Journalists and statistics – an unfortunate marriage.
It has long been know that many journalist have serious numeracy issues – not the least when it comes to reporting so called research findings, or political survey results.
As a result, statistics get a bad name, as in this report. For survey results or research results to have validity, two things are essential.
The sample use needs to be of an adequate size – this will affect the margin of error. For example a sample of 100 will have a margin of error of around 10%, whereas a sample of 1000 will have a margin of error of around 3.2% (95% confidence level, for a large population).
The sample used must be representative of the “population” of interest. This is the hard bit. Getting such a sample is no easy matter.
When journos report their results, they should be obliged to give the sample size and the margin of error.
An example: A survey of 500 voters suggests that 43% would vote for the Wacko party and 39% would vote for the Bonkers party. What does this mean?
500 in the sample would indicate a margin of error of around 4.5%. This is important. It actually means that in terms of statistical significance, there is no difference in voter preference.
This is because the margins of error overlap.
39% >>>>>>> 34.5 ……………….. 43.5
43% >>>>>>> >>>>>>>38.5 ………………….47.5
The margin of error is roughly 1divided by square root of sample size. Then convert this decimal to a percentage
e.g. 1divided by Square root 500 = 0.0447 which is 4.47%
So journos! Here is where to go to get help with your numeracy!
Friday, August 7, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
It's just a game and someone has to lose my friend
Rugby in the Philippines is a highly addictive substance. It is a brand of glue. When I was there many young people were into sniffing the stuff with the end result – an addled brain.
Rugby is Nu Zulun is likewise a highly addictive substance. The football game has been called a national obsession. Once again the national team (the All Blacks) has been soundly thrashed by the South African Team (the Springboks).
Nu Zulun is awash with New Zealand males in withdrawal – gnashing their teeth, beating their breasts. Talkback radio is replete with endless analysis of what went wrong - real evidence (just listen for a short time if you can stomach it) of addled brains.
The sad thing is that with this addiction to rugby in the media, many of our less prominent sports miss out. For example the Nu Zulun Cross country Champs were held on Saturday and not a mention in the Herald on Sunday.
Rugby is Nu Zulun is likewise a highly addictive substance. The football game has been called a national obsession. Once again the national team (the All Blacks) has been soundly thrashed by the South African Team (the Springboks).
Nu Zulun is awash with New Zealand males in withdrawal – gnashing their teeth, beating their breasts. Talkback radio is replete with endless analysis of what went wrong - real evidence (just listen for a short time if you can stomach it) of addled brains.
The sad thing is that with this addiction to rugby in the media, many of our less prominent sports miss out. For example the Nu Zulun Cross country Champs were held on Saturday and not a mention in the Herald on Sunday.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
How beautiful ...
Went to Circus of the Sun last night - Cirque du soleil - Dralion.
Dralion signifies east (dragon) meeting west (lion). It’s what we call a portmanteau word.
It was a chance to escape into a world of the fit, flexible, fleet, agile and strong. It was supposedly a celebration of the human mapping the realm of the gods. Mind you the deep meanings and imagery escaped me. I wasn’t interested. Don’t get me wrong, I am into deeper meanings. However, this time it was enough for me (sitting only one row back) to behold the sheer athletic and gymnastic mastery of the performers.
Much of it was mesmerising and it seemed banal to engage some higher cognitive faculties and ask “but what does it mean?” It is a question that ought not be asked sometimes – the experience itself without labels, words, and interpretation is the best thing.
It was in the best platonic and neo-platonic sense the beholding of beauty of which Ficino spoke. Which was precisely what the real intention of the production was – an ascent into beauty. But beauty cannot be analysed and dissected – only engaged with by one fully present to the moment.
Dralion signifies east (dragon) meeting west (lion). It’s what we call a portmanteau word.
It was a chance to escape into a world of the fit, flexible, fleet, agile and strong. It was supposedly a celebration of the human mapping the realm of the gods. Mind you the deep meanings and imagery escaped me. I wasn’t interested. Don’t get me wrong, I am into deeper meanings. However, this time it was enough for me (sitting only one row back) to behold the sheer athletic and gymnastic mastery of the performers.
