There's a lot of strong dynasty analysis out there, especially when compared to five or ten years ago. But most of it is so dang practical-- Player X is undervalued, Player Y's workload is troubling, the market at this position is irrational, and take this specific action to win your league. Dynasty, in Theory is meant as a corrective, offering insights and takeaways into the strategic and structural nature of the game that might not lead to an immediate benefit but which should help us become better players over time.

Filler Words

Some words mean things. Other words have no lexical content-- meaning they contribute no meaning. These are commonly known as "filler words". Common examples include "um", "like", or "you know". One can, you know, simply remove them from a sentence without, like, changing what the sentence says or anything.

Filler words are bad; anyone who knows anything would tell you as much. They serve no purpose except to waste time and make you sound hesitant or unknowledgeable. Consider what Grammarly-- a tool designed to help improve one's writing-- has to say about them:

In most cases, filler words have a negative effect and reflect poorly on your communication skills... Good communication, both in speech and writing, demands conciseness. Essentially, the fewer words you use, the stronger your words become. When you remove all the unnecessary words, the listener or reader can focus more on the remaining, necessary words. 

And as advice for eliminating them from your speech, it offers:

Despite fear of the “awkward silence,” a momentary pause in speech can be a powerful communication tool. A silence at the right time can urge your listener to reflect on your words, adding more significance to what was said last. 

If you’re not sure of what to say next, don’t say anything at all. Keep calm and the words will come to you on their own. In the meantime, a small silence is often better than a string of filler words. 

This largely mirrors what every English teacher, every editor, every speech coach, and every employer has ever said on the subject. One would have to be a fool to think filler words were good.

Readers, I am a fool. Filler words are great.

A Story About a Fence

When I wrote last year about potentially abolishing trade deadlines, I shared a principle called Chesterton's fence after philosopher G.K. Chesterton, who wrote 

There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, “I don’t see the use of this; let us clear it away.” To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: “If you don’t see the use of it, I certainly won’t let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.”

It's a useful rule: before advocating to be rid of something, make sure you first understand its purpose. Filler words may have no meaning, it is true, but this doesn't mean they don't have a purpose. In fact, their proper name is not "filler words", it is "discourse markers"-- a name that speaks much more to their true use.

What do Discourse Markers Mark?

Conversation is a serve-and-volley activity; it’s all about using efficient turn-taking strategies to keep it moving forward. Sometimes you need to stop and think, but if you pause and go silent, the laws of conversation dictate that you have concluded your turn and it is now your partner’s turn to respond.

Sometimes you haven’t concluded your turn, you just need a moment to finish your current thought. Discourse markers serve an important role as a signal to your partner that you are not quite ready for them to respond and you need a brief moment to think before you continue. Conversational partners recognize this and happily (if unconsciously) oblige, knowing they’ll eventually need the same courtesy.

If you follow Grammarly's advice above and sprinkle your speech with pauses, you will not encourage your listeners to reflect on what you have said so far. You will encourage your listeners to interrupt your thought and begin their own.

There is something you can use to cause listeners to reflect more carefully on what you are saying, though. Would you believe that thing is... filler words?

The aspiring reformers are right; discourse markers do signal that you're struggling with a more complex thought and need extra time to process it. Studies find that even toddlers have learned the laws of conversation and recognize this fact. But when faced with a signal that you are taking time to gather your thoughts, toddlers begin paying closer attention, assuming the thing they are about to hear will be especially novel or complicated, requiring extra attention to understand.

Indeed, children learn concepts better when the explanation of those concepts is sprinkled with "umm"s and "uhh"s than they do when the concept is presented fluidly, stripped of all discourse markers. The so-called filler words pique their interest and engage their attention.

Filler words are— not to put too fine a point on it— vital to the efficient functioning of society and one of the greatest examples of linguistic reciprocity (which, as my sons could tell you, is my favorite word in the English language). They beautifully encapsulate the collaborative spirit of mankind.

