Thursday, August 13, 2015

Hall of Fame Voter Turnout Is About to Hit a Historic Low—But How Low?

Low turnout is usually a bad thing, but not when it comes to the Hall of Fame. Last year, 549 people voted in that particular election—and it was too many. Those 549 included sportswriters and retirees who hadn't covered baseball in years, decades even—people who have barely seen the great players of this century play, and people who know nothing of the gigantic strides we've made in just the last 10–15 years in how we evaluate players' value. Those people had no business voting for the Hall of Fame in 2015. Thankfully, as of 2016, they won't be eligible to—meaning turnout is about to sink even lower. Yay!

The total number of votes cast is something every Hall of Fame watcher should care about. Why? A lower turnout means a lower denominator from which to calculate how many votes (75% of the total number cast) are sufficient to open the gates to Cooperstown. Recently, with years of very level, predictable turnout (573, 569, 571, and 549 voters the last four years), it's been a pretty safe bet that a player needs well over 400 writers on his side. But the Hall of Fame's new eligibility rules have changed the game: no one knows how many voters will be left to still cast ballots. Will 384 votes (the number Mike Piazza got in 2015) be enough to clear 75%? Will 306 (Jeff Bagwell)? Will 302 (Tim Raines)?

Let's flip over the napkin and do some math. According to various reports, last year there were approximately 650 BBWAA members eligible to vote for the Hall of Fame. To use election lingo, let's call them registered voters.

Of these, about 570 regularly cast ballots (there was a slight dip to 549 voters in 2015, but so far that looks like an outlier in otherwise very steady data). In politics, they'd be called likely voters. That leaves about 80 writers who, for one reason or another, appear to always abstain from voting. We'll call them unlikely voters. Under unchanged circumstances, we'd expect 570 votes to be cast in 2016 (88% turnout), since that is the number of likely voters who usually turn out.

Then last month happened. Countless registered voters were purged from the rolls. The Chicago Tribune actually asked the secretary/treasurer of the BBWAA, who revealed that the Hall of Fame's new guidelines would exclude 20% of the previous electorate, or 130 people. So we know that the number of registered voters will be down to about 520 next year.

What we don't know is how many of those purged 130 were likely voters and how many were unlikely voters. This is where we have to resort to (educated) guesswork.

I believe it is reasonable to assume that a disproportionate number of the purged were unlikely voters. For all of the grumbling about old-timey know-nothings who ruin the Hall of Fame process by voting for Tim Raines and Alan Trammell and nobody else, I'm sure that a lot of retired baseball writers simply don't vote. Maybe they don't feel qualified to anymore; maybe they saw voting as part of their old job but now see that part of their life as behind them. Maybe they used to be proud to vote for the Hall—a combination of democracy and baseball that once made America great!—but are now boycotting it because steroids and spreadsheets have destroyed baseball forever. Maybe they just don't know they're still allowed to vote.

However, we know for a fact that some of the unlikely voters are still-active baseball writers who will continue to be eligible to vote. The New York Times, Washington Post, Los Angeles Times, Baltimore Sun, and Atlanta Journal-Constitution all do not allow their beat writers to vote for the Hall of Fame. Every year, you also have some writers announcing that they are purposefully abstaining from voting—usually as a protest, or because it has become too hard to decide.

Let's estimate that there are about three registered but unlikely voters at each newspaper that doesn't allow its writers to vote. The five I mentioned are the best known, but we're probably missing a couple smaller papers that also muzzle their writers. Let's round up and say 20 still-active baseball writers are unlikely for this reason.

We also know at least four writers abstained last year (Lynn Henning, Buster Olney, Tim Brown, and Bob Brookover). Presumably, a few other writers also do this every year, either on purpose or by accident. (Some people probably just forget to mail the ballot in by the deadline.) Let's say that 10 still-active baseball writers are unlikely for this reason.

So my best estimate is that 30 of the 80 unlikely voters are writers who will still retain the right to vote for the Hall in 2016. If so, that would mean 50 of the unlikely voters are retired and were just declared ineligible. That, in turn, means that 80 of the newly ineligible voters were, through 2015, regular Hall of Fame voters (130 total purged voters minus 50 purged unlikely voters equals 80 purged likely voters). Subtract them from the universe of 570 likely voters, and you're left with 490 likely voters for 2016.

