BLINDSIDE: STATS, FACTS AND HALF-TRUTHS

I rarely used calculators for math exams—at least not for basic arithmetic. I have a way of arranging numbers in my head and solving simple equations mentally. So, I struggled with Caleb’s submission that Nigerians have a number problem. But I couldn’t argue with the evidences around me—I couldn’t disagree with his analysis too. You hear people in public spaces, during arguments about finances, talk of men in their villages richer than Aliko Dangote. As much as figures are an issue, value is where we probably have the bigger problem. It’s more a matter of measurement. Humans need standards for comparison.

Unlike my wife, I shop without a list, but always manage to stay within the budget or pocket, with a clear foreknowledge of my bill before unloading before the cashier—I’m not saying wifey goes beyond the budget o, but she comes back with items not on the original list. Now, I’m learning to adjust from my near instinctive Standard International units to the British Imperial system. I have always understood distances in metres, and weight in grams, so, it’s difficult to imagine span in miles or sizes in ounces. And I find conversions tedious.

There is more context to our weakness with figure-inclined subjects. We underrate the role of eyesight in judgement. My boss once called me into his office to help him read a document in small prints and I realised I couldn’t. Both of us agreed we needed to visit the optician. Now, my pair of glasses definitely affects my sense of space or proportions—to the nearest inch.

There are innate traits associated with the environment we find ourselves. Perhaps, not absolutely congenital, but subconsciously groomed. Nigerians are more art inclined—we notice colours and patterns more than we are mindful of the more intricate technical details. And this has nothing to do with excellence. Maybe number isn’t our thing. The only concern is that we’re not bothered to adopt this science. We sadly don’t appreciate the value of quantitative precision.

Balance is an impossible word. It’s one thing humans find hard to achieve in various facets of their existence. The world sits on a knife-edge—perpetually in a state of imbalance. And every time we try to correct the disparity it tilts the other way. I was discussing the UK benefit system with Pete, my artiste friend and official city guide in Nottingham. Seated at the balcony, holding a cup of coffee with a splash of rum, I lamented the absence of such a system in Nigeria. The vulnerable need some form of support, especially in a society where the basics are lacking. He touched on the downside of the system—the fact that some could afford to adopt a sleeping-drinking lifestyle with money from those who work their butts off. Extreme ends of the same thread! Again, balance is the culprit.

We now find ourselves in a world that relies so much on quantitative data in measuring excellence. How ironic! I’m not a fan of stats—they are facts, and facts are half-truths. Stats are unbiased. But they can be manipulated—people can decide to be selective in presenting and applying available information. They can blindside context.

A former colleague tried to downplay Arsenal’s loss in the semi-finals of the 2024/25 UEFA Champions League. He presented a half-thought-through excuse for Mikel Arteta. And though he presented facts, he was careless with his stats. Pep Guardiola didn’t win the champions league in his three years at Bayern Munich and it took him eight years to win the trophy with Manchester City. Jose Mourinho, with unlimited resources at Real Madrid couldn’t deliver the coveted European title in three seasons. On the surface, his submissions are correct, but did he deftly take our focus away, for a moment, from the other achievements these managers had within the same periods—their cabinets are trophy laden. Arteta’s shelf is still dusty—or shiny with hope that he’s one step closer. This may sound unfair, but that’s what stats do, put the facts up for scrutiny, and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth—that’s truth.

My ex-boss needed a tool to improve productivity, something that could double as an appraisal platform. His friend pitched a software, and to make it appear like a fair choice, he asked our opinion—the CRM’s, and mine, as the Head of Technical Operations. From my experience at my former company, the software helps to standardise process—requisitions, reporting, filing/archiving—but it’s also cumbersome, stretches delivery time with its multilayered approval (especially when the workflow is not well designed) which could be frustratingly repetitive or unnecessary. I made my opinion known, but because I was the main target of this upgrade, he brushed it aside. At best, we needed a bespoke system for our technical activities, and the app turned out to be a waste of resources.

We won two UN projects and suddenly the head office started showing interest in our day-to-day operation. We started going for Monday meetings. They were already looking at the next million dollars contract. When the pressure became unbearable, I filled up the weekly reports with irrelevant statistics—it was what they wanted, though, activities rather than the reality of due process.

Tim Krul was a 120^th minute substitute for Netherlands in the 2014 world cup. He replaced Jasper Cillesen who had never saved a penalty in his career prior that time. Tim had saved two of the twenty he faced at Newcastle United—he ended up winning the penalty shoot-out for his team, against Costa Rica, with two saves on the night. As of today, a decade after, both goal keepers have faced 63 penalties each, Tim Krul has 8 saves and Jasper, 10. Arsene Wenger brought in Davor Suker to take the first penalty in the shoot-out against Galatasaray at the 2000 UEFA cup final. He had a 100% record before that match. He missed the crucial kick, his team’s confidence took a dive, and they ended up losing the game.

Carlos Kameni conceded 425 goals in 334 appearances in the La Liga, just managing 97 clean sheets. But if you watched the Cameroonian in his playing days, you would agree with me that he was one of Africa’s best goal keeping exports at that time. He made his national team debut at the age of seventeen and went on to play seventy-one games for them.

What am I saying? We make calls based on statistics. We make predictions and form opinions on the basis of available data. We manipulate facts to push the narratives we want. Stats don’t do justice to a player like JS Park’s career, because no data can aptly measure his impact and contributions to the teams he played in—he does the hard and dirty works, and there’s no barometer for that. Claude Makalele was as important as Frank Lampard in Jose Mourinho’s Chelsea team, but the media only celebrates goals and assists. Awards largely favour attacking contributions.

Today, Nigerian football fans ignore Yakubu Aiyegbeni’s numerous goals and remember his one horrendous miss at the world cup. The Yak had 95 English Premier League goals from 252 appearances, a brilliant return when you consider that the closest tally is 52 goals for Kanu Nwankwo who played twenty-one more games.

We rate songs and creative contents by their streaming count—even when we know how paid adverts and click-baits rev up the numbers. I’ve given up on understanding economics. Successive government run campaigns, flaunting records of economic growth, figures that don’t correlate with the reality of the streets. In essence, numbers can be misleading, you have to scrutinize facts to unearth truth.