Here's an example of a traditional marketer proving with a smart Twitter campaign that social media and sports are a natural fit: Sony Ericsson, one of the long-term sponsors of the World Cup, has turned to Twitter to engage fans months before the World Cup begins. The Twittercup collects and counts fan tweets, creating a competition among attending nations. Since its launch in early December it has received over 43,000 tweets.
“Everything has symmetry when you just leave it where it is,” mathematician Marcus du Sautoy said in his talk at TEDGlobal in Oxford. Attending a TED conference is as asymmetrical an experience as you can imagine: Nothing is left where it is. The combination of riveting ideas and remarkable people you encounter is purportedly designed to disrupt your balance, routines of thinking, self-esteem, beliefs, values — even your sleep. After TED, you’re no longer congruent with your former self: You have seen things you have not seen before, you feel different, and you have been moved. Things have changed, and you know that only true passions cause real change.
After five days of delving into other people’s passions in Oxford, I felt that it was time to celebrate my own: football, a spectacle that combines archaic competition with sublime pleasure. In his scholarly essay “On the Alleged Dehumanization of the Sports Spectator,” Allan Guttmann describes football matches as cathartic events, “saturnalia-like occasions for the uninhibited.” So, on the first evening after TEDGlobal, I took the Jubilee line to London’s Wembley Stadium to see a rather meaningless preseason game between Tottenham Hotspur and a B-team of Europe’s current champions, FC Barcelona.
I’ve always thought — to paraphrase Pascal — that the sole cause of man’s unhappiness is that he does not stay in a football stadium. A football arena is my refuge, my cave, my playing field, my “manspace.” After all the elevation, elusion, and enthrallment at TEDGlobal, I was craving a simple point of reference and a naive familiarity that only a football field can offer. Like a good pop song, it provides something archetypal that is immediately and permanently relevant, a way to look at life, a worldview. Football, like all sports, offers clear rules, and thus, comfort in a world of growing ambiguity. It satisfies the unfulfilled stories of our lives waiting to be resolved, catalyzed, and made sense of — by one single elegant sequence of interactions and passes that lead to the eruptive, collective, and yet so private celebration of a goal.
Football is like theater. It condenses all human emotions, all possible developments of a story onto one big stage that lies at the center of our attention for 90 minutes or more. Football gives its players the power to be the “authors of their own ambition,” as Alain de Botton suggested in Oxford, when he spoke about 21st-century career patterns. De Botton heralded tragedy as a more humane way to embrace failure and posited, “Hamlet lost, but he was not a loser.” Football possesses this appreciation for tragedy, too. Hearts will ache. Promises will be broken. Somebody will lose. But losers they will not be.
The football stadium is a space where the boundaries between player and spectator are still defined, but the distance from idea to implementation, the gap between unseen and seen, is negligible. A football game is a train of thought, a breathless stream of consciousness, but it is also the very act of acting itself. What you see is what you get. Football is “the head and hand united,” in the words of Richard Sennett, or better, the head and foot united. It is an accelerated microcosm of innovation, where the idea is the prototype is the product.
Brazilian footballer Ronaldinho once described it as follows: “What I do, always before a game — always, every night and every day — is try and think up things, imagine plays, which no one else will have thought of, and to do so always bearing in mind the particular strengths of each teammate to whom I am passing the ball. When I construct those plays in my mind, I take into account whether one teammate likes to receive the ball at his feet or ahead of him, if he’s good with his head and how he prefers to head the ball, if he’s stronger on his right or his left foot. That’s my job. That is what I do. I imagine the game.”
Players like Ronaldinho or the uniquely gifted Argentine Lionel Messi are artists, and like artists “they set up expectations of symmetry and break them,” as Marcus du Sautoy put it, “[because] in everything, uniformity is undesirable.” Innovation, which is needed to advance on the pitch, is asymmetrical by its very nature. The whole game of football is one big attempt to break symmetry through imagination and beauty.
At Wembley, my gaze traced the distinct white of the chalk marking the sidelines and penalty areas on the field, the calm before the storm, disturbingly quiet. I studied the goals, as they stood there, monolithic and self-absorbed, fully aware of their power to attract and fulfill that one simple desire. I admired their majestic symmetry that is only destroyed when man, goalie, enters the scene.
Below the main stands, I spotted Pep Guardiola, Barcelona’s coach, who had won all possible trophies with his club last season. And I recalled what TEDGlobal speaker Itay Talgam had said in Oxford about great conductors: They create the “conditions for the process to take place.” This is true for great football coaches, too. They simply enjoy watching and letting go — gaining influence as they embrace the loss of control over time and space, as some of the great players have in rare moments.