That's Not All They Do

 A full accounting of every purpose discourse markers serve would take an entire series of articles, but here are some of the other neat things they can do:

• Define or indicate the relationship between speaker and listener
• Change topics
• Add emphasis
• Hedge
• Backchannel (provide feedback to the speaker without seizing control of the conversation)
• Organize information
• Take the floor from a partner who is reluctant to relinquish it

A Role For Everything

Just because something has a purpose doesn't mean it's good for every purpose. If you are trying to convince a reader or listener of your expertise, these discourse markers can undermine your efforts. If you are in a context where conciseness is prized above all else, they will stand athwart that goal.

If you're writing an article or hosting a podcast that is meant to be informational, discourse markers are likely not useful. If you're striving more for conversational, they're likely invaluable. One should strive to use the things that are useful for things in the manner in which they are useful and not in the manner in which they are not.

Language is complex, but every aspect of it developed for a very specific and important (if unconscious!) reason, and I’m strongly against blanket prescriptions for what we do with it going forward (especially in cases where we may not fully understand those reasons, which is probably all cases).

What Do Filler Words Have To Do With Fantasy?

Nothing-- I suppose one could suggest that the entire section above was filler. But I've been thinking about them a lot recently. Discourse markers are words that don't have any intrinsic meaning but serve to direct our attention.

Two weeks ago, I wrote about how everything is selection bias. More accurately, I wrote about how everything interesting is probably selection bias, adding "But this is itself selection bias! The fact that something is interesting makes it more likely that it is flawed because surprising things are more likely to be interesting and also more likely to be mistaken."

It seems to me that if "umm" is a discourse marker-- directing our attention without contributing meaning-- then surprise must be something akin to a concept marker. It's our brain's way of saying "Pay close attention, there's something here worth learning".

This is invaluable! Our attention is a finite resource and we should be judicious in how we allocate it. When we hear "filler words are bad" for the 80th time, that's not surprising; when someone stands on the table to announce that filler words are good, perhaps it's time to take notice.

Again, surprise is content-neutral. Surprising things aren't necessarily true. (The fact that they're surprising means they're more likely to be false.) However, engaging with surprising things represents an opportunity to grow.

Surprise Directs Our Attention

Bill James-- the father of analytics in baseball-- once wrote that a good statistic should produce a leaderboard that is 80% exactly what we'd expect and 20% surprises. If the rate of surprises is much higher than 20%, it dramatically increases the chances that someone screwed something up and the leaderboard is wrong. Surprising things are more likely mistaken, so the 80% "what we expected" is a useful reassurance.

But if the rate of surprises is much lower than 20%, the statistic isn't telling us anything worth hearing. If I invent a statistic that says the greatest quarterbacks of all time are Tom Brady, Peyton Manning, Dan Marino, Joe Montana, Steve Young, and so on, that statistic is probably measuring something true. That statistic is also useless; you knew all of that already.

If my statistic also puts Daunte Culpepper in the Top 10, suddenly that's something worth paying attention to. Right or wrong, the fact that Culpepper finds himself in that company should make us curious about what the statistic sees in him that we missed.

I get the impression that many believe-- implicitly or explicitly-- that expertise is the slow elimination of surprise. That surprise is a sign of unfamiliarity and unfamiliarity is a sign of untrustworthiness on a subject. Just like many believe that sprinkling one's speech with a handful of "umm"s marks someone as unprepared and not, say, taking seriously the job of grappling with complexity.

But I am often surprised by a player's production. I am often surprised by rankings or trade values. I am often surprised by new statistics and new studies. I'm often surprised by other managers' choices and other writers' arguments. This sport and this hobby have a seemingly limitless capacity to surprise me, and that's good. My biggest breakthroughs and my best moves have generally resulted from embracing surprise.

Likewise, I always aim for my work to be surprising in turn. It may not always be correct (given the rate at which I disagree with my past self, it's a safe bet much of it won't be), but hopefully it's at least worth taking note of.

I don't ever want to find myself surprised less or less surprising. I think surprise can be a superpower-- if you let it. If you resolve to be open to it. If you recognize that it means nothing by itself but marks the things that we should be paying the most attention to.