There's just something about those revenge of the nerds stories that's so satisfying. Especially for nerds.
I finished reading Moneyball, the book I mentioned a few weeks ago. It's pretty rare for me to whiz through a book that quickly, but this one really kept me interested. I discovered how much I can read just during my travels from place to place. I read this book almost exclusively while on public transportation or while walking.
It's a great story of the how Billy Beane, the General Manager of the Oakland A's, used statistical analysis techniques to make player choices for his team. Choices that allowed the A's, one of the poorest, lowest-payroll teams to compete on par with the richest, highest-payroll teams. A true David and Goliath story.
One would think that, given the amount of money spent in Major League Baseball, careful analysis would already be prevalent in the sport's front offices. One would be wrong.
The book uncovers the reality that baseball is more of a culture than a business in the US. The normal checks and balances for ensuring that sound decisions are made aren't present in the sport. In my estimation, this is because baseball teams don't go out of business if they make poor choices like real world enterprises do.
There is no Darwin in baseball.
Those parts of our culture that are there out of love rather than for economics, like religion and sports, are subject to gross deviations from reality since their existence is guaranteed by tradition. This book shows how this denial can be used to one's advantage just by being smart rather than loving blindly.
I love stories like that.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
So I've been trying to get this blog indexed by search engines. It's nice that a handful of my friends read what I have to say now and then, but I'd be delighted to have a total stranger read it and maybe comment on it. That's what networks are for, right?
I submitted this site to Google (who owns Blogger now), hoping they would be happy to index pages on their own web servers. Asking Google to do anything is like asking Jesus for a favor. Maybe someone is listening, maybe they aren't. They don't talk back. So the only way to know if they've complied with my request is to check and see if my site is listed when I search for myself.
After searching for "Miles Gordon", I found that, although no one has answered my prayers yet, there are a few sites of interest.
Miles Gordon Technologies, U.K. - A website called Binary Dinosaurs showcases computing relics of days past. The funny thing is that my dorky career started around these devices. Does that make me a binary dinosaur?
Miles Gordon of Cornwallis 1848-1951 - An extremely brief biography of some guy even older than me. The only real information about him was that he married a woman 12 years younger than him. Younger women. Hmm. I guess we have two things in common.
Miles Gordon, Social Studies Teacher, Ukiah, CA - A PLO-loving fellow who wishes to spread hatred of America and Israel through public school channels.
Miles Gordon, VP of Education, New York Natural History Museum - Now that's more like it.
It looks like some further search engine research is called for on my part. Maybe soon I will be able to join the ranks of these fine folks. Pray for me.
P.S.
For all of you who love the new sattellite image maps available on Google, check out its cute little cousin: moon.google.com
P.P.S.
I read that Google isn't inclined to index sites, even on its own Blogger system, that have weak ranking potential. So I tried putting a hyperlink to this blog on my Lyricsbeat.com website which has a 5/10 Google page rank (pretty high). That should give this blog some Google-cred. We'll see.
I submitted this site to Google (who owns Blogger now), hoping they would be happy to index pages on their own web servers. Asking Google to do anything is like asking Jesus for a favor. Maybe someone is listening, maybe they aren't. They don't talk back. So the only way to know if they've complied with my request is to check and see if my site is listed when I search for myself.
After searching for "Miles Gordon", I found that, although no one has answered my prayers yet, there are a few sites of interest.
Miles Gordon Technologies, U.K. - A website called Binary Dinosaurs showcases computing relics of days past. The funny thing is that my dorky career started around these devices. Does that make me a binary dinosaur?
Miles Gordon of Cornwallis 1848-1951 - An extremely brief biography of some guy even older than me. The only real information about him was that he married a woman 12 years younger than him. Younger women. Hmm. I guess we have two things in common.
Miles Gordon, Social Studies Teacher, Ukiah, CA - A PLO-loving fellow who wishes to spread hatred of America and Israel through public school channels.
Miles Gordon, VP of Education, New York Natural History Museum - Now that's more like it.
It looks like some further search engine research is called for on my part. Maybe soon I will be able to join the ranks of these fine folks. Pray for me.
P.S.
