There are things that you can, on some level, know are true but not fully internalize until you re-experience that truth multiple times. We all know that there is a seemingly unending supply of free and paid educational instruction available on the internet, from the broadest mathematical pedagogy to instructions for replacing a single grommet on a specific appliance make and model. We are awash in content, much of it explicitly designed to aid in our self-guided educational journeys. You and I already know this, but every few years I feel like I re-live a moment of awe at what is costlessly or near-costlessly made available to anyone with an internet connection.
As you probably know, I am an economist and a sports junkie. In both my professional and sports endeavors, I tend to dabble in scattered interests until I get narrowly obsessed with something. Sometimes this takes the form of a 5 year research project, other times it means I become a hockey goalie for 15 years. For both hockey and most of the technical aspects of my economic research, I am almost exclusively “self-taught”, though I’m not sure that is all that unusual anymore. Woe be unto the applied economist who thinks an afternoon’s cap-and-gown affair means they are done struggling to learn new econometrics.
The corridor of athletic activity available to me has narrowed with injury and age, so like many before me I have turned to golf. At first reluctantly, I’ll admit, but now I am fully on board. I’ve constrained my financial investment, using (until very recently) entirely used equipment, found balls, and opting for less expensive courses. As I’ve progressed, what has once again shocked me is not just how easy it is to acquire instruction, but the incredible nuance and narrowness of that instruction. If something isn’t working for me, I can simply describe the problem I am experiencing into google and a dozen videos diagnosing and remedying the problem will instantly appear. If I want to understand the biomechanics or even physics behind my swing to build intuition, I can watch 100s of hours of videos. If I want advice geared towards players with similar personal characteristics, habits, or preferences, it all appears before me. It is not without exaggeration to suggest that I am receiving better instruction as a 46-year old amateur with one good knee than all but the absolutely most privleged in the world would have received 30 years ago.
This is all the more important when placed in the context of the rising cost of personal instruction. The price of passive instruction may be rapidly approaching zero, but that doesn’t insulate active instruction from Baumol’s cost disease. The cost of having someone’s time all to your self has never been higher, which means if you want your instruction curated, the regulatory device of interpersonal obligation and sunk costs, or simply an upscale babysitter that lets you feel like a good parent while you scroll your phone for an hour, you’re going to pay more than ever.
The only downside to being able to costlessly access our near-infinite Library of Alexandria, if there must be one, is the guilt I feel as I steadily improve. Every increment of improvement is evidence that I chose to get better at golf instead every other dimension of my professional and private self. The double-edged sword of opportunity cost haunts me, reminding me that everything I learn comes at the expense of what I chose not to learn. I could have learned about the China Trade Shock, the latest reason why every identification strategy ever employed in an economics paper is wrong, Mandarin, or how to cook rissotto for my wife.
But I chose golf. There’s probably insight into myself to be be had there, but some lessons are best left unlearned.
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