Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Human Manager under stress vs Machine - miro

Chris Coleman admits he’s beginning to feel the strain of being a Premiership manager and that the job is affecting his health: “It is all stress, nerves and anxiety. It is the same for every manager. I’ve been speaking with Sammy Allardyce and David Moyes and they all say their blood pressure is up and they’ve all been suffering from lack of sleep.”

Football management is, without any doubt, a tremendously stressful occupation. The manager has to cope with constant demands from above and below – starting with the board of directors, the obscenely wealthy but mysterious new club owner who’s just landed from the Middle East, the Arctic, Florida or Siberia; not to forget his not too often incredibly loyal playing and coaching staff. If he somehow survives, there are the media around a corner, telling him on Friday he’s the best man in the business, but writing on Sunday that he’s a dreadfully crap tactician and an equally bad psychologist.

This is how we come to psychology, or to be more specific, to psychotherapy.

Some experts would suggest to the top managers a “keep it simple” technique: identify and write down the problem and then look at ways of coping with it. If you get stressed over the idea of going upstairs to have a drink with the board, keep a diary, writing down which of the new club kit designs you prefer or which incidents make you agitated. One psychologist gave Gerard Houllier some straight advice: ”If you feel palpitations during a game, breathe deeply and take some practical exercises…”. We all know what happened then: Gerard recovered after 11 hours of open heart surgery but left Liverpool and the Premiership for good, supposedly on the advice of his psychologist.

This is the age of the internet. For those managers who are reluctant or have no time to spend talking about their problems with mental health professionals, there are alternative methods of conducting psychotherapy in cyberspace: counselling via e-mail or through real time-chat. Here are a few examples of a reasonable exchange, looking like a therapy session, with an interactive psychotherapy program known as Eliza.

Eliza: Hello, I am Eliza. Please tell me your problem.

Mourinho: I’m having trouble at work. Everything is going wrong.

E: You seem quite positive.

M: I might lose my job. I have to do better.

E: Why do you need to tell me that you might lose your job?

M: It’s important for me to do well but I have doubts about myself.

E: I’m not sure I understand you fully. Is your having doubts about yourself why you came to me?

M: I have to do well. I don’t want to disappoint our supporters, directors, my club owner, my wife and children.

E: Can you elaborate on that?

M: I know the club owner and my wife will be angry if I fail.

E: Do you think it likely you will fail?

M: I already lost two games in a row.

E: Is that so bad?

M: I definitely tried as hard as I could.

E: That’s quite interesting.

M: So I don’t know why I failed.

E: Don’t you really know why you failed.

M: You sound like my father.

E: Tell me about your family.

M: My parents always expected too much of me. It made me angry.

E: Your parents expected too much of you?

M: They wanted me to be an engineer or a doctor.

E: That’s interesting.

M: Do you think it was right for them to expect so much?

E: We are discussing you, not me.

Not ideal but not too bad too for a computerised therapist. A dash of confrontation, a few good reflections and even some genetic work could well help the manager under stress to feel a bit better, more relaxed and positive. At least, he spoke with somebody prepared to listen without asking unnecessary or stupid questions.

But Eliza often screws up. This is why some researches didn’t intend it as serious psychotherapy, but rather as an experiment in artificial intelligence. Here’s an example of how wrong Eliza and the top division football manager can go:

Eliza: How do you do. Tell me your problem.

Mourinho: I am failing in my season project.

E: Your season project. That’s interesting.

M: Are you going to help me?

E: Why you are interested in whether I am going to help you or not?

M: Why else would I be talking to you?

E: Why do you ask?

M: Why do you always answer my question with a question?

E: Why do you always say your question with a question?

M: You are not making any sense.

E: Is that the real reason?

M: Because you’re just a dumb computer.

E: Do computers worry you?

M: I hate computers. And I think I hate you.

E: Why do you mention computers?

M: I’m leaving. I can’t stand any more.

E: Is it because you’re leaving that you came to me?

M: You really are a stupid shit!

E: My, my, such language!

M: Goodbye!

E: Does that have anything to do with the fact that your season project failed?

M: Before I go, I’m pulling your plug!