2016 Universe Lower Bound Best Guess Upper Bound
Registered Voters 520520520
Likely Voters 440490510
Unlikely Voters 803010

Provisionally, I predict that 490 ballots will be cast in the 2016 Hall of Fame election—the fewest since 2002. The figure will almost certainly fall between 440 and 510. If my best guess is right, it would represent 94% turnout (490/520), significantly higher than in recent years.

The first rule of elections is that a different electorate leads to different results. With fewer old-school voters getting ballot access and the threshold for election being lowered to just 368 votes (again, if my best guess turns out to be accurate), the path to victory for a lot of sabermetric favorites becomes more clear. According to my calculations, "public" ballots (those released before the election results as a whole are announced) are far more likely to include names like Bagwell, Piazza, and especially Raines—as well as the names of more long-shot candidates like Curt Schilling, Barry Bonds, and Mike Mussina. It's widely thought that older-school voters or voters who are now retired are less likely to reveal their ballots, so the voter purge could have the effect of giving less weight to private ballots, which tend to be more conservative. (However, it's impossible to draw a straight line from one to the other, as we know that some now-purged voters have publicized their ballots in the past, just as we know that a great many ballots that remain private belong to still-active writers.) Hopefully, making sure that only the most qualified baseball writers vote will ensure that the most qualified players get elected.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Don't Force Your Narratives onto Boston's Losing the Olympics

I was never a fan of my hometown of Boston hosting the Olympics. The Games have a nasty habit of bankrupting their host governments, a lot of the infrastructure outlays don't have long-term benefits, and a bid would have subjected the already-cramped city to a decade of construction. (Plus, the Olympics are kinda dumb.) Apparently many Bostonians felt the same way, as Boston 2024's low polling numbers eventually helped sink the city's bid for good this week. To anyone who lives in Boston and cares about the future of the region, it was just a question of what was good public policy—plain and simple.

How wrong we were, apparently. I had no idea that, instead of trying to spend public money responsibly, we were really fighting special interests on behalf of the common man! And I feel pretty silly now that I've been informed that my opposition to the Olympics was my small-mindedness shooting the city in the foot! That is, at least if you listen to the particularly egregious spin coming out of the anti- and pro-Olympics camps, respectively, post-bid-withdrawal.

I get that some degree of spin is necessary; winners gonna gloat, and haters gonna hate. But these two narratives have nothing to do with the actual matter of public policy before us: the Olympic Games. They've been grafted onto the real financial and infrastructural issues at hand about as gracefully as Mr. Burns was sewn onto Homer. As the Olympics became more and more contentious in Boston this year, both sides were guilty of turning the debate into a process-based one. Rather than the question of whether it was good policy for Boston to host the Olympics, it became a referendum on the bidders themselves. And now that a decision has been made to stop seeking the Games, both sides continue to embarrass themselves by missing the point.

Let's start with the victors: those who sought to kill the Boston Olympics have touted the decision as a victory for their grassroots organization. It is conclusive proof, they say, that an inspired citizenry can successfully stand up to the big-moneyed special interests; we should all rejoice, they insist, that we stopped corporate elites from lining their pockets with that sweet Olympics cash from their rich friends. (A real sentence from the Boston Magazine article linked above: "The people of Boston, armed only with shoestring budgets and broken public records laws, stood up to the IOC, an organization as contemptible and endlessly wealthy as FIFA." Das Kapital is less rabble-rousing.) Poppycock. Elites run Boston, and they always have. The Olympics failed mostly because two key elites—Mayor Marty Walsh and Governor Charlie Baker—were not fully on board with the plan. And the cause for celebration isn't the fact alone that we defeated a "Goliath" of an enemy; it's that we avoided the headaches that places like London and Rio have suffered as they paid for and built their Olympic infrastructure.

The sore losers, meanwhile, have fallen back on an old chestnut: Boston is a provincial backwater that will never become the worldly city it deserves without the validation that the Olympic Games provide—and our snobbish, insular tendencies have now kept our city from real progress onto the world stage. It's a shameful logical fallacy that exploits one of Boston's deepest-held insecurities about itself: its inferiority complex. "Move in my direction, or else stay a small-time small town. WWNYD?" (What would New York do?) It's a false choice, and both halves are equally specious. First, of course, not all movement is progress. Boston 2024 proponents would have you believe the only path to improving the city—the only path to globalizing Boston—lies in hosting an extraordinarily expensive sporting event. But instead of investing in something frivolous like sports, we could design a master plan that spends sensibly on transportation, infrastructure, housing, education, and more. There are lots of ways we can reshape the city that aren't the Olympic way, and, in my opinion, it may well be smarter to do it differently. (This is why we need to have a conversation about the actual policy issues rather than get into this shouting match.) But instead the pro-Olympics crowd frames it so that they can yell "Provincialism!" if you don't go along with their plan.

