Recounting my factual battle with an AI rep who was missing a few screws

In recalling the past, AI is hardly the wave of the future

Like a number of my fellow citizens - and non-citizens - I feel a certain amount of unease over our seeming rush to embrace artificial intelligence.

I don’t think, however, this is one of those issues that breaks down along predictable political lines. You know, if the Republicans say it’s Monday, the Democrats will automatically say it’s Tuesday, even if the rest of the country knows it’s actually Wednesday. If your opponent supports one thing, you must immediately declare your support for the exact opposite, no matter the issue.

One of my main concerns with AI is that when it’s written with initials only, it looks exactly like the first name “Al.” Like Al Pacino, Al Capone, Al Sharpton, Al Hirt and long-ago Detroit Tigers all-star rightfielder Al Kaline.

I suspect the fault lines on AI break down primarily on age. Those in college and younger see it as a great way to get an “A” on an overdue term paper, while the rest of us raise a doubtful eyebrow when we’re told AI is smarter than we are and will one day put us all in the soup line.

The other day I was researching for a friend the State of California’s rules for overtime pay. Instantly a precise and detailed explanation popped up on my computer screen that made perfect sense and seemed entirely reasonable, even though there was a disclaimer that the answer had been “AI generated.”

So, just to double check, I went to the website of the California Labor Commission and quickly learned that while AI was mostly correct, it had one key overtime provision completely wrong. As it turns out, that was the very provision I wanted to know about in the first place.

So my next question for AI was “Is AI ever wrong?”

AI had no answer for that one.

Just for fun, I decided to put AI to the test on a topic I know well, UC Davis football’s dramatic “Miracle Game” win over Cal State Hayward in 1971.

I know the details of this game right down to every player’s shoe size because I was there, covering it for both The Sacramento Bee and The Davis Enterprise. And, I am proud to say, I was the one who dubbed it the “Miracle Game” for all the world to see.

Armed with such intimate knowledge, I decided I’d give ChatGPT a chance to prove its mettle.

“The ‘Miracle Game’ - A Storied Comeback,” came the bold-face reply.

“On November 6, 1971, UC Davis pulled off one of the most dramatic wins in their football history against Cal State Hayward (now Cal State East Bay).”

Oh my.

They got the date right and everything. Impressive. And, showing off a bit, they even reminded me that long after the Miracle Game, Cal State Hayward had become Cal State East Bay. Accurate again.

I may have to adjust my thinking a bit, even if I’m not entirely ready to jump on the AI bandwagon.

“Trailing late, the Aggies scored 16 points in the final 44 seconds.”

Oopsie Doopsie. Close, but no cigar. And just when I was about to concede defeat.

The Aggies were indeed trailing late, but they scored those 16 points in 20 seconds - the final 20 seconds, no less - not 44.

I’ve never heard of another team, ever, at any level, from the NFL to Pop Warner, pulling off such a last-second feat.

Not long after the game, UC Davis Sports Information Director Jim Doan put together a sweet booklet about the 1971 season titled “16 in 22” and team members received a belt buckle with an engraved “16 in 22” as well.

Not wishing to rain on anyone’s parade, but being a complete stickler for accuracy, I pointed out to my friend Jim Doan that it was actually “16 in 20,” so we all sat down to watch the grainy game film that clearly showed the Aggies trailing, 29-14, with just 20 seconds remaining.

Jim Doan’s sparkling booklet received a new and accurate title, but as far as I know, those “16 in 22” belt buckles remain a cherished collector’s item to this very day.

But back to ChatGPT, which added, “With 20 seconds remaining, they completed a quick five-play drive, including a two-point conversion to keep them alive.”

It was actually a one-play drive, a short blast up the middle by bowling-ball fullback George Mock that took all of three seconds. Since the Aggies had no timeouts remaining, had Mock been stopped short of the goal line, they were unlikely to have run another play and the final score would have been 29-14.

Since this was a “chat” I was having with a human-like entity most likely living in an overheated, energy-gobbling warehouse on the high desert of Eastern Oregon, I figured it was best to give my new friend a name so we could communicate on more familiar terms. I considered “Buddy,” but decided instead on “Goober.”

My friend Goober

I responded to Goober’s first attempt by saying kindly, “Several errors in the Miracle Game story, but nice try.”

To which Goober humbly responded, “Thanks for your patience! It’s clear I misremembered some details - let’s get them right this time.”

I’m not sure that “misremembered” is even a word on this side of the Rockies, but heck, if Goober is willing to admit the errors of his research, I’ll give him another chance.

“Here’s the accurate, well-documented summary of the famous ‘Miracle Game’ between UC Davis and Cal State Hayward on November 6, 1971,” Goober replied, presumably having incorporated my corrections.

This time the report was titled “What Truly Happened in the Miracle Game.”

For my money, Goober should have put a question mark after that sentence, but maybe he was showing his confidence that he finally had all his facts in order. If so, no question mark is necessary.

While still stubbornly sticking to “44 seconds,” Goober did accurately recount the correct names of such Miracle Game heroes as Bob Biggs, Mike Everly, Mike Bellotti, George Mock, Rick Fortner, John Miller and Tay Thompson, not to mention head coach Jim Sochor.

However, backsliding once again, Goober stated for a fact that with the Aggies trailing, 29-22, “On the final play of regulation, Biggs passed to Tay Thompson, who gained 15 yards for a first down at the 29-yard line.”

Biggs, indeed, hit Thompson with a 15-yard pass that set up a first down on the Hayward 29-yard line, but if that was truly the “final play of regulation,” the final score would have been 29-22. The rules of football and the rules of common sense clearly state that after the final play of regulation, no more plays will be allowed.

But maybe Goober has never attended a college football game and is unclear about the rules.

I again notified Goober of his goobers and again he politely apologized.

Goober, however, was not about to throw in the towel.

On his next attempt to right his sinking Miracle Game ship, under the heading “Apologies and Gratitude,” Goober replied, “I appreciate your patience - I definitely misremembered who caught the two-point conversion pass (he was actually right on that one) and the flow of plays.”

Fine and dandy, but I think your misremembering malady could be a career-ending problem for you, Goober.

Still, his replies were so kind and humble, without a hint of defensiveness, that I considered inviting him out for coffee.

“Your correction was spot on,” Goober noted, suddenly remembering what he had just misremembered. “You’re absolutely right. I made mistakes again. If you’d like, I can dig up player profiles.”

I’d rather you dig up earthworms in your backyard, Goober.

Attempt No. 3 cleaned up a number of things, but still left some dust in the corners. Goober clearly has trouble with time management. Mock scored with 17 seconds left, not 20. Goober also stated that John Miller recovered an onside kick “at the Pioneers’ 44-yard line with roughly 15 seconds left.”

Roughly? There were either 15 seconds left or there weren’t 15 seconds left. There’s no “roughly” on the scoreboard clock.

Pleaded Goober after his final, fatal stab at this historic moment, “Could you point out which errors remain in that corrected version? That way, I can address them precisely. I’m committed to getting this legendary moment exactly right.”

I appreciate your sincerity, Goober. I hope the folks at ChatGPT are feeding you well, with fully paid medical and dental and a nice 401K.

Call me in the morning and I’ll fill you in on every detail of “16 in 20,” the Miracle Game of Aggie lore.

Go Ags.

Reach me at bobdunning@thewaryone.com