E: Why do you need to tell me before you go you’re pulling my plug!

Why did this therapy session go wrong? Many were quick to point out Eliza’s deficiencies as a clinician. Others thought that the managers were attempting a serious conversation with Eliza, but felt frustrated and misunderstood because of her ineptitude. She simply did not appear warm and empathetic. The manager wanted more concrete advice from Eliza, but experienced “her” as confused, unemotional and non-directive. He tended to think of Eliza as a “female” (because of the program’s name), more humanlike and sympathetic, but found it as “just a computer”.

The manager under stress could hardly have been feeling better after this sort of therapy session, but imagine if Eliza had a personality like a human, with some users’ introductions held in memory and edited into “her” answers:

Eliza: I’m not sure about anything today. I lost all the important matches this season and I’m losing control of things.

Mourinho: Tell me more.

E: One of my patients committed suicide. Another stripped in front of me. Another is crazier than a loon. And to top it all off, my wife left me for the cyber-love rat club chairman.

14 comments:

andrewm said...

Ah - the legend arrives!

I did a very very basic edit on this, so miro I hope you don't feel I changed the meaning at all. I certainly tried not to.

It's not as out-and-out funny as your film posts, but it's clearly not trying to be. I think the basic idea is very interesting, and you develop it superbly.

Miro, you never let us down. Well done, sir!

pipita said...

Hillarious stuff Miro, bravo, and its even funnier if you read the mourinho parts with his accent in mind

andrewm said...

Just to be clear - I'm not saying it ISN'T funny, because it absolutely is.

Thanks for supporting the blog, miro.

miro said...

andrewm, thanks for your kind assistence and all of you for your great support.

I love all of you and use this opportunity to call you once more to keep fighting on the GU SportsBlog, BigBlogger and Ebren's Bigger than BigBlogger.

Ebren said...

I would just like to point out that when I started this site in a moment of blogging inspiration/madness/megalomania [delete as apporpriate] one of the goals was to unleash the Miro of old that had been tamed by repeated deletions.

Thankyou for this Miro, it has made me happy.

Now all I need is a good quiche recipe from a ressurgen Sir Ollie and I will have acheived all I could hope for, dear boy.

Ebren said...

One of my other goals is to learn to spell.

olivier said...

offsideintahiti said

miro,

thank you. I'm sure there's more where that came from so, don't hesitate.

Does Mourinho have anyone in his everyday job who tells him "me too" once in a while? Or is he surrounded by people who just go "me neither" all the time?

MotM said...

miro sensei - Mourinho in therapy with a computer. What a set up!

The legend is here - great stuff!

marcela said...

miro!
fantastic.
your mind works in mysterious ways...

eliza remindes me of a schanks programme from the eighties, i think, which did just that. took a key word in the 'patient' discourse and aked a question. every now and again, at random, a completely unrelated question was thrown in, such as "tell me about your father". none of the huma subjects knew the shrink was a computer.

the blogs have often reminded me of schank's computer shrink but this piece of writing is just perfect!

thank you for posting it here.

guitougoal said...

Miro- I always knew we had met before, while reading your piece, I just found out, Thank you for reminding me, you are one of the last of the best.
still in the corner.guitou.

marcela said...

re quiche and other books...

i was at my father's house earlier today and came accross a lovely little hardback called Kafka's Soup, a Complete History of World Literature in 14 Recipes.

being a loving father he gave it to me as a gift but for those of you less fortunate here is an opportunity to purchase your own copy:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Kafkas-Soup-Complete-History-Literature/dp/1901965090

also, guitou, i couldn't resist buying marguerite duras' original script for india song this morning, as i chanced upon it in a store called 'la boutique del libro'.

serendipitous or wot?

guitougoal said...

Marcela, regarding kafka "wot".
Indian Song- wonderful, make the best of it.

olivier said...

offsideintahiti said...

After reading miro's piece again, it struck me that Woody Allen might do something with that if he had an interest in football.

Who would play Jose?

kokomo said...

miro - that was wonderful! Simply inspired, it really was!

and some of the e-mails are making sense now, as i hadn't read this yesterday.

Tweet it, digg it