Which takes me to the second specious half: accepting the premise that Boston is indeed an unworldly, small-time backwater. Boston of today may not be New York, but it has thrived as a center of the new knowledge-based economy, with world-class medical, educational, and technological institutions. We should always strive to improve our city, but at this rate, only a few course corrections are needed, not a massive reimagination of Boston's entire essence. The city should be proud of where it is. One particularly ignorant tweet complained about "NOlympics" in the same breath as Boston's supposed other stubborn refusals to modernize: "CasiNO" (Massachusetts will make millions of dollars in revenue after passing a 2011 law that will soon open three casinos and a slot parlor throughout the state), "Late night public transportatioNO" (responding to a longtime rider complaint, the MBTA began offering late-night bus and subway service over a year ago), and "Modern liquor/vice legislatioNO" (marijuana is decriminalized in Massachusetts, and there's a decent chance it gets fully legalized via a 2016 ballot measure). The region is not, by any definition of the word, "stagnant," as the New York Times suggested was a possibility.

So Boston 2024's argument ended up resting on the idea that Boston is a parochial hamlet, and pulling us away from that fate was the real issue, no matter the cost. And to No Boston Olympics, the real issue became stopping private interests from turning a profit on the backs of unwilling constituents. For each side, that was probably the easiest way to justify what they wanted. But it got to the point where these arguments were offered basically to the exclusion of the real real issues that made people support or oppose the Olympics in the first place: the best ways to build new infrastructure, the best ways to spend money, the best ways to market the city. As in so many other instances, the facts and informed debate took a backseat to building a neat little narrative that's less complicated for emotional minds to understand. In the end, Boston 2024 and No Boston Olympics were more alike than either would care to admit; they both tried to make this debate something it never should have been. Sadly, they succeeded.

Monday, July 13, 2015

A Different Way to Poll on Baseball

Shortly after I wrote last week's post—in which I used polls to calculate how popular each MLB team is—the annual Harris Poll on baseball was released—in which Harris polled the nation on how popular each MLB team is. Although our methodologies are different, Harris provides a great way to double-check my project.

According to the Harris Poll:
"...the New York Yankees continue the more-than-decade-long winning streak they’ve been on since 2003, coming in once again as 'America’s Favorite.' Another repeat – in this case one we’ve been seeing since 2009 – is longtime Yankees rival the Boston Red Sox coming in at no. 2 once again. Moving up one spot to no. 3 are the Chicago Cubs."
That's in pretty good agreement with my calculations, with one notable exception. My method (aggregating Public Policy Polling surveys of baseball fandom in 35 states) found that the Atlanta Braves were comfortably the most popular team in the US, with 22,573,607 fans, followed by the Red Sox at 17,749,160, Cubs at 17,504,648, and Yankees at 14,793,886. However, my analysis suffers greatly from the fact that New York is not one of the 35 states we have data for, so Harris is very probably right that the Yankees have more fans than the Red Sox and Cubs.

But what about the Braves? That's the truly glaring discrepancy between our counts. In the Harris Poll, the Braves are all the way down in sixth place—although until last year they had never performed worse than third in the annual poll. I'll blame both Harris and myself for this disagreement. I think Harris probably ought to smooth their data a bit more over years, since historically the Braves are clearly closer to America's favorite team than they are to fifth runner-up. But I may also be giving too much credit to the huge bloc of potential fans that is the American South. In the South, less of the population are baseball fans than in other regions; we know this anecdotally (merely whisper the words "college football" and the region will throw a spontaneous pep rally) and from the Harris Poll itself, to which 25% of Southerners responded that they follow MLB, compared to 34% of the East, 36% of the Midwest, and 38% of the West. The Braves, of course, derive much of their numeric advantage in my calculations from the sizable population of this large region that they have all to themselves (as far as MLB is concerned). I could believe fourth place nationally for the Braves.

