A relatively unknown hardware company has just released one of the first "fitness trackers" which can measure a wearer's physiology. As well as counting steps, it now has the ability to measure heart-rate and a bunch of other things. They think that athletes and exercisers will be interested in knowing these vital statistics. But they're wondering if there's another market they've missed.

My employer's pitch is simple - livestream the cardiac rhythms of football players back to their coaches. If Ted Lasso can see that Jamie Tartt is faltering, substitute him.

In a sense, it is no different than the tech that's used in Formula 1 racing. Team engineers can see the motor's exact RPM, temperature, and wear. Every facet of the car's performance is analysed to extract marginal gains in performance. And, incidentally, to prevent catastrophe.

With advances in technology, it would be possible to measure a player's oxygen saturation, their alertness, and lactic acid build up. Having complete understanding of athletes' health would be a literal game-changer.

We could go even further. How about we give that data to the TV broadcasters? How does it enhance your experience of the game if you can see the beats-per-minute of the striker and goalkeeper in a penalty shootout?

Our pitch-deck had a slightly more professionally produced version of this graphic:

Would bookmakers like to know that the star player had exhausted themselves? Would stats nerds like to know who ran the furthest? Would players like to scream abuse at the lazy players?

In the end, the pitch failed on three counts:

1. Battery power just wasn't good enough to continually transmit real-time data across a football pitch. Not without making the device much bulkier and heavier.
2. Worries about eavesdropping. Unless the signals were extremely well encrypted (not likely given the primitive technology and power requirements) then the opposition team could gather valuable insights on their rivals.
3. Player privacy. Professional athletes are humans. They want (and deserve) privacy. Perhaps they have a minor heart condition that they don't want the world knowing about?

I genuinely don't know enough about sports or the psychology of fans to know if this would have been successful. All the customer research seemed to think that it would have been a big hit with gamblers. I daresay with all the other augmented reality stats which currently deface the screen it would have fitted right in.

But, to most people, it felt needlessly invasive. There's still a huge "ick factor" around seeing other people's medical information. Players, we were told, just wouldn't go for it.

As the technology matures, I can't help wondering how long it is before it becomes ubiquitous. Would we demand politicians display their galvanic skin response so we can tell if they're lying? Should all first dates mandate arousal detectors to ensure compatibility? Will your employer let you take a loo break only if you can prove that you're bursting?

Strange times ahead...

ESPN FC

@ESPNFC
ESPN

Florentino Perez says we may need to make football matches shorter than 90 minutes 😳 pic.x.com/wvxbIFdp5c

On the face of it, I sort of get it. Viral football clips of sporting prowess (or failures) do Big Numbers™ on social media. Casual fans love them, and even non-fans might watch them.

A regular football match is a 2-3 hour commitment to watch - if you include half-time, extra-time, pre- and post-match analysis. True, that's not much compared to binge-watching a boxset on Netflix. But the problem is, most of a football match is boring. Lots of running around with inconsequential action. A dodgy tackle to liven things up occasionally. But there's just not a lot of stuff going on.

The average score in football is 1-0. That means, during your two hours, you get one moment of elation - assuming your team wins. Even if you like the frustrated anticipation of your team shooting and missing it is pretty slim pickings.

So shorten football. Make the pitch smaller so there's more action and less pointless running. Make goals bigger so there are bigger scores. Dress the players up in sexier uniforms. Ratchet up the tension by encouraging penalties. Put GoPro cameras on the goalies and have drones tracking the strikers to make the viewers feel more immersed. Give the referees weapons.

This is, of course, all nonsense. Having a 30 minute game, where the players run around in hot-pants, and is an endless stream of penalty shoot-outs - is not going to make me watch a game. Because I just don't care.

It turns out that most people just don't care about football

Football, so it seems to me, is an exercise in tribal loyalty. I don't think fans really care whether their team wins or loses. They want to tickle the part of their brain which is hardwired for being part of a crowd and supporting their tribe. That's not a bad thing - I think we all do it to a varying extent.

Football fans want to belong to a tribe. While it is nice when their team wins, it is pretty irrelevant. In some cases, losing matches helps solidify the bond with their tribe.

Again, that's fine if that's what you want to do. But for people outside the tribe, it all looks a little weird.

But there's nothing I can do to get a football fan excited in a big-endian / little-endian flame war. Political Junkies aren't going to care about PHP vs Python. Religious fanatics don't want to spend all day discussing whether The Beatles are better than The Stones.

I'm sure football can bring in more casual fans by tweaking the game, making events more family friendly, and reducing the cost of attendance. But they can't adjust the fact that all tribal rivalries look ridiculous to outsiders.

I hated playing sports as a teenager quelle surprise. In a vain attempt to get me to love the beautiful game, a PE teacher once made me team captain for a kickabout. My rival? Sporty Dave. Head boy, house captain, and conqueror of puberty.

The PE teacher made us pick our teams. I went first and, naturally, chose the weakest of my classmates - Fat Derek. He was overjoyed not to be picked last for once.

"You idiot!" whispered Dave. He picked his mate Phil - who was similarly blessed in the sporting department.

I chose Asthmatic Gary next, while Dave signed up another sporting hero.

And so it went. I assembled a team of wheezers, misfits, and the terminally unfit. Dave had the cream of the crop - all of whom snickered at us. We went off to give our teams a pep-talk before kick-off.

"Right lads," I said, "Do any of you actually enjoy playing football?"

They looked around sheepishly and agreed, collectively, that they found the whole experience pretty miserable.

"OK, so here's how we have fun while making the other team feel as crappy as we usually do..." at which point, in the TV adaptation of my life, the camera pulls out and the sound trails off.

In reality, my plan was simple. Our aim was to help the opposing team score as many goals as possible. If the ball looked like it was coming towards us, we had to sidestep it. If we were ever unlucky enough to be in possession of the ball, we had to pass it to an opposing player. Whenever they scored a goal, we had to applaud them.

The whistle blew, and we were off.

The opposing team couldn't believe their luck! Goal after goal flowed. By the time we were 5-nil down, the novelty of it had worn off. Once the score was 15-love, Sporty Dave jogged over to me.

"Ummm... Do you think you could play, please?"

"What do you mean?"

"Errr... It just isn't fun doing it like this?"

"I dunno mate," I looked over at my team who were grinning away, "We seem to be having a lot of fun. We're not tired and sweaty, we're not getting pushed, shoved, or humiliated, and we're enjoying helping you win."

"But it doesn't count!" He whined. "It's just too easy."

"You're scoring lots of goals. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes... but..."

"Well then? My team get to be fresh and alert for the double-maths we've got after this. And you get to run around chasing the ball. Let's carry on!"

And so we did. We rewrote the rules of the game so that we could have fun. Our idea of fun was radically different from the sporty-boys - but we didn't care.

You don't have to play the same game as other people on the pitch. Even if you're bound by the same rules of play, you can alter your success criteria to be something that you want to achieve.

We ended the game triumphant. For the first time in living memory, we were happy after PE. Our rivals, despite their 37 goals, looked miserable and dejected.

They didn't want to win. They didn't even want to play. They wanted to humiliate their rivals. Once we were no longer able to be humiliated, they found the entire experience as demoralising as we usually did.

After that incident, I was only ever picked to be team captain once more. But that's tomorrow's post.