The holidays are upon us. A chill is in the air, and across the nation family and friends draw near to share a time of joy, fellowship, food, and football. It seems to me that this is a great time to discuss path dependence and how it impacts player development in the NFL.
“What does path dependence have to do with the holidays?” you may ask? Well… nothing. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s always a good time to discuss path dependence and player development. So let’s have at it, shall we?
What is Path Dependence?
If I were to engage in a little argumentum ad dictionarium, I would merely link to the Wikipedia article and say “Path dependence explains how the set of decisions one faces for any given circumstance is limited by the decisions one has made in the past, even though past circumstances may no longer be relevant.”
Of course, my employers would likely take a dim view of merely plagiarizing Wikipedia and passing it off as original work. Employers are funny like that. So in order to avoid any awkward conversations with the bosses, I’ll break it down a little bit and provide some examples.
For an example of path dependence at work, let’s look at the rise of Silicon Valley. If you have a technology startup, odds are good you’re going to locate it in Silicon Valley. Why? Because that’s where the majority of venture capital investors are located. Why are they located there? Because that’s where the majority of tech startups are located. Why are they located there? Because that’s where the majority of venture capital investors are located. Why are they… is it just me, or is this starting to sound like familiar territory?
There are advantages for an industry to concentrate its activity within a small geographical area. Buyers and sellers can keep in closer contact, contractors and suppliers are more readily available when they are needed, and in general the entire industry benefits from certain economies of scale.
We see this in the oil industry, which largely clusters in and around Houston, Texas; in fact, Houston is home to the headquarters of more Fortune 500 companies than any city except for New York City. We see this in the automobile industry, which is heavily concentrated in and around Detroit, Michigan. And we see this in technology firms, which invariably gravitate towards Silicon Valley.
Is there something special about these locations that cause them to become industrial hubs? To some extent, yes— Detroit’s location on a Great Lake waterway gives it natural advantages as a transportation hub, Houston’s location gives it easy access to Texas’ fertile oil fields, and Stanford University provided a natural talent pool for the Silicon Valley tech firms to draw upon.
At the same time, these were hardly the only suitable locations for these burgeoning industrial hubs. Had Henry Ford built his first factory in Cleveland, there’s a high likelihood that Motor City would have resided in Ohio and not Michigan. Had oil been discovered in North Dakota before Texas, it’s likely that Bismark would instead be home to more than 20 multi-national corporations. And had William Hewlett and David Packard been graduates of MIT instead of Stanford, we might be talking about Boston as the world’s foremost technological hub.
In other words, these areas gain significance not through their own intrinsic features, but rather as an accumulated advantage that compounds over years. It made sense for computer parts suppliers to locate in Palo Alto, because that’s where the first computer companies were founded. It makes sense for new computer companies to headquarter in Palo Alto, because that’s where all the parts suppliers are located. And on and on and on.
Bees, Path Dependence, and Royal Jelly
The majority of female bees are sterile workers. A small minority of female larvae, however, grow up to be fertile queen bees. What’s interesting is that there is no difference between the bee larvae that will grow up to be workers and the larvae that will grow up to be queens.
Early in the lifespan, the worker bees feed all bee larvae a substance called “royal jelly”. Each bee is fed this substance for three days. Occasionally, however, the hive will have need of another queen; in these instances, certain larvae will be selected to continue receiving the royal jelly after the three day period. Indeed, the workers will create special chambers for these designated larvae and essentially marinade them in a surplus of royal jelly throughout their entire development.
The result of this special treatment is that these larvae develop into queens. But again, there is nothing special about the larvae themselves. Every worker had the potential to be a queen, and every queen had the potential to be a worker; the only difference between the two was the continued application of royal jelly.
Queen development, then, is a type of path dependence. The fact that a bee is a queen today owes to the fact that it was bathed in royal jelly yesterday and not to any intrinsic properties of the bee itself.
In 2010, Henry Abbott of ESPN drew an analogy between bee larvae receiving royal jelly and young NBA players receiving minutes and coach support. The article is a fascinating read, and I would highly recommend it whenever you have the time. For those who would prefer not to click through, the concept- which he did not invent, but which he was among the first to explain in a clear and concise manner- is that every young NBA player is talented, but only certain players are placed in the ideal circumstances to develop.
In NBA games, player minutes are a finite resource (with 5 players on the court every minute and 48 minutes per game, coaches only have 240 player minutes to allocate in any individual game). Typically coaches are concerned about winning, so they give the lion’s share of these minutes to established veterans. Occasionally, though, teams will have a weakness or will coach with an eye towards the future, and they will give more of these minutes to young developmental prospects.
In his article, Abbott quotes David Thorpe, a professional player development specialist, with the following anecdote: “A great recent example of this was Trevor Ariza with the Lakers last season. In the spring, everyone was wondering why they'd let him shoot all those 3s. It wasn't productive. But they needed him to be able to do that, they let him do that, they didn't yank him for doing that, and they coached him how to do that better. And in the playoffs he was amazing at that and helped them win a championship.”