Much of it was mesmerising and it seemed banal to engage some higher cognitive faculties and ask “but what does it mean?” It is a question that ought not be asked sometimes – the experience itself without labels, words, and interpretation is the best thing.
It was in the best platonic and neo-platonic sense the beholding of beauty of which Ficino spoke. Which was precisely what the real intention of the production was – an ascent into beauty. But beauty cannot be analysed and dissected – only engaged with by one fully present to the moment.
Picture by permission Clemens Pfeiffer, press photographer, A-1190 Wien
Monday, July 27, 2009
In an English country garden ...
The very mention of the Patterson Cup strikes fear into the heart of any cross-country runner. It is arguably the oldest cross country competition between two clubs in New Zealand. Calliope Harriers and Hamilton Harriers (now the Hamilton City Hawks) first competed against one another in 1930.
In 1932 the cup was presented for the event by W. E. Patterson, the then president of Calliope. The event has been consistently run through the last 79 years apart from a hiatus during three of the war years (1942-45). On odd numbered years, Calliope travel to Hamilton; on even numbered years, Hamilton make the trip to Auckland.
On a stunningly sunny Saturday at 10:45 am, we Calliopians crowded into two rented vans and headed for Hamilton. The race was at Hamilton Gardens near gate two. The course for men was five laps on a slightly undulating but mostly flat 1 km circuit. This blogger acquitted himself splendidly coming in third for Calliope in a personal best (since my comeback in 2005) in the 5000 metres.
I began conservatively, but by the end of lap one began to past some much younger fellows. Wretchedly, I missed the correct finishing chute at the end (a result of being a spent force) and accordingly my official time was recorded as 15 seconds slower than the actual time on my stopwatch (a PB by 37 seconds).
It was a terrific course. We retired to the Hamilton clubs rooms for the requisite sausage rolls, cakes and barbecue washed down by a beer. Another mandatory stop at the Rangiriri Hotel on the way back saw more chips and wedges put away with lashings of ginger beer (and other beers not so ginger).
On Sunday I turned up at the Takapuna Harriers beach steeplechase for more punishment. It was a 6 km race on Takapuna beach and fortunately there was only one "steeple" to negotiate. I once again performed well with a PB for 6 km.
In 1932 the cup was presented for the event by W. E. Patterson, the then president of Calliope. The event has been consistently run through the last 79 years apart from a hiatus during three of the war years (1942-45). On odd numbered years, Calliope travel to Hamilton; on even numbered years, Hamilton make the trip to Auckland.
On a stunningly sunny Saturday at 10:45 am, we Calliopians crowded into two rented vans and headed for Hamilton. The race was at Hamilton Gardens near gate two. The course for men was five laps on a slightly undulating but mostly flat 1 km circuit. This blogger acquitted himself splendidly coming in third for Calliope in a personal best (since my comeback in 2005) in the 5000 metres.
I began conservatively, but by the end of lap one began to past some much younger fellows. Wretchedly, I missed the correct finishing chute at the end (a result of being a spent force) and accordingly my official time was recorded as 15 seconds slower than the actual time on my stopwatch (a PB by 37 seconds).
It was a terrific course. We retired to the Hamilton clubs rooms for the requisite sausage rolls, cakes and barbecue washed down by a beer. Another mandatory stop at the Rangiriri Hotel on the way back saw more chips and wedges put away with lashings of ginger beer (and other beers not so ginger).
On Sunday I turned up at the Takapuna Harriers beach steeplechase for more punishment. It was a 6 km race on Takapuna beach and fortunately there was only one "steeple" to negotiate. I once again performed well with a PB for 6 km.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Don’t you know that it’s worth every treasure on earth to be young at heart …
The World Masters Track and Field Champs start in Finland at the end of July. The age groups start at 35 and go up to … 100 in leaps of 5 years.
It is an opportunity for men and women 35 and above to defy the onslaughts of time.
