Instead of protecting umpires from anger, MLB's robot system publicly highlights their every mistake on a giant scoreboard. This has turned umpire errors into viral moments of public humiliation, putting individuals under a microscope and increasing vitriol, the opposite of the technology's hoped-for effect.

The initial robot umpire system, which called the 'textbook' strike zone, felt wrong to players and fans. To improve user acceptance, Major League Baseball reprogrammed the system to be less precise and better reflect the slightly larger, human-defined strike zone everyone was accustomed to, prioritizing feel over objective perfection.

An analyst argues fans watch sports not for perfect fairness, but for human elements like drama, dialogue, and quirks. This is a lesson for product design: optimizing for pure efficiency can strip a product of the very 'inefficiencies' and imperfections that make it engaging and beloved by users.

While AI can inherit biases from training data, those datasets can be audited, benchmarked, and corrected. In contrast, uncovering and remedying the complex cognitive biases of a human judge is far more difficult and less systematic, making algorithmic fairness a potentially more solvable problem.

Contrary to fears that automation would make baseball sterile, the robot umpire 'challenge system' has introduced new dramatic pauses. When a player challenges a call, the entire stadium collectively looks to the scoreboard for the robot's verdict, creating a suspenseful, shared experience that enhances fan engagement.

Instead of replacing human umpires entirely, MLB introduced robot umpires as a challenge system. This human-in-the-loop approach keeps the traditional feel of the game intact while still leveraging technology for accuracy. It's a savvy change management strategy that allows players and fans to adapt gradually to a disruptive innovation.

Aza Raskin identifies an 'under the hood bias' where we wrongly outsource decisions about AI's societal impact to the technologists who build it. This is a fallacy, like letting a car engine designer plan a city's road network, as technical expertise does not equate to societal wisdom.

Despite having only 11 minutes of action in a three-hour broadcast, football is a TV juggernaut. Its constant stoppages are not a bug, but a feature that aligns with our subconscious desire for entertainment that is paced, rather than a non-stop assault on the senses.

Even when AI performs tasks like chess at a superhuman level, humans still gravitate towards watching other imperfect humans compete. This suggests our engagement stems from fallibility, surprise, and the shared experience of making mistakes—qualities that perfectly optimized AI lacks, limiting its cultural replacement of human performance.