Planning beats probability — Part 1

In 2023 Everton were in a relegation battle. The team I support were in danger of dropping out of the Premier League, and I was worried.

In February we had sacked our manager, Frank Lampard, and replaced him with Sean Dyche. We started well, with a 1–0 home win against Arsenal, but only won 2 of the next 13 games. Dyche did what he was expected to do — organised our defence and picked a team of hard working pros, but we lacked confidence and quality. After a disappointing loss at home to Fulham followed by a draw at Crystal Palace (two winnable fixtures), many thought we had to beat Newcastle in our next game. I was in Belgrade and watched the match in the hotel bar. We lost 4–1 in a shambolic, humiliating performance and that was when I thought we were done. We were second bottom of the league, and firmly in the relegation zone. I thought we were down.

However, we didn’t know that we’re be relegated. It wasn’t certain. And I noticed that my instinct was to speculate on what would happen.

Our next match was against Leicester, one of our relegation rivals, in a so-called “6 pointer”. Winning these sorts of game not only gives you the standard 3 points, but also deprives your opponent of being able to win 3, and are therefore crucial for league placings. Twenty First released the following analysis, which estimates the probability of relegation depending on the outcome of that specific fixture:

A win would reduce our chances of going down to 29%, whereas a loss would raise it to a panic inducing 80%. It was a massive game.

Everton won an early penalty, which Dominic Calvert-Lewin converted to give us the lead. But Leicester scored 2 goals in quick succession and we were behind. Then, deep into first half stoppage time, Leicester City were awarded a penalty. To go 3–1 ahead would almost certainly kill off the game, and every Evertonian prayed for a miracle. Remarkably, the Everton (and England) goalkeeper Jordan Pickford saved James Maddison’s effort, restricting the damage and providing some hope. In the second half Alex Iwobi equalised and the game finished 2–2.

Therefore, according to Twenty First, we still had a 63% chance of being relegated. But having stared into the eyes of defeat, we would take that and move on.

Next up, away to high flying Brighton. Few thought we would get anything from this, but now that we had to, who knew? It’s the hope that kills you, ‘eh?

Abdoulaye Doucoure scored in the first minute, prompting a textbook counter attacking performance that delivered a remarkable 5–1 victory. Dwight McNeil celebrated before the 4th goal even went in, and then summoned the ghost of Geoff Hurst to blast a final goal into the top corner in injury time. Sheer joy!

Suddenly we are out of the relegation zone and people are sharing Al Pacino clips on social media.

There were now three fixtures remaining.

Just 2 points ahead of Leicester and Leeds, and we faced title juggernaut Manchester City at home. I created a spreadsheet to mark the potential outcomes from each game, and what every possible combination of results would do in terms of our league placing. If we lose to Man City and Leicester lose to Liverpool but Leeds draw at home to Newcastle then we’d need to beat Wolves away unless Leicester don’t win at Newcastle…

This type of thinking is cognitively demanding and emotionally draining. The constant question of “will we go down?” becomes an unbearable weight. Real time probability estimates, constant speculation, conflicts of opinion and the attempt to summarise the possible outcomes in a single, simple, easy to understand score out of 100 is alluring. But it doesn’t seem to help my mental wellbeing.

We lost 3–0 to City and went into the penultimate game knowing things were very tight. Away to Wolves looked like it was heading towards a disaster. Two injuries in the first half, and a poor goal against puts us 1–0 down. But deep, deep into added time, and with the final kick of the game Yerry Mina bundled home an equaliser and we’re not dead yet. We will go into the last round of fixtures with the situation in our own hands.

May 28th 2023.

Final game of the Premier League season.

All fixtures start at 4pm and everything gets resolved.

Everton are at home to Bournemouth, Leicester are at home to West Ham, and Leeds host Tottenham Hotspur. It’s a three way shoot out and I’m nervous as hell.

We had already booked a short family holiday so I’m at a campsite in France. I head to the bar to find a big screen to watch the game having asked for a couple of hours of alone time to watch the match and process the situation. Everyone is making predictions. It’s a battle of judgment about what will happen. The human urge to try to predict the future is impossible to ignore. Will we win? Will we need to win?

Everton are one of the biggest, most decorated clubs in English football. We were a founder member of the Premier League back in 1992, and have played in the highest division of English football every season since 1951. But since the glory years of the mid 1980s we have come close to relegation several times. In the previous season, 2022/23, we survived in our final home game. But that was survival with one game to spare. 2023 was different. It was going down to the final game of the season, and that’s only happened twice before. Once against Wimbledon in 1994 (also winning 3–2 after having been 2–0 down) and then against Coventry in 1998.

Ultimately, however, I recognise that I simply don’t know what is going to happen. There is no meaningful basis to summarise these events as a probability, and even if I could that would not necessarily help. If, as the former Archbishop of Canterbury, said, “wisdom is the ability to cope”, then it becomes clear: I don’t need to know what will happen, I just need to be able to cope.

Rather than follow my innate desire to assign probabilities, I recognised that this is fundamentally a binary situation with two possible outcomes. Although I did not know what would happen, I could imagine two alternative futures: one where we survive, and one where we get relegated.

Scenario planning helps us to confront uncertainty by preparing for imagined alternatives. So I considered what I would do in both outcomes:

• If we survived: I would have another pint to process things, then come back to the caravan and have a large glass of whisky to celebrate.
• If we got relegated: I would have another pint to process things, then come back to the caravan and have a large glass of whisky to commiserate.

Turns out, I’m going to behave the same in both scenarios.

This planning didn’t make me feel any happier, but it reduced my anxiety. I had generated a vivid image of what might happen, and decided on a plan of action for both situations.

I didn’t know what was going to happen. But I knew what to do.

I was now prepared.

At one point during the second half it was still 0–0 at Goodison Park, but Leicester were beating West Ham. As things stood we would be relegated. I saw myself buying the post match pint, then trudging wearily back to the caravan to sit on the deck with a whisky. It wasn’t what I wanted to do, but I knew what I would do. In the worst case scenario, I would not need to decide anything.

Will we score? What are the chances of scoring? I simply didn’t know. I was just trying to cope.

Then, in the 57th minute, Abdoulaye Doucoure hit a bullet into the Park End goal. As we approached full time the referee shocked the whole stadium by saying there will be 10 added minutes. In the 4th minute of injury time Bournemouth have a shot on the edge of the penalty area. This is it. Jordan Pickford saves! Finally the referee blows for full time.

Not joy, just pure relief. And another pitch invasion:

I then noticed my two children had been standing at the back of the bar for the last few minutes. The final whistle had been the signal that they could approach, and we celebrated together.

“Daddy, are you crying?”

I had another pint, and then another. I deviated a little from my planning, but that’s ok. Our plans are tentative, but provide the general apparatus to march into the future with confidence.

It was a good holiday, and I was grateful.

In times of extreme emotional stress, planning beats probability.

Update: You can read Part 2 here.