My good friend Mike Parker (pictured here) will represent New Zealand in the Men’s (55-59 years) 5 km, 10 km and 20 km race walks. He has a darn good chance of medaling. Back in his heyday, he won the British Championship 4 times. I train with him most Tuesdays. Good luck Mike!
Looking at the times expected for some of the competitors, I can see I would not be last by a long chalk. However, neither would I be close to medalling.
It is an opportunity for men and women 35 and above to defy the onslaughts of time.
My good friend Mike Parker (pictured here) will represent New Zealand in the Men’s (55-59 years) 5 km, 10 km and 20 km race walks. He has a darn good chance of medaling. Back in his heyday, he won the British Championship 4 times. I train with him most Tuesdays. Good luck Mike!
Looking at the times expected for some of the competitors, I can see I would not be last by a long chalk. However, neither would I be close to medalling.
What does age do to you perfomance?
here is a graph I did based on age-grade calculations which accurately models the process. It maps the situation for walking 10 km in 1 hour. It shows the percentage you would score for your age against the best in the world. A 20 year-old scores around 62.5% for a ten km walk in 1 hour; whereas a man for my more mature years would score around 76%.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Stary-eyed and vaguely discontented - the great hangover
Not true actually, I am a Liar Liar. I was using this entry to do a quick blogging 101 course with my new Iwrite class.
The course covered such things as:
1. How to make an entry.
2. How to create a link in your entry.
3. How to download a picture.
4. How to post a comment.
Scintillating stuff - however a great class with a wide range of expertize in this blogging matters.
And there let us wallow in glorious mud…
This weekend I travel to Hamilton for the Annual battle between the Calliope Harrier Club (stress on the 2nd syllable of Calliope please) and the Hamilton City Hawks in the Patterson Cup cross country event. We shall plough through the mud and rain to uphold this ‘time honoured event’. I actually last ran in it around forty years ago. Two mini vans have been hired, because a key ingredient in winning this event is rolling up with as many members as possible. Everyone gets at least a point – so walk if you want but finish! So roll up!
Speaking of rolls and role models, Logan Campbell, a Taekwondo practitioner, wants to open a brothel to help finance his Olympic campaign. I was interviewed on an Auckland street about my views. At the end of my semi-articulate rant, I suggested the whole notion of sports “stars” being role models was somewhat dubious.
And it is dubious. Why should a sports star be required by some default mechanism to be a role model? I see no logical connection. Indeed, it seems that on the whole, sports stars don’t make great role models especially if they are Australian rugby league players.
Recent history has been littered with the stories of sportsmen (it is invariably the men) who have fallen from grace usually under the influence of alcohol.
Of course I am a sports star of sorts. I have medals to prove it. I certainly am no role model. Watching me huffing and puffing around Lake Pupuke and then some kids yells out: “I want to be like that man when I grow up”.
Indeed, Jogging is an ugly sight at the best of times.
Speaking of rolls and role models, Logan Campbell, a Taekwondo practitioner, wants to open a brothel to help finance his Olympic campaign. I was interviewed on an Auckland street about my views. At the end of my semi-articulate rant, I suggested the whole notion of sports “stars” being role models was somewhat dubious.
And it is dubious. Why should a sports star be required by some default mechanism to be a role model? I see no logical connection. Indeed, it seems that on the whole, sports stars don’t make great role models especially if they are Australian rugby league players.
Recent history has been littered with the stories of sportsmen (it is invariably the men) who have fallen from grace usually under the influence of alcohol.
Of course I am a sports star of sorts. I have medals to prove it. I certainly am no role model. Watching me huffing and puffing around Lake Pupuke and then some kids yells out: “I want to be like that man when I grow up”.
Indeed, Jogging is an ugly sight at the best of times.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Fly me to the moon …
Bet that song is getting a lot of air time today. I was very aptly in a seventh form (year 13) physics class when the announcement came over the airwaves. Later that day or the next we watched the flickering images on our black and white TV. I was at Northcote College winding up for the mid-year exams.