For all of you who love the new sattellite image maps available on Google, check out its cute little cousin: moon.google.com
P.P.S.
I read that Google isn't inclined to index sites, even on its own Blogger system, that have weak ranking potential. So I tried putting a hyperlink to this blog on my Lyricsbeat.com website which has a 5/10 Google page rank (pretty high). That should give this blog some Google-cred. We'll see.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Dairy
Sometimes we think we have beaten an affliction, and we haven't.
My battle with dairy products started in my early twenties. I didn't know what was causing me to feel so sick so frequently, and the problem gradually got worse over a couple of years until I finally surrendered to the notion that lactose is not my friend.
Every now and then, a thought pops into my head that maybe I was mistaken about my handicap or that maybe it's the type of thing that subsides over time, and maybe I'm being too careful about food unnecessarily. Usually what happens is that I start pushing the envelope.
Put some butter on my bread.. Ok that had no effect. Cool.
Have a tiny bite of ice cream.. I survived.
Ok. Just give me the full salmon-bathed-in-cream-sauce dinner. I'm impervious!
Smack! Slap! Bif!
No, Miles.. still afflicted... dumb ass.
Nothing wrong with a little optimism. Until it hurts a lot. Ugh.
My battle with dairy products started in my early twenties. I didn't know what was causing me to feel so sick so frequently, and the problem gradually got worse over a couple of years until I finally surrendered to the notion that lactose is not my friend.
Every now and then, a thought pops into my head that maybe I was mistaken about my handicap or that maybe it's the type of thing that subsides over time, and maybe I'm being too careful about food unnecessarily. Usually what happens is that I start pushing the envelope.
Put some butter on my bread.. Ok that had no effect. Cool.
Have a tiny bite of ice cream.. I survived.
Ok. Just give me the full salmon-bathed-in-cream-sauce dinner. I'm impervious!
Smack! Slap! Bif!
No, Miles.. still afflicted... dumb ass.
Nothing wrong with a little optimism. Until it hurts a lot. Ugh.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Beck
Ah Beck.. Who doesn't love Beck.. He's so creative and fearless.. a great thinking man's rockstar.
So I saw him at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium last night. I had never been there before. Today I can say that the venue has now been added to my list of places I'd just assume not see any artist, no matter how good he or she is. The evening seemed to be a great experiment in how many people you could pack into an already huge space. Since we arrived merely on-time to see Beck (i.e. 2 hours after the show's first act started), we were relegated either to the far back of the flat arena space, or up in the sidemost nosebleeds. We chose the latter. That view allowed one to look down upon the lucky (or perhaps dedicated) masses who managed to stake themselves a 12"x12" claim of the concrete floor with too little room to stand much less dance. (Moo!)
I always wonder, in those scenarios, whether the artist has any control over (or cares about) the extent to which they pack a venue to the detriment of the fans. If any artist has ever said, "Hey man I'm [rockstar name here], and I won't play this place unless you cut down the ticket sales by at least 20%."
I'm not so naive that I don't realize that reducing the supply of tickets for such a popular performance would merely drive up the ticket prices and only allow the priviledged to gain entry. However, I just don't think there is any priviledge to seeing a show under those conditions.
In addition to the tight squeeze, venues this size tend to have trouble making the music sound very good. No matter how much money they pour into using the very best festival sound systems available, the concrete echoes just made it sound like a high school dance to me.
As much as I love Beck, and thought he and his band put on a great show, I still didn't feel like the experience was worth nearly what I've seen other less-popular artists do at much smaller venues. It's the price of fame I suppose. It's ironic that the artists working the hardest to bring their huge talents to the most people end up putting on shows that are arguably not worth seeing.
My advice to every artist that wants me to buy a ticket: Don't play any venue larger than The Fillmore.
So I saw him at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium last night. I had never been there before. Today I can say that the venue has now been added to my list of places I'd just assume not see any artist, no matter how good he or she is. The evening seemed to be a great experiment in how many people you could pack into an already huge space. Since we arrived merely on-time to see Beck (i.e. 2 hours after the show's first act started), we were relegated either to the far back of the flat arena space, or up in the sidemost nosebleeds. We chose the latter. That view allowed one to look down upon the lucky (or perhaps dedicated) masses who managed to stake themselves a 12"x12" claim of the concrete floor with too little room to stand much less dance. (Moo!)
