Two Frustrations With the Data Science Industry

I saw some serious BS about data science on LinkedIn last night. This is nothing new, but this time I couldn’t help myself. I went on a small rant:

I don’t give a shit if you call yourself a data scientist, an analyst, a machine learning practitioner, an operations research specialist, a data engineer, a modeler, a statistician, a code poet, or a squirrel. I don’t care if you have a PhD, if you went to MIT or a community college, if you were born on a farm or in a city, or if Andrew Ng DMs you for tips. I want to know what you can do, if you can share, if you can learn, if you can listen, and if you can stand for what is right even if it’s unpopular. If we’re good there, the rest we can figure out together.

I must have tapped into something, so I’d like to myself a bit more thoroughly.

My rant is rooted in two frustrations about data science.

My first frustration relates to overclassification. How many different terms can we use to refer to data scientists? I honestly don’t know. I have it on authority that there are six types of data scientists. No, wait, there are seven. Strike that, eight. Actually there are ten. Stop the insanity!


The industry itself is also subject to this kind of sillified stratification. I don’t know what the hell I do anymore. Is it operations research? Statistics? Analytics? Machine Learning? Artificial Intelligence? All of it? It depends which thought leadership piece I read. And what is the current state of this field, anyway? Are we in the age of Analytics 2.0? Or is it 3.0? Is big data saving the world, or is it the “trough of disillusionment”? I find all of this unhelpful.

Why is this happening? The use of computer models to learn from data has been around for at least five decades now, but data science has moved from an unnamed, specialized backwater into a rapidly growing and vital industry. This growth has created a market for teaching others about this hot new field. It has also led to the organization of a hierarchy of those who are “in the know” and those who are not. These are the factors driving the accelerating creation of labels and classifications.

However, knowing the names of things does not constitute understanding of essence; the proliferation of labels under the banner of “thought leadership” is often a gimmick; and as Martin Gardner said, inventing your own terminology is a sign of a crank. Debates about terminology often draw us away from doing good data science. Maybe it’s just me but sometimes I get the feeling these distractions are on purpose. They don’t help anyone solve any problems, that’s for sure.

The second frustration I have is overreliance on credentials. As opposed to academic or research positions, my own work in industry has been focused on the practical use of data science to address business problems. More often than not, I’ve worked as part of a team to get the job done. What matters for people like me is whether problems actually get solved, in a reasonable amount of time with a reasonable amount of expense.

I have encountered situations where employers would only consider applicants who had graduated from certain schools, or with certain degrees, or with a certain number of years of experience with a certain specific technical skill. All of these qualifications are proxies for what actually matters: whether someone can meaningfully contribute to team-based analytical problem solving. Focusing on proxies results in both Type I and Type II errors: hiring scientists with great credentials but an inability to deliver (“all hat and no cattle“), or even worse, missing out on the opportunity to hire the proverbial “unicorn” because they didn’t tick the right box. I’ve seen both happen. These proxies are not without their uses: if I really require the development of an MINLP solver to solve optimization models with a particular structure…the right candidate very likely has a PhD. The point is not to confuse correlation with causation. Having a PhD does not make me a great data scientist. Nor does github, nor Coursera, nor Kaggle points. We need to dig deeper.

I suppose I should end positively. The last part of my rant was an appeal to inclusiveness and an appeal to pragmatism. Practical data science means making tradeoffs, large and small, every single day. It means seeing the big picture but also being willing to dig into the details. Let’s take this same practical mindset in growing our skills and building our teams.


2015 NFL Statistics by Player and Team

I have downloaded stats for the recently completed 2015 NFL regular season from, cleaned the data, and saved the data in CSV format. The files are located here. If you prefer a github repository, check here. The column headers should be self-explanatory.

You will find seven CSV files, which you can open in Excel or Google Sheets:

  • QB: quarterback data.
  • RB: running backs.
  • WR: wide receivers.
  • TE: tight ends.
  • K: kickers. I have broken out attempted and made field goals by distance into separate columns for convenience.
  • DEF: defensive stats by team.
  • ST: special teams stats by team.


Nathan’s Reading List: 7/17/2015

Enjoy. And thank you Pocket.

Nathan’s Reading List: 7/7/2015

Here are a few interesting things I read last week:

Domain Expertise and the Data Scientist

When it comes to analytics, domain expertise matters. If you are going to be an effective data scientist doing, say, marketing analytics, you’re going to need to know something about marketing. Supply chain optimization? Supply chain. Skype? Audio and networking.

The point is so obvious that it is surprising that it is so often overlooked. Perhaps this is because in the decades before the terms “data science” and “analytics” entered common usage, the programmers, statisticians, and operations researchers who filled data science roles were simply known as “analysts” or “quants”. They were associated with their industry rather than their job function. Now that the broad “data scientist” label has entered general usage, it is difficult to speak to the domain-specific skills and knowledge required by all data scientists, because they are so industry-specific. I can give marketing analytics data scientists all kinds of advice, but what good would that do most of you?

