What’s This Like?
I think this is an awful lot using a stopwatch for the 100-meter race in the Olympics. Just as a few millimeters might make a difference in a baseball pitch, a few hundredths of a second might make the difference between Usain Bolt winning gold, and not placing at all.
It’s a lot like Ken Jennings not only hosting Jeopardy, but also having to look up any answers (well, questions, really) in real time. “And that’s it for today’s Jeopardy, folks! We only had time for 3 questions.” No, the Ken Jenningses of the world should remain hosts and players, and as smart as they are, they’re far from Wikipedia.
It’s like writing without spellcheck or grammar check. Seriously, I have had my share of experiences in this realm: I went from a typewriter where mistakes were unforgivable to an electronic typewriter (primitive word processor of sorts). Why anyone would rail against helpful spelling and grammar tips is beyond me, but that’s because I understand what writers bring to the table: ideas worth sharing.
When I write, the clarity of what I’m trying to say is the most important thing for me, but I also want to draw the reader in with interesting language. What I don’t want is a bunch of typos or confusing bits of grammar that sounded much better in my head.
I also don’t want the AI to do the writing for me. As
points out in this conversation with , AI won’t make you a good writer, and I’ve seen more than my share of unfortunate experiments in “letting ChatGPT take the wheel.” LLMs are fantastic for reviewing your work for mistakes, but they’re far from writers... and we humans value this skill highly.The World Series moment I described earlier captures more than just a moment in an important game; it mirrors our broader world, where human fallibility meets the precision of technology.
Whether in sports, art, or any creative endeavor, we're constantly choosing how to integrate technology. My stance is straightforward: if a tool obstructs the essence of the art, it does one of two things.
Either it gets in the way of human creativity, usurping what we hold most dear; or it becomes a different art form, much like photography or hip-hop music arose from more traditional media through new technological innovations.
As we navigate this evolving landscape, my belief stands firm: technology should augment our experiences without overshadowing the essence of human creativity and achievement. Unfortunately, I’ve probably raised just as many questions as I’ve answered, underscoring how complicated and difficult this challenge is.
Help me think about this a bit by commenting here, or just by having conversations with the people around you. The world is changing quickly, and we need all brains on deck!
Great essay. For those interested in why AI won't replace human authors anytime soon.
1. It doesn't have the social learning we have.
Edem Gold did a great interview with me on the topic just published today.
https://edemgold.substack.com/p/how-does-ai-impact-fiction-writing
Andrew, this is a great post. I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, my nails still grate my desk when I think of the two ridiculous pass interference calls that kept my 49ers from going to the 1983 Super Bowl. The legendary and class Art Monk was the benefit of some home cooking. It's almost impossible not to want to get calls right -- this has both benefited my teams and hurt them. Yet something about sports seems antiseptic these days. I remember reading the sports page during my quick breakfasts before school. I would memorize a few box scores and then out the door. Today, you have to have quantum computing handy just to understand (+/-) and all the other stats that are meaningful to a super fan, but not so much for me.
You might take a look at one of the 30/30 documentaries about "The Tuck Rule" and the infamous play involving Tom Brady and Charles Woodson. Quite a story.