Like any self-respecting election nerd, I keep a spreadsheet of prospective 2020 presidential candidates, which includes a column called “Odds They Run.” When a candidate declares, I move it to 100 percent; when a candidate passes on the race, I move it to 1 percent.
The reason I move it to 1 percent and not 0 percent is people like Michael Bloomberg. Bloomberg announced in March that he would not run for president, but on Friday, he is expected to file paperwork to become a candidate in the Democratic primary in Alabama, as today is the state’s filing deadline. This move doesn’t mean Bloomberg is definitely running, however. At this point he’s just keeping his options open, although Bloomberg advisers told The New York Times on Thursday that he would decide for sure whether to run within a matter of days, not weeks.
Even so, Bloomberg’s move is a big surprise given just how late it is in the electoral calendar. (Since 1976, the latest an eventual nominee has launched his or her presidential campaign was August of the year before the election.) Now there are fewer than three months before the Iowa caucuses, and if Bloomberg does end up running, he’ll have to scramble to make the debate stage, let alone get himself in a position to win any states.
The reason, though, why Bloomberg is considering a last-minute bid is that he is reportedly worried about the way the Democratic primary is unfolding, as one adviser told the Times. Back in March, Bloomberg said he believed that it was essential that the Democratic nominee be able to defeat President Trump, and last month it was reported that he would reconsider his decision not to run if former Vice President Joe Biden continued to struggle. Presumably, Bloomberg has now changed his mind after seeing Sen. Elizabeth Warren — whose ideas, especially the wealth tax, he has lambasted as socialism — gain ground in the polls and Biden struggle with fundraising.
But there is arguably very little appetite among Democratic voters — donors may be a different story — for yet another presidential candidate. In October, a YouGov/HuffPost poll found that 83 percent of Democratic or Democratic-leaning voters were either enthusiastic or satisfied with their presidential choices. And it looks like there is even less appetite for Bloomberg specifically. According to last week’s Fox News poll, just 6 percent of likely Democratic primary voters said they would definitely vote for Bloomberg should he enter the race. And a hypothetical Harvard-Harris Poll of Hillary Clinton, John Kerry and Bloomberg mixed in with the rest of the Democratic field gave Bloomberg the same 6 percent of the vote.
And those polls would probably qualify as good news for Bloomberg, given that he was generally registering around 2 or 3 percent in national primary polls before first taking his name out of consideration in March (which is also when pollsters largely stopped asking about him).
In a field this crowded, entering the race in the high single digits wouldn’t even necessarily be a bad thing, but the problem is that it might be harder for Bloomberg to build on that support than it would be for other candidates. In an average of polls from January and early February, I found that 62 percent of Democrats knew enough about Bloomberg to form an opinion (which was pretty high), but his net favorability (favorable rating minus unfavorable rating) was only +11 (which was pretty low). As you can see in the chart below, Bloomberg was a real outlier — for as well known as he is, we would have expected him to be much better-liked, with a net favorability of about +35, not +11.
And history suggests Bloomberg’s low favorability ratings would be a major obstacle to winning the nomination. Our past research indicates that people who win presidential primaries tend to either be (a) already well known and well liked or (b) relative unknowns to start off the campaign. Only one nominee since at least 1980 has been in Bloomberg’s position (well known but not well liked), and that’s Trump himself.
Assuming Bloomberg does decide to run, where would he fit into the race? Well, as the former Republican-turned-independent mayor of New York City (he reregistered as a Democrat last year), he would be running as a moderate alternative in the Democratic primary. He favors liberal but not progressive solutions to issues like health care and climate change, and he can be downright libertarian on fiscal issues, like the regulation of banks and, of course, taxes. (It’s little wonder that he has denounced Warren for years.) That said, he has become a progressive leader on the issue of gun control, founding and investing millions in the group Everytown for Gun Safety, which has emerged as a powerful political counterweight to the National Rifle Association. Unfortunately for Bloomberg, though, candidates from the more moderate end of the party (other than Biden) have struggled to gain traction in the polls, so there’s a real question of how much support he can reasonably expect to attract. His candidacy may depend on eating into Biden’s support (which, ironically, could make it likelier that someone like Warren wins the nomination).
Thanks to his successful financial services and media company, Bloomberg will at least have money at his disposal (he has a net worth of $52 billion) to help him overcome his late start. It’s not hard to imagine Bloomberg doing what fellow billionaire-turned-presidential-candidate Tom Steyer has done — use his own money to saturate the early states with advertising and augment his state-level polling numbers just enough to qualify for the debates. However, as we noted when Steyer entered the race, wealthy self-funders don’t actually have an electoral advantage. For example, in 2018, we found that self-funders<a class="espn-footnote-link" data-footnote-id="1" href="https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/how-seriously-should-we-take-michael-bloombergs-potential-2020-run/#fn-1" data-footnote-content="
Defined as candidates who donated or loaned their own campaigns $400,000 or more.