Many new data scientists have math, stats, hard science, or analytics degrees and do not have deep training in the industries where they are hired. This was common in the 90s when investment firms hired physics grads to become quants. At Nielsen, all of my college graduate hires were trained in something other than media and advertising. The challenge for these newbies is to learn the domain skills they need – on the job! A few words of advice:

Do your homework, but not too much. You may be provided with some intro reading, for example PowerPoint training decks, books, or research papers. It’s obviously a good idea to read these materials, but don’t get your hopes up. I find that these materials often suffer from two flaws: 1) they are organization- rather than industry-specific (for example, describing how a marketing mix model is executed at Nielsen, rather than how marketing mix models work generally), and 2) they are too deep (for example, an academic paper describing a particular type of ARIMA analysis). In the beginning you will want to get the lay of the land, so seek out “for dummies” materials such as undergraduate texts or even general purpose books for laypeople.

Seek out experts in other job functions. Unless you are an external consultant, you will usually have coworkers whose job it is to have tons of domain expertise. For example, at Nielsen, Analytics Development team members worked in the same office as analysts and consultants, whose job it was to carry out projects for clients (rather than building the underlying models and systems). In another organization, it may be a software developer that is building a user interface. Or it may be the client themselves. They will understand the underlying business problems to be addressed, and hopefully be able to describe it in plain language. They may also be well acquainted with the practical difficulties in delivering projects in your line of work. Finally, they are likely to have lots of their own resources for learning.

Teach someone else. The best way to learn is to have to explain it to someone else, so a great technique is to prepare a presentation or whitepaper regarding a process or model that is underdocumented, or write an “executive summary” of something that is complicated. Even better is to write a “getting started” guide for someone in your role. Even if it is never used, it is a good way to crystallize the domain specific information you need to learn to do your job.

It’s Not My System

Those of us who build and inhabit systems often forget how arbitrary they are. I am reminded of this every time I go through airport security. I fly occasionally but not often, just frequently enough to be reminded of the variations in the collection of regulations and tasks that James Fallows calls “security theater”. Shoes on? Shoes off? Ring on? Off? Cell phone on? Off? Boarding pass in hand? Toiletries in a plastic bag? Shoes off? On? One trip it is one way and the next it is the opposite. Some TSA agents bark out the policies, seemingly annoyed at the fact that we’re getting it all wrong. Maybe some of these things have remained the same for years – I don’t know; it’s not my system. Just tell me what to do.

Don’t get me started on website passwords. Six characters. Eight characters. Letter and a number. Upper and a lower. Case insensitive. Special character. No special character. Different from the last ten. I don’t remember my password, so shoot me. It’s not my system. Just tell me what to do.

Windows 8. Swipe down. Swipe to the side. Scroll to the corner. Drag to the corner. Use the “share charm”. Right click. Don’t right click. It’s not my system. Just tell me what to do.

You: person who is about to build a system that I will use some day. I will never give it as much thought as you, or at least I hope not to. I am a capable guy. I’m no dummy. I just don’t care as much about the thing you built as you do. Except for certain cases where I care with an intensity that you will probably never understand, because I may miss my flight, or need to pay a bill, or need to connect to wireless. It’s not my system. It’s yours. Just tell me what to do.

Things I Wish I Had Learned in School

Here’s a list of subjects of professional relevance I wish I had invested more time in as a starry eyed youngster.

Presentation skills. Perhaps you are like me: more naturally drawn towards building things, and would rather someone else explain what it is and what it does. I don’t have that luxury. I have to explain, train, or convince colleagues, clients, or partners every day: formally and informally, conceptual and practical, by phone, Skype, and in person. I’ve had a lot of practice these five years, but boy would it have helped for me to have come out of school more prepared. My experience as a teaching assistant in graduate school was extremely helpful; I recommend all graduate students sign up to do classroom teaching if they can. Even so, formal training would have helped. Presenting is tough. You need to meet your audience where they are, with your demeanor and content, while staying on message and being yourself.

Statistics. I half-assedly audited a couple of stats classes in grad school but never really took it seriously. Big mistake! Who knew at the time (the early seventeenth century) that we would see not one but two revolutions in statistics: the mainstreaming of Bayesian statistics and the emergence of analytics as a discipline. These days, if you know stats and can code you can write your own ticket. Even as a journalist.

Writing. I had the good fortune to attend the University of Iowa, which has the best writing program in the country, but I didn’t fully take advantage of it. Blogging has helped to compensate a little, but I don’t write frequently enough, and when I do it is the material is often hastily thrown together. The sad thing is that few notice. Standards are low, so it is easy to get away with being a poor writer in technical disciplines. I would stand to gain little materially by improving my writing, yet writing appears on my list because it is a pleasurable activity.

Graphic design. Look at that Wikipedia definition: “the art of communication, stylizing, and problem-solving through the use of type, space and image.” Who wouldn’t want to do that? Notice that I didn’t say web design: too limiting and too focused on technology. Type/space/image problems have come up again and again in my professional life, and I find that the time I’ve spent paying heed to these concerns has always paid off. Well executed graphic design is a joy to create and a wonder to behold.