Data, Data Everywhere
By Joseph Janes
American Libraries Columnist
Assistant Professor, Information School, University of Washington.
intlib@ischool.washington.edu
Column for March 2004
Regular readers of these little missives will likely have figured out by now that I’m a geek. Guilty as charged; ask anyone who knows me. I want, though, to elaborate—and to tell you that I work with some pretty substantial geeks as well. A burden shared, after all. . . .
It just so happens that in addition to our geekdom, we also share an alma mater. And it also so happens that last year about this time our alma mater was advancing through the NCAA men’s basketball tournament. Naturally, we got together and watched the games to share the experience. (I’ll spare you the suspense: We all went to Syracuse, and they wound up winning the national championship—and there’s a sentence I didn’t think I’d ever write. Go Orange!)
Over the last several years, many websites have sprung up providing live statistics for sporting events. At first I remember sites that gave scores, but you’d have to keep reloading the pages to get updates. Then, slowly, other statistics were added, and then pages that would regularly reload and update. Now it’s a much smoother process employing a variety of sophisticated technologies found on such sites as msn.espn.go.com, sports.yahoo.com, and cbs.sportsline.com. (I love the live updates from wimbledon.org—with the Java applet that replicates the scoreboard on Centre Court.)
It was the CBS site that confronted me, projected onto a blank wall next to the television, when I showed up at my boss’s house for the regional semifinal. There, about six feet square, was the site, showing the live game score (delayed a few seconds), individual and team statistics on scoring, rebounds, assists, fouls, and so on. Not content to simply have the computer there for consultation (online via the wireless hub in the house), it was up on the wall for all to see.
The site wasn’t perfect, and the numbers would mess up from time to time; overall, though, it wasn’t bad.
In the past, if you wanted to know game statistics, you’d either have to keep them yourself (and yes, I do that at baseball games) or wait for the newspaper the next day. Broadcasts began giving statistics at halftime and the end, then more frequently, and now, of course, it’s hard to avoid them at times.
The most valuable part, though, was the fact that this information was now not only at our fingertips but also available to us on our own terms. Without waiting for the network to decide it was time to tell us the foul situation, it was right there.
This certainly added a dimension to our enjoyment and understanding of the game. Once in a while, it also detracted—I got lost one or two times in statistics and zoned out of the actual game—but I was surprised at how easily we adapted to this newly more information-rich experience.
Therein lies a lesson. We were surrounded by data of many kinds, and we were able to integrate it fairly quickly and well and use it to our advantage. To be sure, we are “information people” as well as sports maniacs, so we had a framework from which that integration could easily proceed.
It’s going to get easier all the time to get access to more information, including live, time-sensitive information (financial, sports, news, weather) on our own terms. You can even download software for live news tickers à la Times Square or CNN.
We have the ability now to be awash in a sea of data, one that we control, as big or small, comprehensive or focused as we like. Having chosen what kind of data to swim in would likely help in understanding and using it.
The human touch
In an increasingly information-intensive world, human attention becomes the scarce commodity. So we need all the ways we can get to assist in attention and understanding. People will need guidance, advice, expertise, and help in making choices, filtering out crap, and deciding what not to pay attention to. These roles are important, and somewhat different from the traditional roles of librarians. There’s more than a little overlap, though, and I’d encourage us to think of techniques we can adapt to assist people in keeping their heads above the information water.
I’d like to think that at the same time we can foster serendipity. When you choose information channels, it’s harder to run across something surprising or new and potentially valuable, as you do when browsing book stacks . . . but that’s another story.
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