When the Golf Analysis Returns 'N/A': A Lesson on Truth and Data

I just received an analysis report from an automated system, used to evaluate an article about golf. Every item in the report was marked 'N/A - insufficient information'. No golfer's name, no tournament name, no statistics, nothing to analyze. Yet the report was several pages long, with risk assessment tables and warnings like 'low confidence'. I asked myself: Are we living in an era where data is worshipped like a deity, but when there is no data, we create reports about the lack of data? As a reporter who has covered sports for over three decades, I went to Moscow for the 2026 World Cup and witnessed the Japanese team's infamous tactical fouling to get through on fair-play points. I overheard that story in the stadium tunnel, and wrote an analysis based on what I called an 'indefinable feeling'. It got 2.1 million reads. But had I sat in front of a computer and waited for an automated system to extract data, I would have had nothing but a string of soulless numbers. That report reminded me of the volleyball match between Hisamitsu Springs and NEC Red Rockets in the 2026-2026 season. I was invited as a guest commentator for the V.League, and I abandoned my script to spend three sets analyzing 19-year-old hitter Kotona Hayashi. That's when I realized that discovering a new star is more interesting than commenting on a game's outcome. Viewership rose by 12%, but that number said nothing about the look in her eyes as she glanced at me through the camera. We Vietnamese have a rising sports scene. But what happens when young reporters no longer go to the stadiums, no longer sit in the stands to hear the crying of fans? They will only read analyses full of N/A, and mistake that for journalism. I am not an expert, just someone who has seen too many matches to know that numbers cannot replace the human eye. A few years ago, when a Vietnamese open golf tournament had no data tracking system, reporters still wrote stories through their own observations. They described an amateur golfer's swing as if it were a national secret. The result was vivid, emotional writing that touched readers' hearts. That report was technically correct, but soulless. It shows the laziness of automation, when humans delegate the act of feeling to algorithms. In this current season, as Vietnamese golfers strive to compete internationally, I want to say: Grab a camera, go to the golf course, listen to the stories from groundskeepers and caddies. If you don't, you'll receive only a short answer from your own system: N/A. It's time we ask again: If data says nothing, are we entitled to create? Or should we admit that sport is art, and art cannot be measured by any number?