I always wonder, in those scenarios, whether the artist has any control over (or cares about) the extent to which they pack a venue to the detriment of the fans. If any artist has ever said, "Hey man I'm [rockstar name here], and I won't play this place unless you cut down the ticket sales by at least 20%."
I'm not so naive that I don't realize that reducing the supply of tickets for such a popular performance would merely drive up the ticket prices and only allow the priviledged to gain entry. However, I just don't think there is any priviledge to seeing a show under those conditions.
In addition to the tight squeeze, venues this size tend to have trouble making the music sound very good. No matter how much money they pour into using the very best festival sound systems available, the concrete echoes just made it sound like a high school dance to me.
As much as I love Beck, and thought he and his band put on a great show, I still didn't feel like the experience was worth nearly what I've seen other less-popular artists do at much smaller venues. It's the price of fame I suppose. It's ironic that the artists working the hardest to bring their huge talents to the most people end up putting on shows that are arguably not worth seeing.
My advice to every artist that wants me to buy a ticket: Don't play any venue larger than The Fillmore.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Ring
Today while I was working in the City Hall offices, there were a couple of people up from MUNI talking business with a nearby coworker. Then I heard my cell phone ring and did that quick-look-around-for-where-my-phone-is move but quickly realized that it wasn't my phone. The MUNI person had the same goofy song as their ring tone as I do.
Somehow I never get sick of this tone. I like it. It makes me want to do a little dance every time someone calls me. Sometimes I let the phone ring longer than I would otherwise, just to enjoy it.
Even though, realistically, we both had only 10 or 15 different tones to choose from on our phones, I immediately felt a sense of camaraderie with her and felt like alerting her to this little piece of our lives we both shared unknowingly. Obviously, doing so would make me a weirdo, so I refrained. But how funny.. those little overlaps.
Somehow I never get sick of this tone. I like it. It makes me want to do a little dance every time someone calls me. Sometimes I let the phone ring longer than I would otherwise, just to enjoy it.
Even though, realistically, we both had only 10 or 15 different tones to choose from on our phones, I immediately felt a sense of camaraderie with her and felt like alerting her to this little piece of our lives we both shared unknowingly. Obviously, doing so would make me a weirdo, so I refrained. But how funny.. those little overlaps.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Baseball
I like to read the free weekly papers during my lunch break. Some of the writers are at least entertaining, if not entirely agreeable to me.
This week's cover story in the SF Weekly is about some controversy surrounding the book, Moneyball. It's a pretty interesting story about a new way of managing a baseball team using statistical analysis, but the magazine article mainly focuses on Joe Morgan, who is a spirited opponent of the book and its ideas.
The article spends quite a number of words painting Morgan like a total idiot, which may or may not be deserved. It smells like a revenge piece to me. But it got me thinking about the two sides of the controversy - at least as well as I could think about it without actually reading the book (yet).
The book is about using a series of mathematical techniques to place a money value on players' skills in a fashion historically more suited to valuing financial securities. It's a very scientific method, and, arguably, seems to have had some success with the Oakland A's in recent years. This is in stark contrast to the age old method of valuing people based primarily on popularity and egotistical opinion.
The part that interests me is that, although baseball is a competitive sport that places a great deal of importance on winning, it is also a game that people love for other, less quantitative reasons such as family entertainment, excitement, loyalty, etc.
It strikes me that, in these times when science and money can influence the outcomes of many sports, America is beginning to lose sight of the reasons why people play games in the first place. Is our national pastime having fun or winning at all costs? And why attempt to be entertained by sports that aren't about having fun? It seems a little like watching a stock ticker for casual enjoyment.
This week's cover story in the SF Weekly is about some controversy surrounding the book, Moneyball. It's a pretty interesting story about a new way of managing a baseball team using statistical analysis, but the magazine article mainly focuses on Joe Morgan, who is a spirited opponent of the book and its ideas.
The article spends quite a number of words painting Morgan like a total idiot, which may or may not be deserved. It smells like a revenge piece to me. But it got me thinking about the two sides of the controversy - at least as well as I could think about it without actually reading the book (yet).