Spanish author Javier Marías’ story, “In Uncertain Time,” portrays Hungarian football player Szentkuthy, who, in the final minutes of a critical game rallies forward on his own, shakes off two defenders, and overcomes the goalkeeper. All that is then left to do is to slot the ball into the empty net, but even as the whole stadium rises to respond to the goal, he refuses to shoot. Instead, he advances, and stops the ball right on the goal line. Then, as the goalkeeper and the two defenders come running towards him, “Szentkuthy rolled the ball an inch or so forward and then stopped it again once it was over the goal line.” “He had thwarted imminence,” writes Marías, “and it was not so much that he had stopped time as that he had set a mark on it and made it uncertain, as if he were saying, ‘I am the instigator and it will happen when I say it will happen, not when you want it. If it does happen, it is because I have decided that it should.’” Szentkuthy’s action “pointed out the gulf between what is unavoidable and what has not been avoided, between what is still future and what is already past, between ‘might be’ and ‘was,’ a palpable transition which we only rarely witness.”
I was looking at the lush green of the football pitch that still allowed all possible mathematical configurations, all possible combinations of play. Seeing the unseen, I thought, means the ability to create multiple stories. Like dancers, football players interpret space, each in his own way. Everything is possible because anything is possible. Just as life, unfolding, is inevitable, so it goes with the referee’s first whistle: “It ain’t why, why, why, it just is” (Van Morrison). It simply happens — and afterwards, legions of commentators and analysts will attempt to reconstruct it, explain it, and demystify it, in vain.
As the teams entered the arena, 60,000 fans began chanting. The players occupied their positions — both teams lined up in a 4-4-2 formation, in perfect symmetry, anxious for the action to come. How I wished I could have held this moment of uncertainty a little longer, as Szentkuthy did when he stopped the ball on the goal line. I was thinking of my soon-to-be-born daughter and how her life and mine will be immediately and forever asymmetrical from the very minute she enters the world. I was thinking of the endless array of possibilities ahead of her.
Then the game began. I’d seen the substance of things not seen. Nothing would ever be the same again.
From the upcoming special TEDGlobal design mind issue "The Substance of Things Not Seen," available next week
It's been a while since I last wrote about soccer, and perhaps that lull can be explained by a lackluster soccer season so far, especially in my favorite league, the Spanish Primera Division. The performances of the two top teams, Real Madrid and FC Barcelona (Barca), have been inconsistent, and while both have displayed some exceptional skills in their best matches, the passion, the surprise, and the big drama, all of which crucial elements of soccer's unique appeal, have been largely missing.
There is hope that this will change on Sunday when the two archrivals battle each other for the first time this season, in the derby of derbies, "El Clásico," which is historically loaded with enourmous psychological, cultural, and political significance. Tomorrow's edition is a special of specials: Madrid is leading the table with four points ahead of second-placed Barca, and the upcoming clash, the last game of the first half of the season, can potentially give Real a comfortable seven point cushion over Barca during the winter break.
Innovation is rare
Looking back to the past Clásicos and looking forward to the encounter tomorrow, I have been wondering what can make the difference when two equally star-studded teams compete. I think I have found the answer: innovation. The more innovative team won the past games, and the more innovative team will win tomorrow. This hypothesis is as simple as it is challenging. Soccer is often used as a metaphor to describe innovation in a business context ("meaningful innovation is like scoring a goal in soccer -- it doesn't happen often, but is always a hallmark that differentiates the winning team"). But what does innovation actually mean in soccer?
First of all, if you examine the history of soccer for groundbreaking, "game-changing" innovations, you realize they have been scarce; by and large the game hasn't changed much. Some innovations resulted from a changing of the rules (on the macro-innovation level, if you will). Most of them, however, were truly driven by either organizational or individual excellence: for example, the position of the "Libero," the "sweeper" before the goal-keeper, who, freed from marking a direct opponent, was mandated with opening a team's game from deep in its own territory (German legend Franz Beckenbauer perfected this role in the 70s); the allure of the "playmaker" (personified by the French Michel Platini in the 80s); the introduction of a three-man defense row in the 90s; the "Sweeper-Keeper" performing the defensive actions of a libero; the increased importance of the "6," the central defensive midfielder (you can study tomorrow how elegantly Barcelona's Yaya Toure interprets this role); and the Dutch "Total Football" concept with its fluid, attacking 4-5-1 and 3-2-5 formations.
Total Football
As in business and academia, innovation takes place in soccer on both the collective and individual levels. And it is deeply rooted in culture. Starting in their youth education, great teams establish a distinct style which sets them apart from mediocre ones. Almost always, these styles have been shaped by a city's, a region's, or a nation's history. Ajax Amsterdam and the Dutch school of "Total Football," considered by many to be the most sophisticated and most influential soccer philosophy in recent times, can be traced back to historical, geographical, and socio-cultural factors, as can the Dutch refusal to win the "big one" (the Netherlands’ national team never won a final at any of the international championships), as told by the book "Brilliant Orange." Total Football was the first multi-disciplinary approach to playing soccer and implied that all players can play in all positions and have comparable levels of fitness, technical ability, and awareness. It is focused on the creation of space on offense and the destruction of space on defense. The result is maximum flexibility, a strong element of surprise, and the ability to exert pressure on any of the opponent’s moves, at any time during the game. Besides Ajax, a number of British clubs including Arsenal London and Manchester United have embraced and refined Total Football, and so has FC Barcelona, with its strong tradition of Dutch coaches and players.