“>1 in congressional and gubernatorial races won Democratic primaries at about the same rate as non-self-funders did. And getting 4 percent in four individual polls (the polling threshold for the December debate) is a far cry from being in legitimate contention to win the nomination.
Instead, it seems likelier that Bloomberg will affect the race primarily because of the effect he will have on other candidates. For example, he could cause Biden to slip in the polls by chipping away at his moderate base or throw cold water on the ascent of South Bend, Indiana, Mayor Pete Buttigieg. He could also turn voters away from Warren or Sen. Bernie Sanders by becoming the designated attack dog against progressive policies. Or he could fail to make much of an impact at all, leaving the current state of the race unchanged. We’re getting ahead of ourselves, though; it’s still possible he won’t run at all. Either way, there’s a long way to go before Bloomberg is a factor in this race.
You probably missed this as baseball’s postseason was coming to an end last week — but congratulations are in order to the Houston Astros. Why? Because Houston finished the 2019 MLB season with the No. 1 Elo rating in Major League Baseball, of course.
I mean, sure, the Washington Nationals just beat the Astros to win the World Series in seven games. But still, the Astros were your official Elo champs for the 2019 season. (Somehow I doubt the Astros will throw a parade or put up a banner for the honor.)
Because Elo takes a long view of the entire season, being the best in it is a pretty good proxy for being the best team in the league “on paper.” And it’s actually not uncommon for Elo’s Paper Champion and the team that wins the World Series not to be one and the same. Including Houston this year, it’s happened 28 times — or in a whopping 52 percent of seasons — since the late 1960s, when MLB expanded to a division-based playoff format. Simply put, baseball is a sport in which the best team doesn’t always win. (Or even if it does, maybe we don’t always know who the best team is anyway.)
|Paper Champ||Actual Champ||Paper Champ||Actual Champ|
Other sports have their own Paper Champs. (Although none happen anywhere near as frequently as in MLB.) I went back to the start of the Super Bowl era in 1966<a class="espn-footnote-link" data-footnote-id="1" href="https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/championships-arent-won-on-paper-but-what-if-they-were/#fn-1" data-footnote-content="
Except in women’s college basketball, where our data doesn’t start until the 2001-02 season.
“>1 and looked at the other sports for which we keep Elo — the NFL, NBA, college football, and men’s and women’s college basketball. Using the versions of our Elo that contain no adjustments for trades or players being in and out of the lineup,<a class="espn-footnote-link" data-footnote-id="2" href="https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/championships-arent-won-on-paper-but-what-if-they-were/#fn-2" data-footnote-content="
“>2 I found each case where the champion at the end of the season<a class="espn-footnote-link" data-footnote-id="3" href="https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/championships-arent-won-on-paper-but-what-if-they-were/#fn-3" data-footnote-content="
Including all of the widely recognized champions from college football’s pre-playoff era.
“>3 was not the team that finished atop the Elo leaderboard. Across all of these sports, these Paper Champs come up more frequently than you might think:
Since 1966, all but seven seasons<a class="espn-footnote-link" data-footnote-id="4" href="https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/championships-arent-won-on-paper-but-what-if-they-were/#fn-4" data-footnote-content="
Using the trailing year to designate the season for sports whose regular seasons significantly span across multiple calendar years (i.e., “2019” for the 2018-19 NBA season, etc.).
“>4 (2013, 2009, 2005, 1998, 1989, 1979 and 1967) contained at least one Paper Champion across these five sports. Some years featured a lot more: In 2011, for instance, there were four Paper Champs — the Yankees in MLB, the Patriots in the NFL, and Ohio State (men’s) and UConn (women’s) in college basketball. (The only champs that actually led in Elo were the Dallas Mavericks in the NBA and Alabama in college football.)
In general, there is about a 50-50 chance that a given baseball season would produce a Paper Champ and somewhere between a 20 and 30 percent probability each of the other sports will as well.
|No. of Paper Champs||28||11||15||14||14||4|
|Share of seasons||51.9%||20.4%||27.8%||25.9%||25.9%||22.2%|
|% of Paper Champs lost H2H**||46.4%||90.9%||60.0%||14.3%||78.6%||25.0%|
What does all of this mean? Well, it could be that Elo is broken. Even though it is calibrated to be the best predictor for a team’s next game — given its recent form, long-term expectations, wins and losses, scoring margin, opponent quality and game locations — maybe there are certain aspects of each sport’s postseason that aren’t captured by the algorithm. (This is the “Billy Beane’s Shit Doesn’t Work In The Playoffs” theory.)
