Statistics have to be cited in nearly every conversation about sports, and often, they can be helpful in proving a point. The stats have often been mentioned when talking about NBA star Kevin Durant, and his 41-game streak of 25+ points per game, which ended in early April. This incredible feat is further enhanced upon examining the stats, and these figures clearly serve their purpose. However, years from now when we look back at this amazing string of games, what will we remember? Will we focus on the numbers, and the significance of these numbers in a factual context as compared to other NBA legends? Or will we remember the moments, the dominance, the amazing shots, and the hot streaks? It's a complicated question, and it goes right to the heart of sports.
The true beauty of sports lies in its ability to amaze. It's about the unforgettable heroics: the successful desperation hail mary, the walk-off home run, the buzzer beater, the overtime goal, the moments you dream about as a kid and get to live vicariously through as a fan. It's about the inspirational moments: your countryman winning the gold, the player getting back up, two opposing athletes helping each other, the scrub sinking the game-winning shot. It's about the awe: the freakishly athletic plays, the beautiful finesse, the brute strength, and the amazing strategies, the times that make you stop and just admire the true talent you're witnessing. Sports isn't truly about numbers, or even trends: it's about moments. Moments that statistics will never be able to capture, because a number, no matter how impressive, just doesn't that captivating ability.
Boston and baseball fans alike will always remember Jonny Gomes' series-changing game 4 home run. This hit, which was the key turning point of the 2013 world series, will live on forever. But what will live on? The statistics just don't tell the complete story: Gomes was batting .152 that postseason, and it was a 3-run homer in the 6th inning. Sound groundbreaking? Not exactly. But watching that moment, watching this journeyman veteran blow open a world series, was awe-inspiring, heroic, and inspirational. The stats suggest it was a crap hitter hitting a HR in the middle of a world series game, in the middle of a series. That's not the legacy anyone wants to remember from the moment, except for Cardinals fans and Seth Maness. The true legacy lies in the moment.
The ongoing argument of the existence of 'clutchness' in sports is a prime battleground for the stat junkies to assert their superiority. Stat junkies assert that there is no such thing as hot hand, clutch hitter, or 4th-quarter QB.Through complex algorithms that the average sports fan cannot understand, they claim to have proven that these clutch moments are actually random. True or false, is this really how we want to understand sports? Should we just discredit the Jerry Wests, David Ortizes, and Joe Montanas of sports, Thanksgiving football and playground basketball included? The concept of clutch may not exist in a numerical sense, but no one can deny that with a minute left in the game and down by 2, you would want Tom Brady under center instead of an *arguably* equal QB such as Peyton Manning. Our brains may tell us that with an equal receiving corps and similar numbers throughout their careers, the choice doesn't matter. But our heart reminds us of the Super Bowl drives against the Panthers and Rams, and 2013's dramatic comebacks against the Saints and Broncos.
Sports are all about heart, and using statistics as a legacy won't allow us to understand the true significance of sports' make-or-break moments.
For short-term analysis, and even long-term analysis, stats are helpful in backing up a point. That being said, the true legacy of sports lie in the moments that make us love them in the first place.