It was a good year. In early March, I broke the school senior one mile record. A record I still hold as things went metric shortly afterwards. I was president of the Northcote College debating society which met in the school hall on Friday evenings because numbers, which were well over 100 on the nights of big debates, forced us out of the music room we had inhabited in previous years.
I was also the school senior public speaking champion as I had been the previous year, and once again took part in the school drama production. I earned a school blues for sport and a gold award for contributions to the cultural side of things. Finally, I gained a university bursary.
Yet that great possibility of space travel we dreamt of on that day in 1969 has simply not been fulfilled. We seem to have lost that sense of destiny and swapped a universal adventure for the titillation of a trinket at the local shopping mall. The images from forty years ago simply serve to remind us that as a planet we have horribly lost our way.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
That's why the lady is a champ.....
Just be darn careful who you call obese when you swing your BMI around boy!
One so-called measure of obesity is BMI or Body-Mass-Index. This is discovered by calculating weight (kg) divided by height squared (m^2)
Valerie Vili, Nu Zulun’s Olympic gold medal winning shot putter, is 6-4 and 267 lbs.
In metrics that is 1.93 m and 121.1 kg
Now do the calculation folks
(121.1) divided by (1.93)^2 = 32.5 (check it on this calculator for feet and pounds)
Now according to the BMI ratings, Valerie Vili is obese! Over 30 is obese.
Folks, I have seen Valerie working out at the track – and one thing she is not – obese. The woman is a superb athlete in every sense of the word. The weight she carries is just about all muscle. She is agile, fast, extremely strong, and fit.
I suspect with this shot, even the Chinese would like to claim her as one of their own!
One so-called measure of obesity is BMI or Body-Mass-Index. This is discovered by calculating weight (kg) divided by height squared (m^2)
Valerie Vili, Nu Zulun’s Olympic gold medal winning shot putter, is 6-4 and 267 lbs.
In metrics that is 1.93 m and 121.1 kg
Now do the calculation folks
(121.1) divided by (1.93)^2 = 32.5 (check it on this calculator for feet and pounds)
Now according to the BMI ratings, Valerie Vili is obese! Over 30 is obese.
Folks, I have seen Valerie working out at the track – and one thing she is not – obese. The woman is a superb athlete in every sense of the word. The weight she carries is just about all muscle. She is agile, fast, extremely strong, and fit.
I suspect with this shot, even the Chinese would like to claim her as one of their own!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
It immoral, its illegal or it makes you fat …
Nu Zulun– 3rd in the OECD (30 country) obesity steaks (oops – a bit Freudian). The chips are really down for Nu Zulun’s health outlook. It appears the obesity has been mushrooming in the country. Indeed, obesity wise we appear to really be in the soup.
Mind you I don’t believe the half-baked statistics. I take them with a grain of salt insofar as the reporting of some countries is not worth a hill of beans.
Mind you I don’t believe the half-baked statistics. I take them with a grain of salt insofar as the reporting of some countries is not worth a hill of beans.
However, to bring this level of obesity down is going to be no piece of cake.
Enough already!
26.5% of Nu Zulun adults obese. Break this down by ethnicity.
41.7% of Maori adults
63.7% of Pasifika adults
Some are calling for a tax on junk food. The first thing tackled should be air travel! I weigh in at an enormous 69 kg and with my 20 kg of luggage, things are up to uuum er (get that calculator out) 89kg. Obese Tony weighs in at 147 kg and with his 20 kg of luggage (where’s that calculator – somewhere hidden among folds of flesh) things are up to 167. Yet we both pay the same for our ticket.
Enough already!
26.5% of Nu Zulun adults obese. Break this down by ethnicity.
41.7% of Maori adults
63.7% of Pasifika adults
Some are calling for a tax on junk food. The first thing tackled should be air travel! I weigh in at an enormous 69 kg and with my 20 kg of luggage, things are up to uuum er (get that calculator out) 89kg. Obese Tony weighs in at 147 kg and with his 20 kg of luggage (where’s that calculator – somewhere hidden among folds of flesh) things are up to 167. Yet we both pay the same for our ticket.
Now folks, that ain’t fair.
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