This year, Harris has the Los Angeles Dodgers and Detroit Tigers in fourth and fifth place. My fan counts agree that those teams have large fan bases, but not that large. One thing that could be holding them back in my calculations is if they have bigger national followings than they receive credit for. Because of the Yankees', Red Sox', Cubs', and Braves' reputations for having fans all across the country, PPP usually asks about them in every state it polls. However, there's a limit to the number of teams it can poll on before the poll gets unwieldy—usually eight teams per state is the limit. It's tempting to think that the Dodgers, Tigers, or other teams like the Cardinals could pick up a few million if PPP were able to ask about them nationally.

That's the advantage of the Harris Poll: it conducts a single survey, at one snapshot in time, across the whole country—to be exact, 2,200 adults nationwide (including 700 who follow MLB) surveyed online between June 17 and 22, 2015—so it avoids that problem. But I also have a few gripes with it. Principally, it falls short for me because it doesn't provide actual percentages, like most polls do, for each team; instead, it just ranks the teams from most to least popular. The original goal of my project—what drove me to do my own calculations using PPP—was not just to know teams' relative popularity, but specifically to get hard numbers for how many millions of people each team has in its corner. I've emailed Harris to see if it has specific percentages and is willing to share them, and I'll update this post if I hear back.

A second gripe is that, despite an initial sample of 2,200 adults, the Harris Poll still has far too small a sample for a national poll for which there are 30 possible answers. (Between the 35 state polls that my analysis uses, PPP surveyed 28,101 voters about their baseball preferences.) Simple math tells us that the average fandom percentage in baseball must be 3.33%—which also means that, for teams like the Yankees and Red Sox that we know exceed that number, there are also teams even smaller. Among Harris's sample of 700 baseball fans, a 1% haul would be seven respondents. That makes the numbers pretty sensitive to year-to-year variation and also likely puts a lot of less popular teams within the margin of error. This year, I would single out the Tampa Bay Rays as a likely victim of small sample size. Harris ranked them at #16 this year, up from a tie at #24 last year. That's a huge bump for no clear exogenous reason, and 16th is dubiously high for a team that has struggled so much to attract fans. Here I have more faith in my own calculations, which found that the Rays are probably the least popular team in baseball.

I don't mean to be harsh against Harris—I'm in favor of any pollster that asks about baseball! Any data added to the pool of consideration is valuable; I just mean to point out limitations in how we should interpret it. One place where I do value Harris's data, quite highly, is in the other questions it asks about baseball—and how those questions break down in the crosstabs among specific demographic groups. For instance, I was glad to see that a whopping 80% of fans approve of the new instant replay rules. That really puts a hole in the argument that instant replay takes away from the history and integrity of the game—especially when you look at the crosstabs. Instant replay is actually more popular among older demographics, with 75% support among Millennials, but 83% with Baby Boomers and 87% (!) with fans over 70 years old.

Then there's the big question for the folks over at 245 Park Avenue: what percentage of the adult population follows Major League Baseball? This year, that number dipped to 32%—the lowest Harris has ever found. Just last year, that number was 37%, and it was 41% as recently as 2009. I'm generally not a believer in the idea that baseball is dying, but the sport does face demographic challenges that the poll's crosstabs point to. Among age groups, baseball fandom was lowest among Millennials (29%); among income brackets, fandom was lowest among those making less than $35,000 a year (27%); by level of education, it's least popular with those who didn't go to college (26%). Baseball is a sport for the wealthy, and MLB would do well to lower economic barriers to both attending games and playing them—especially for young people. Because this is a political blog, I would also be remiss if I didn't mention that baseball fandom is largely party-blind: 35% of Republicans follow MLB, 34% of independents, and 32% of Democrats.

It's worth noting that Harris's wording to that question—"do you follow Major League Baseball or not?" is presented in "opt-in" format, whereas PPP asks about fandom in more of an "opt out" way. The result is that twice as many PPP respondents (78% in total) claim to be baseball fans—or at least have a favorite baseball team, which is the technical wording of the question. Simply put, we know that's too high. That's certainly a major limitation of my exact fan counts—they include millions of fair-weather or bandwagon fans who don't know a curveball from a changeup but who simply have pride in the hometown colors.

