Asimo
Asimo
By A.J. Russo
On May 15th, Honda’s Asimo robot conducted the Detroit Symphony Orchestra at a special performance with renowned cellist, Yo-Yo Ma.
Yes, you read correctly. A robot conducted a symphony orchestra.
With the guidance of Asimo, the musicians performed The Impossible Dream from the Broadway musical Man of La Mancha to a packed hall of music lovers.
Before starting the piece, Asimo greeted the audience with a friendly wave saying “Hello everyone.”
While conducting, it gestured with one or both hands and nodded as appropriate, even took a bow at the end of the performance to applause and shouts from the crowd.
But let’s face it, Asimo couldn’t actually respond to the orchestra. The performance was achieved by mimicking the actions of a video of Detroit Symphony’s education director Charles Burke performing the same piece six months earlier. In order to be effective, a conductor must feel the music, develop a relationship with the musicians, and react to emotional needs at a moments notice.
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During one of the later innings of a recent game between the Orioles and Tampa Bay, with the Rays winning 1-0, man on first for the O’s, Aubry Huff lined a shot down the first base line which appeared to go over the bag, but was called foul by the ump. This hit would have tied the game, instead, the Birds lost 1-0.
Examples like this happen every day in baseball. Umpires making bad calls that cost games.
Purists argue that umpires are somehow part of the game. If an ump calls a ball, which is really a strike, a team should accept this and make adjustments in pitching and batting accordingly. If a foul ball is called fair, well, that’s part of the game. Sometimes the calls go your way, sometimes they don’t.
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Imagine a spring summer night at Camden Yards. The sky is clear, a cool gentle breeze flowing across the field from the Warehouse. It’s top of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded for the Yankees. The Orioles lead by a run. The batter steps to the plate. The count is full. The crowd is on its feet.
The pitch. A slow curve, which paralyzes the batter, crosses the outside corner of the plate. Asimo, perched behind the catcher, invisible lasers marking the strike zone, with voice linked to the stadium sound system, yells, “Strike Three!”
The batter drops his bat and lowers his head in disgust. The Yankee manager raises his arms in disbelief. But there are no “Earl Weaver-like” antics. No one charges toward the techno-ump to argue.
Instead, the crowd disperses in a climate of sportsmanship and faith, knowing that the call was correct.
Okay, so we probably won’t see Asimo behind the plate or in the outfield any time soon. But the game can only be enhanced when technology is used to get it right.
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