The biggest mistake we as sports fans make today is thinking that the Artificial Intelligence (AI) debate in sports is about technology. It’s not. It’s about the fan identity crisis. We complain and shout at the TV when the referee or umpire makes a bad call, but we worry about AI’s power, even when we assume the technology is making the perfect call. This debate of tradition versus innovation begins because we can’t decide what we value most: accuracy or humanity.
Valuing accuracy means seeing sport as a science. It is the belief that the primary goal of sports is to find the true winner, leaning on AI to eliminate the issue of human error so that the game is decided strictly by performance, not a missed call.
On the other hand, those that value humanity see sport as narrative. The primary goal of sports is not to see complete accuracy, but to witness human struggle. It means that — though the fans might not like it at the time — an umpire’s bad call or a bad bounce of the ball is a part of the collective experience.
Let’s take the example of going to a baseball game. You and your friends are sitting shoulder to shoulder in the bleachers, hotdog in hand, watching the final inning. Your team needs one run to tie as the best hitter on your team steps up to the plate.
The bases are loaded, there are two outs, and the batter is down two strikes to three balls. Stakes are high, as a strikeout ends the game and a ball brings in the tying run. On the next pitch, the umpire calls a strike when the ball is clearly wide of the zone. Unbelievable!
In today’s MLB, this disaster would be a non-issue. Under the new challenge system, a pitcher, catcher or batter could simply signal the umpire to consult AI for the call. The technology would reveal the ball was wide, the call would be overturned and your team would walk in the tying run. Crisis averted, mathematically speaking.
But in this scenario, let’s say this technology doesn’t exist. It’s game over, and you’re yelling at the umpire, turning to those next to you on the bleachers to talk about the “botched” call. Yes, your team lost, but you’ve gained something else: the collective bond of a community united by the same “unjust” story.
This situation begs the question: is screaming at the umpire and forming a connection with those next to you a quintessential part of going to a sports game? Or do we place more value on the AI umpire getting the call right?
The public’s hesitation to answer this question is reflected in the data, as a Sports Business Journal study found that nearly 70% of fans are either actively skeptical of AI or completely indifferent to its benefits.
On one hand, prioritizing accuracy trades the human drama of a “blown call” for simulation-like precision, potentially erasing the legendary outcomes that only happen when a game is allowed to be imperfect. It means losing the dialogue and innate connection when someone scoffs, “Did you see that call last night?” and you have something to bond with a near-stranger over.
But prioritizing humanity means accepting that sport can be inherently unfair. It means sometimes valuing the “human experience” — yelling at umpires and referees with the people around you — over an objective truth that the human eye missed.
Sports organizations like the MLB seem to be in the same stalemate as fans, as the ABS system makes the AI strike zone a limited resource in an attempt to find a desperate middle ground: they want to offer a safety net of accuracy — just in case — while desperately clinging to the traditional experience of a human umpire.
This compromise, however, is not sustainable. As AI continues its rapid development and looks to emulate high degrees of perfection, it’s going to be hard for sports teams and organizations to turn down opportunities for line call accuracy in exchange for missed calls.
Before the “human element” is fully ousted from the game, we fans must stop debating about the technology and start addressing our own identity crisis, deciding what we value before the organizations make that decision for us.