Hal Stern's thoughts on the economy, software, services, technology, and snowmen. Hal Stern: The Morning Snowman

I seem to have struck a chord with James Governer, analyst and founder of Red Monk, with my suggestions that there might not be a future in bureaucracy as we know it. By all means, governing bodies in both the public and private sectors will continue -- must continue -- to exist. What I'm suggesting is that non-core functions for any business are likely to end up aggregated where they are performed cheaper, faster and better for most employees.

Visibility, accountability and flexibility are the key features of this new feedback loop. There's still control of the processes, but when the works get gummed up there's no organizational chart behind which to hide. Attempts to create data-based roadblocks are subverted by the road itself -- a.k.a. the network. Invoke process for the sake of exerting power, and you're effecting a form of censorship (all together now: which the Internet treats as a routing failure).

I'm not suggesting, as James intimates, that we should replace our existing backoffices with large outsourcing contracts. Most of the large outsourcing deals I've seen result in networking nothing more than variable lease payments. I would like to see more companies build the necessary identity, entitlement and data access control infrastructure to allow more flexibility in the delivery of non-core services. A few years ago the trade press called this the "virtual corporation"; today one of its monikers is "using salesforce.com."

I've received at least a dozen e-mails asking me if I'm donning the sackcloth and ashes now that the Yankees' season is over. I'm not. Sure, I'm disappointed that the pinstripes looked like pinheads dropping four straight, but it was good baseball and rounded out an exciting season. I don't own the Yankees; I don't play for them; I don't manage the team (not even in an online fantasy league). Losing doesn't take any money out of my pocket or even upset my career options for next season.

I was watching Game 7 of the Yankees-Red Sox series while having dinner with Claire Giordano, Queen of Various Open Source Projects at Sun. (N.B. to Sun HR: That's not really her title). Claire spent some years at Brown University so she's a de jure citizen of the Red Sox Nation, although she can claim plausible deniability. Claire asked me point blank "What's the big deal? Why do you care so much?" Claire is very, very perceptive, and secretly rejoicing about the Sox.

Nearly a week of thought later, I think I know the answer. It's not borne out of bringing accolades or profit to ourselves. Sports give us a way to mark time, and through each small victory we notch our personal timelines. It's significantly more plesaant - but no more important - than remembering where we were during major events or national crises. I can recall each detail of my viewership of Game 5 of the 2000 World Series. It coincided very closely to the top of the dot-com bubble, but I remember more about Tino Martinez than stock prices or hot companies.

Even in current times of free agency and rosters more closely resembling stock portfolios rather than a community sampling, allegiance to our local - or favorite - baseball team allows us each spring to hope eternal.

Youth sports parents have received significant quantities of bad press in the last few years. Much of it is deserved: parents attacking coaches or each other don't set a good example for their kids. I have zero scientific evidence divining the root cause of this escalation in bad behavior, but I'm sure the growth in competitive travel programs along with increasing hopes that excellence in sports leads to a discounted college education, have something to do with it. Most of us just need to relax and have fun. Most of the kids have forgotten the win or loss before the scoresheet is mailed.

Whether it's exhilirating or terrifying for you to watch your own child play, the hardest spectator seat in the house goes to the hockey goalie's parent. The goalie is seen as the last line of defense. But it's unfair for all eyes to turn to the goalie when the red light goes on, because the goal tells you that the other five skaters didn't play defense or weren't in position before the shot went off.

This weekend we had a game against one of our local rivals. Their starting goalie's father sat directly behind the scorer's table, at center ice. He gave his son the respect -- and support -- of not sitting at the far end of the bleachers, and then switching sides at the end of the period. The loudest thing in his immediate vicinity was his bright orange hat. His son played very well, and he made goaltending look easy with fluid motions and excellent line of sight to the puck. 17 minutes and 11 saves worth of shut-out hockey, it was time to switch goalies, with some nice crowd support. Orange Hat clapped for every player, and not once did I hear his slightly accented voice. In short, worthy models of how to play and watch the game.

What's the big deal, you ask? In Orange Hat's day job, he wears a helmet with the 4 initials of his children written across the back. His son wears his father's number (30) on his back. Above the number, in 4-inch high blue and white letters, is the name that's key to the story: Brodeur. When your grandfather was an Olympic ice hockey medalist, and your father brought home the Olympic gold medal in ice hockey along with three Stanley Cups and a Vezina Trophy, there are great expectations for you. Hats off -- orange or otherwise -- to Marty and Anthony for just having fun.