A fundamental challenge of forecasting is the balancing act between considering a large amount of information — some of which may be of less relevance than others — and a more specific one that is more relevant, but also more prone to factors such as random variance in a small sample. Our Elo models attempt to straddle this divide, but it’s impossible to find the perfect mix of information that works in every single case.
Then again, maybe the real issue is that playoff systems are too small of a sample to determine the best team. Perhaps the best we can do is be content believing the champion was simply one of the top teams in a given season, nothing more.
Still another way of reconciling Paper Champs to postseason reality, though, is to consider that most of these actual champions vanquished their on-paper rivals head-to-head along the way. When there was a Paper Champ in baseball, for instance, 46 percent of the time that team lost directly to the eventual champion in a postseason game or series. (See: Nationals over Astros.) In the NBA, that number was 60 percent; in men’s college basketball, 79 percent; and in the NFL, a whopping 91 percent. Although Elo still wasn’t convinced that the matter was settled afterward, the Paper Champ at least had a chance to make its case on the field or court.
And in most of the cases where things weren’t settled head-to-head, you only have to zoom out a little to find a path of head-to-head superiority between the actual champ and the paper one. Like in the 2017 NCAA Women’s Tournament, when UConn finished as Paper Champ … but lost in the national semis to Mississippi State, which then lost to South Carolina in the title game. Almost every disagreement between Elo and the official championship can be settled either directly head-to-head or in this manner — with the exceptions of a few pre-wild-card MLB seasons (in which the Paper Champ didn’t even make the postseason at all) and a number of older college football campaigns that underscored just how broken the sport’s pre-playoff system truly was.
In 2007, famously one of the weirdest college football seasons ever, USC was Elo’s choice, while LSU prevailed in the BCS. To find a head-to-head path that put LSU over USC, even if you open up the possibilities to include the regular season,<a class="espn-footnote-link" data-footnote-id="5" href="https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/championships-arent-won-on-paper-but-what-if-they-were/#fn-5" data-footnote-content="
Since it has long been argued that the college football regular season is kind of like a seasonlong playoff, with de facto elimination matchups scheduled along the way.
But at least the BCS existed by then. Before it came along, the 1970s and ’80s often required even more ludicrous daisy-chaining of head-to-head results to reconcile the championship. In 1976, the path from actual champ Pitt to Paper Champ USC required a string of five games. And in 1983, the chain went like this: Actual champ Miami beat Notre Dame, which beat Boston College, which beat Clemson, which tied Georgia, which beat Texas, which beat Auburn, Elo’s Paper Champion. No wonder college football fans clamored for a proper playoff (even if the one they have now could also probably stand to be expanded).
But even with the perfect playoff system, you can never really avoid Paper Champs. Random variance and matchups — plus a million other factors — will always cause teams to play better or worse than they look on paper. And would we really want it any other way? If we look at who would have benefited most over the past half-century if Elo perfectly aligned with actual championships, the rich would mostly have gotten richer:
|Biggest gainers||No. of championships|
|Notre Dame Fighting Irish||CFB||4||0||+4|
|Los Angeles Lakers||NBA||11||7||+4|
|New York Giants||NFL||4||1||+3|
|St. Louis Cardinals||MLB||4||1||+3|
|Kansas City Royals||MLB||2||0||+2|
|San Francisco Giants||MLB||3||1||+2|
|Ohio State Buckeyes||CFB||4||2||+2|
|Biggest losers||No. of championships|
|San Antonio Spurs||NBA||5||8||-3|
|North Carolina Tar Heels||MBB||5||7||-2|
|New England Patriots||NFL||6||8||-2|
|New York Yankees||MLB||7||9||-2|
|Alabama Crimson Tide||CFB||9||11||-2|
Although I feel bad for the Orioles and Indians, who would have won multiple extra championships if Elo had been perfectly predictive, other teams that have won plenty of real titles — Alabama football, UConn women’s basketball, the Patriots, the Yankees, the Spurs, etc. — “should” have even more under Elo.
Oftentimes, it’s the unpredictability of sports that make them great — just ask the Nationals. So we’re sorry, Astros. Although the first-ever Elo Championship pennant would be something to behold.
By Syndicated From External Source on November 7, 2019
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