But then again, who are we to decide what it means to be a fan? Someone who follows MLB every night with an MLB TV subscription and three spreadsheets doesn't necessarily love the team any more than a guy who cherishes his annual tradition of hitting the ballpark bar with his three best friends from college. There are many different expressions of fandom, to be sure, but they're all equally valid. It's possible that Harris and PPP are just counting different things. And just like you can freely choose how you root for your favorite team, you, dear reader, are free to choose which poll's definition of fan fits your worldview.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

The Severalest Fans in Baseball

A few weeks ago, we learned that the US Supreme Court would take up a case deciding the meaning of "one person, one vote." Thankfully, in Major League Baseball, we have no such restrictions. Fans can vote dozens of times for the All-Star Game, with the result this year of 620 million ballots cast—a record.

Around this time of year, and with the Final Vote well underway, I always wonder which teams have the biggest voting blocs behind them. (For example, are there really that many Royals fans out there, or is something funny going on?) The exact number of fans who swear allegiance to each MLB team is the holy grail for marketing executives, advertisers, statisticians, and baseball psephologists alike; hard numbers are elusive and ever-changing. However, a number of sources exist from which we can estimate fan-base population; there may not be a baseball Census, but it has its own American Community Survey equivalents.

In exploring this same question last year, I sifted through a few of these datasets, from Facebook data to the annual Harris baseball poll, before settling on state-by-state polling data from Public Policy Polling (PPP). PPP, run by my friend and huge sports fan Tom Jensen, is known for administering its political surveys with a side of quirkier questions: voters' favorite Great Lake, their concern about falling into sinkholes, and, of course, their sports allegiances. In my 2014 post, I used PPP's data to estimate how many millions of fans rooted for each team.

A year later, it's time for an update. PPP has polled more places, and it has released more up-to-date data in others. As of July 6, 2015, PPP has polled 35 states on their baseball preferences, accounting for 79.0% of the US population. I collect its findings and input them regularly into this Google spreadsheet. Multiply the percentage of respondents by each state's population, and voilĂ : raw numbers for each fan base.

Here in 2015, in the four-fifths of the country that we've snapshotted, the largest fan base belongs to the Atlanta Braves, with over 22 million fans. The smallest, at barely a million, belongs to the poor Mets, so at least there are fewer of them to be miserable. Here are the numbers for all 30 franchises:

Team Fans Team Fans
Atlanta Braves 22,573,607 Minnesota Twins 4,372,998
Boston Red Sox 17,749,160 Cleveland Indians 4,324,696
Chicago Cubs 17,504,648 Milwaukee Brewers 4,261,376
New York Yankees 14,793,886 Kansas City Royals 4,135,297
San Francisco Giants 10,990,204 Pittsburgh Pirates 4,004,612
Texas Rangers 10,094,530 Arizona Diamondbacks 3,998,691
St. Louis Cardinals 8,093,190 Oakland Athletics 3,703,872
Detroit Tigers 7,707,862 Chicago White Sox 3,486,142
Los Angeles Dodgers 7,459,833 San Diego Padres 3,299,274
Houston Astros 6,531,263 Miami Marlins 2,480,189
Los Angeles Angels 6,378,978 Tampa Bay Rays 2,417,083
Seattle Mariners 5,846,564 Washington Nationals 2,167,109
Philadelphia Phillies 5,303,911 Baltimore Orioles 1,594,533
Cincinnati Reds 5,122,065 New York Mets 1,283,038
Colorado Rockies 4,460,263 Toronto Blue Jays* 0

*PPP only polls in the United States; the Blue Jays probably do have only a handful of American fans, but obviously they don't belong at the bottom of this list given their millions of fans north of the border.

(Careful readers will notice that these numbers are dramatically larger than the estimates I published last year. That's due to a slight but crucial methodological change from last year: using total population—specifically, 2014 estimates from the US Census Bureau—as my multiplier, not the number of voters. Last year, I went strictly by the sample that PPP tested: usually registered voters, occasionally likely voters. Because our democracy is really sad, this looked at a much smaller pool of fans. This year, I decided that the share of Red Sox vs. Yankees fans in Connecticut really probably wouldn't be that different among registered voters than among the total population, so I took the liberty of assuming the poll spoke for everyone in the state. This gets us a lot closer to our goal of describing the fandom of every American.)

This methodology has its limitations—most glaringly, the 15 states (plus Canada and the District of Columbia) that are not included, simply because PPP hasn't polled on baseball there. While we've made progress from last year's analysis, adding three new states, the Braves, Cubs, White Sox, Nationals, Orioles, Phillies, Yankees, Mets, and Red Sox are still likely to be undersampled based on the missing states (shaded in red below). That leaves the Tampa Bay Rays as the likeliest smallest fan base.