The book is about using a series of mathematical techniques to place a money value on players' skills in a fashion historically more suited to valuing financial securities. It's a very scientific method, and, arguably, seems to have had some success with the Oakland A's in recent years. This is in stark contrast to the age old method of valuing people based primarily on popularity and egotistical opinion.
The part that interests me is that, although baseball is a competitive sport that places a great deal of importance on winning, it is also a game that people love for other, less quantitative reasons such as family entertainment, excitement, loyalty, etc.
It strikes me that, in these times when science and money can influence the outcomes of many sports, America is beginning to lose sight of the reasons why people play games in the first place. Is our national pastime having fun or winning at all costs? And why attempt to be entertained by sports that aren't about having fun? It seems a little like watching a stock ticker for casual enjoyment.
Tennis
Tennis anyone?
Monica comes from a tennis family and was kind enough to give me my first tennis lesson yesterday in the park. We've been trying to find common exercise activities we both enjoy and this looks like a good one, especially on a nice day like yesterday. Turns out I'm quite the natural. Look out Williams sisters.
Monica comes from a tennis family and was kind enough to give me my first tennis lesson yesterday in the park. We've been trying to find common exercise activities we both enjoy and this looks like a good one, especially on a nice day like yesterday. Turns out I'm quite the natural. Look out Williams sisters.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Twang
I have to comment on a band I've seen a couple of times at Bender's in The Mission. It's called Hud, I think. It's really more of a bunch of worn-out looking folks twanging about with music that sounds something like a decades-old scratchy blues record from somewhere out of the Deep South. One of them plays a bucket bass, a hilarious, primitive instrument made of a bucket, a broomstick, and a piece of rope, which looks like something a street musician might try to raise tips with. Another plays a washboard, the drummer bangs on a single snare drum, and the lead singer, a tall good looking guy that could have walked right out of the 50's, plays an old dented metal gee-tar.
The first time I walked into the bar and heard them, I thought they were the juke box. Such an impressive sound from such a motley little bunch.
I recommend checking them out while they're still inclined to play there at Bender's every Wednesday night for free - or to play at all.
The first time I walked into the bar and heard them, I thought they were the juke box. Such an impressive sound from such a motley little bunch.
I recommend checking them out while they're still inclined to play there at Bender's every Wednesday night for free - or to play at all.
Springs
Monica and I went up to Lake Tahoe for the 4th of July weekend to do some camping with friends and see some sights. As much as I try to avoid crowds whenever possible, there weren't any nightmare jam ups and the weather was gorgeous.
We got a chance to check out Sierra Hot Springs in Sierraville about a half hour north of Truckee. Since it's a sister resort to Harbin Hot Springs, we just had to pay it a visit.
It's a quirky little place tucked in the hills overlooking a beautiful valley with cattle and views of pine tree mountains.
Not quite the Harbin experience, but nice to soak in some natural spring water and get some good sunbathing in after camping in the dirt for a couple of days.
We got a chance to check out Sierra Hot Springs in Sierraville about a half hour north of Truckee. Since it's a sister resort to Harbin Hot Springs, we just had to pay it a visit.
It's a quirky little place tucked in the hills overlooking a beautiful valley with cattle and views of pine tree mountains.
Not quite the Harbin experience, but nice to soak in some natural spring water and get some good sunbathing in after camping in the dirt for a couple of days.
Kurt
I found a tenant! And a dream tenant at that. After dropping the rent on the place systematically until I found the "market" rate, I got a good number of emails with interested parties. I was really dreading the hour and a half round trip drives to Santa Clara to let who-knows-how-many people peek in and say "cool, thanks". Somehow, I lucked out and met Kurt the very first time down. Kurt is an extremely well qualified tenant using my place as his second home for business.
After scrambling to get all the screening and legal mumbo jumbo in order, we both signed a lease on Tuesday night.
All of the ducks are in a row and he's all moved in. What a load off my mind!
Bring on the next property!
After scrambling to get all the screening and legal mumbo jumbo in order, we both signed a lease on Tuesday night.
All of the ducks are in a row and he's all moved in. What a load off my mind!
Bring on the next property!
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