In stark contrast, the so-called "catenaccio" (literally translated, "door-bolt"), a rather static, defensive-minded tactic, is the hallmark of most Italian clubs. Some contend this goes all the way back to the Roman Empire and its poise to defend its borders, but I'm not sure if I buy into this explanation: even the Roman Empire, in order to become an empire, had to conquer territory first, no? In any case, the point is that soccer tactics and styles, and herein lies one parallel to business innovation, are inexorably linked to culture (to learn more about the cultural -- and religious -- underpinnings of soccer, read "How Soccer Explains the World" by Franklin Foer).
Wanted: Entrepreneurs
And yet, only a few soccer pundits would dispute that the most critical innovation in soccer occurs on the individual level. While some herald the "star is the team" philosophy and praise the power of the collective, it is more plausible to uphold the "whole is more than the sum of its parts" argument precisely because some of the parts, that is, certain individuals, are better than others. Although there are attempts underway to "crowd-source" soccer, the difference between win and loss is still marked by the quality of individuals -- players, coaches, and, not to forget, referees.
Players and coaches are chased with tons of cash not merely because they are stars who are able to turn the game into a spectacle and thus add invaluable charisma and entertainment to a club's brand, but also because their individual decisions, be they strategic (coach) or opportunistic (player), decide over fortune and misfortune. Both coach and player are risk-taking entrepreneurs, and the more creativity they exhibit, the more freedom they're typically given. Ironically, buying risk-takers is a measure for clubs to minimize risk and manage the inherent volatility of their success. The impact of coach and player is significant but their tools of influence are somewhat different. In the long-term, the coach can create a competitive culture that propels creativity and innovation, build confidence and team spirit; on the immediate match level, he can alter the formation and line-up, and make adjustments and substitutions during the game. But can his genius or lucky hand re-invent a team or truly innovate the game?
Ultimately, the most visible and arguably most impactful innovation lies in the feet of the players. Notwithstanding the team's culture, strategic formation, and tactical fitness, innovation on a micro-level is still the biggest competitive advantage, and it is engrained in soccer's DNA: Paul B. Paulus and Bernard Arjan Nijstad argue in their book "Group Creativity: Innovation Through Collaboration" that soccer offers more opportunities for creativity and innovation than baseball and other U.S. sports because the team's task is more "hierarchical, less sequential, and less cyclical." Furthermore, soccer players can innovate their game in every game. Here's what Barcelona's Ronaldinho, FIFA World Player of the Year in 2004 and 2005 and the most marketable player in the world, generating $57.8m annually, says: "The important thing is to keep on innovating and finding a way to surprise. You always look to surprise, with dribbling, a new move, a new pass. (…) As long as I believe I have the creativity for that, that's what I'll try and do. I'm never going to lose my characteristics because that's what I know how to do. I want to mix everything that is innovative with the same things as always. Perhaps the fans expect me to do all the tricks, the opponents as well. If you don't innovate, they all take the ball away from you. I believe it's important to innovate in order to avoid repetition."
Playtime
When El Clásico kicks off tomorrow, keep all that in mind. Admire the poetic and sometimes melancholic Total Football of Barca, and respect the prosaic, rather efficient style of Real Madrid. And watch how a few players will decide the game. Soccer can be researched, carefully planned, and strategically devised -- however, the most beautiful thing about this "beautiful game" is the fact that there is no lag between idea and implementation. Creativity can be immediately applied and has to be found on the pitch again and again. Every match is a blank slate. There is no history, only anticipation. Nothing is ever the same. This is what business leaders can learn from soccer: Innovation is, literally, a "play," and the best players will win.
1. I became a frog
1. Zidane’s headbutt: The fall and rise of an icon
2. Barcelona-Arsenal London 2-1, Champions League Final: Winning is believing
3. Germany-Argentina, Soccer Worldcup semi-final: Primal scream
4. I became an uncle, or the birth of Eden: What a small world!
5. El Careyes Resort, Mexico: The wedding of my friends Nav and Ryan, many new friends, and an important decision
6. All Stuttgart games on GolTV: Closer to home
7. Africa: Everyone is tired of yet another celebrity trip but -- you know what – the newfound trendiness has brought the continent back to our attention, including mine. “Misery Chic,” as the New York Times Magazine becried it, means “Misery Awareness.”
8. I survived more than 100,000 miles of air travel
9. The Weepies: “Riga Girls”
10. Waterball with Martin in Sebastopol
Germany lost today’s World Cup semi-final against Italy in the last minute of the extra time, and I’m still in shock. Yet I’ve learned from former pivotal soccer defeats that you have to ‘enjoy’ the sad moments of loss as much as you do sweet victories. The key is that you find a new playing field for all the emotions invested. Nothing’s better at consolation than beauty.
So I went to Borders and bought a bunch of fashion, architecture, and design magazines, and then went to see “The Devil Wears Prada,” based on Lauren Weisberger’s fairy-tale scoop on the Vogue universe. Gosh, Anne Hathaway really has potential to be the new Audrey Hepburn! I’m feeling better already.