Still, it's exceedingly clear that the Braves, Red Sox, Cubs, and Yankees, in some order, have the most fans in baseball. This could bode well for Brett Gardner or Xander Bogaerts in the Final Vote. Keep an eye on the excellent county-by-county vote maps that MLB puts out during Final Vote week to see where baseball's electoral clout lies.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

A #CBG2015 Roundup

This blog has been taking a little Christmas vacation—Christmas for baseball-and-politics lovers, of course, being the June Congressional Baseball Game. As you've hopefully noticed from following my Twitter feed, I would never go dark during such a critical period—I've just been active elsewhere. For those who may have missed it, though, here's a recap of my Congressional Baseball writing out there in actual, respected publishing outlets:
  • To bore everyone to tears get everyone psyched in advance of the game, I wrote a sabermetric scouting report for the game over at FanGraphs, whose meticulous and intelligent number-crunching has inspired me, for the past few years, to keep a similar record of advanced statistics for the Congressional Baseball Game. In developments that may or may not have made me squee, the piece (and my database of stats) were picked up by the likes of the New York Times and FOX Sports.
  • Don't worry, old school readers, I poked my nose outside my spreadsheet long enough to watch the game too, which I attended and covered for The New Yorker. I talked to a Republican player you may have heard of—Rand Paul—and President Obama showed up to the game as well, giving me the opportunity to write about presidential figures throughout the history of the game.
Democrats ended up winning this year's tilt, 5–2, extending their seven-game winning streak but by a narrower margin than their superstar-studded team is used to. Despite the loss, Republicans should feel really good about their standing going into next year, as they've finally found a pitcher good enough to keep them in games (Rep. Mark Walker of North Carolina). I learned a ton writing about the game this year, as I do every year; it seems like there's an infinite amount of information, history, and fun angles surrounding the game. I hope you enjoy reading about it as much as I did writing about it.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Who Will Win the 2015 Scripps National Spelling Bee?

(Note: This piece is intended to be a lighthearted take on a fun event; those looking for serious bee analysis should look elsewhere.)

There isn't a sporting event I look forward to more every year than the Scripps National Spelling Bee. (Maybe the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament.) Lest you think I'm being sarcastic, try tuning in this year—it airs Wednesday and Thursday on various ESPN affiliates, with the finals in primetime at 8pm Thursday. It's nothing less than the purest form of human drama, as the best of us—our children—grapple with the worst: fear, crippling expectations, fainting (yes!), crushing defeats (no!), and, of course, the maddening phonetic rules of the English language. The tics, the techniques, the aha moments, the dulcet tones of Dr. Jacques Bailly—these are what help make the bee surprisingly spellbinding television.

Of course, for one* child a year, the pressure forges something special; the lights go up, their shoulders untense, and they are named national spelling bee champion. (*Except last year, when co-champions were controversially crowned for the first time in 52 years.) Two hundred and eighty five contestants will walk into the Gaylord National Convention Center this week, but so many are just there for window dressing. Close bee watchers know the prize will come down to one of the few favorites, many of whom are already well known in this universe; there's Vanya Shivashankar, whose sister won the 2009 bee; Gokul Venkatachalam, who finished third in 2014; Tejas Muthusamy, who turned heads with a phenomenal rookie performance last year; and a short list of others.