This, too, is a form of path dependence. The fact that Trevor Ariza was a sniper in the postseason owed at least partially to the fact that Trevor Ariza was given a lot of minutes, a green light to shoot, and a long leash when his shots weren’t falling in the regular season.
Indeed, through the first four years of his career, a mere 3.8% of Trevor Ariza’s shots had come from outside the three-point line, and Ariza connected on just 20.9% from that range. Then, in the 2008-2009 NBA season, Ariza received the royal jelly. That year he attempted 32% of his shots from beyond the arc, and connected on 31.9% of them. Since that season, Ariza has been a categorically different player; 41.7% of his shot attempts have come from beyond the arc, and 35.6% of those shots have connected.
Would Ariza have developed into a sniper had Los Angeles not originally had such a need? It’s possible, though I think not. Instead, Ariza might well have continued on his previous developmental path and been out of the league within a few seasons.
The Royal Jelly in the NFL
Royal jelly is not merely a concept that applies to bees and NBA players; in the NFL we see this process play out time and time again.
Take a look at Trent Richardson, for instance. Richardson has been earmarked for the royal jelly treatment ever since he first set foot on the field. Had he not been a top-5 draft pick, and had Indianapolis not traded a first-rounder to acquire him, would he still be getting the opportunities he has continued to receive?
Trent Richardson is hardly the first highly-drafted player to benefit from a dose of royal jelly, merely the most recent. In 2000, the Arizona Cardinals selected Thomas Jones with the 7th pick of the NFL draft. He spent three seasons with Arizona, largely serving as a backup, and compiled just 3.5 yards per carry in between a series of injuries.
After his failed stint with Arizona ended, Jones signed with the Buccaneers, where he again served mostly as a backup en route to 800 yards from scrimmage. Tampa let Jones walk after just one season, at which point Chicago signed him. Thomas Jones then proceeded to top 1300 yards from scrimmage in each of his next six seasons, compiling more yards over those six seasons than all but three other NFL players. In short, Jones became a consistent and productive star for the Bears and the Jets, (who acquired Jones after the Bears let him walk to make room for fellow top draft pick and royal jelly recipient Cedric Benson).
Would Jones have continued to get opportunities had he not been a top-10 draft pick? It’s certainly doubtful. Could other running backs have eventually blossomed into quality starters had they been given as many chances and as much organizational support? It’s almost certain.
What would have happened, for instance, if Toby Gerhart had been drafted by Cleveland, (who instead selected Montario Hardesty in the 2010 NFL draft)? Is it possible that, absent the looming presence of Adrian Peterson preventing Gerhart from getting any crucial on-field experience, Gerhart could have blossomed into a star? If Gerhart had gone to Houston in place of Ben Tate, might have have consigned Arian Foster to the bench? And had Ben Tate never gotten injured before his rookie year, might Foster be out of the league today instead of arguably playing at a higher level than any other back in the NFL?
Wide receiver Demaryius Thomas is an all star in the middle of a dominant stretch, but what would have happened if he’d been selected in the 6th round instead of the 1st? Might Denver have parted ways with him rather than waiting around after Thomas tore his Achilles, (historically a career-ending injury)? And had Denver never signed Peyton Manning, would Demaryius ever have gotten the detailed instruction that has turned him from a raw athlete into a technician?
Indeed, there are certain players who are destined for greatness no matter what happens. LeBron James likely would have been one of the best players in NBA history regardless of where he landed. Adrian Peterson surely would have shined and earned a starring role even if he’d been an undrafted free agent.
On the other end of the spectrum, certain players are destined to fail regardless of their circumstances. Ryan Leaf likely never had the mental fortitude to play quarterback in the NFL. Danario Alexander’s ligaments would have been made of silly string regardless of which team signed him.
The overwhelming majority of NFL players, however, reside somewhere in the middle. Nobody makes it to the NFL without being talented. Whether that talent translates into on-field production is often going to depend on how many opportunities a player is given to excel and how much organizational support he is provided.
Had Belichick not taken an active interest in him, Wes Welker likely would have retired as nothing more than the answer to a trivia question, (in 2004, Welker was the second player in history to kick a field goal and an extra point, return a punt and a kickoff, and make a tackle in a single game). Had Philadelphia not signed Chip Kelly, Nick Foles likely never would have made it into the record books.
This is one of the most important concepts to understand in dynasty leagues, but too often I see owners discuss player talent as if it is merely a fixed point. As I said, all NFL players are talented, but which of them becomes a star is often capricious, arbitrary, and the result of a sequence of events outside of a player’s control.
For the majority of players, the path they take through the league matters more than any intrinsic abilities they might possess.