So who should you bet on this year? (Note: Please don't bet on how smart a kid is.) It's all about who has tended to win the bee in the past. Thanks to the spelling bee website's official speller roster, complete with bios and a statistics page, we can compare each participant's profile to those of past winners. Obviously, the bee is a competition for who is the best at spelling, not at who checks the most demographic boxes. But just for fun, we can paint a pretty good composite portrait of a bee winner, based on the following characteristics of the past 17 champions:
  • Race. We might as well start here, since everyone else does. I shouldn't have to tell everyone not to use racial stereotypes in predicting a bee winner, but the fact remains that Indian Americans dominate the bee. Thirteen of the past 17 champions, including the last eight in a row, have been of Indian descent; the remaining four were white. How you interpret that is up to you.
  • Gender. Eleven of the past 17 winners were male, while six were female. However, four of the last seven have been girls. (Fun with arbitrary endpoints!) Again, please be reminded that these are not causal relationships and that this whole exercise is tongue-in-cheek. For what it's worth, the list of 2015 bee finalists actually features more girls (146) than boys (139).
  • Age. As you might imagine, the older, the better. Fourteen of the last 17 champs were eighth-graders, the oldest you can be to qualify for the bee. (This is a much higher proportion than the share of eighth-grade participants, which this year is 41.5%.) The remaining three were seventh-graders, so it would be pretty shocking to see anyone in sixth grade or below take home the trophy.
  • Experience. Closely related to age is a contestant's prior experience on the national level. All but one of the past 17 winners had been a national bee finalist before, making it quite likely that we've seen 2015's champion on that stage already. The more times you've been to the national bee before, the more it helps, although second-timers do just fine, accounting for six of the 17. There are 57 returnees this year, including 17 on their third, fourth, or fifth try. (If you're looking for a shortlist of favorites, you could do a lot worse than those 17, who are all also in seventh grade or older.)
  • School type. Perhaps surprisingly, champs have been most likely to go to public school. Nine of the past 17 were enrolled in public school, six were enrolled in private school, and two were home-schooled. However, when you compare this to the overall list of contestants (at least this year's), that's actually an underrepresentation of public-school kids (who are two-thirds of the overall pool) and a dramatic oversampling of private- (23.9%) and home-schooled (4.6%) students.
  • Hometown. Finally, there is pretty good geographic diversity among the last 17 champs: three Californians, two New Yorkers, two Texans, two Hoosiers, a Floridian, a Missourian, a Kansan, a Coloradan, a Minnesotan, a New Jerseyan, a Pennsylvanian, and an Ohioan. Nothing really to go off here.
So, if you subscribe to past as prologue, you'd expect an Indian American eighth grader who has been to the bee before to emerge as the winner on Thursday night. Of course, when you watch the bee, it's worth remembering that all these kids are already winners, even if they're eventual losers at the bee: virtually guaranteed to go on to elite schools and careers, they're sure as heck smarter than all of us!

Monday, May 4, 2015

The Big, Bad, Colorful Chart That Explains State Constitutional Offices

Next election, spare a thought for the poor constitutional officers. The statewide elected officials not titled “governor” are little more than an afterthought for most election watchers, but, as I’ve argued before, they shouldn’t be: they make more policy than Congress these days, and they’re surrounded by every bit as much drama. (For an example, look no farther than the incredible fallout over Missouri Auditor Tom Schweich's suicide.) Oh yeah, and they often rise to become more than just constitutional officers.

Basically, we should keep better track of them—but, in fairness, that’s hard to do. Every state has different constitutional officers and different ways of choosing them, making the constitutional-office picture much messier than, say, the U.S. Senate. To solve that problem, I wanted a source that laid it all out visually—so I created this giant chart, also embedded at the bottom of this page. (A huge assist for this goes to Ballotpedia, where I researched all this data.)

The chart provides info on every constitutional office in the 50 states: which states have which offices (and what they’re called—a frequent local quirk); whether they are Democratic-held (blue), Republican-held (red), independent-held (yellow), vacant (gray), or nonpartisan (white); how they’re selected; and, if elected, when the next election will be. It lists the biggies—lieutenant governor, attorney general, secretary of state, and treasurer—but also the underappreciated of the underappreciated: labor commissioners, school superintendents, and mine inspectors (well, mine inspector, singular)—all the "individual dudes" in state government. (Corporation commissioners, public utility commissioners, railroad commissioners, and elected members of other statewide boards aren’t included.)

The chart illustrates some really important lessons that constitutional officers can teach us. First and foremost, it is proof positive of the Republican stranglehold on state government these days; the GOP has the edge in the partisan breakdown of every single constitutional office (viewable at the bottom of the Google doc). Democrats do OK in comptroller (5–4) and insurance commissioner (6–5) races for some reason, but they get clobbered when it comes to agriculture commissioners (11–1) and, strangely, labor commissioners (3–0–1). It’s also fascinating how all partisan superintendents and land commissioners elected in presidential years (four of 'em) are Democrats, yet all partisan superintendents and land commissioners elected in midterm years (10 of 'em) are Republicans. It really goes to show how constitutional offices can serve as weather vanes for which way the political winds are blowing.

I hope you'll play around and learn a little more about these forgotten offices, and keep your eyes peeled to this blog for more coverage of constitutional offices in this off year.