Headlines shouting about VAR arriving at Wimbledon might look like they are about accuracy or a brave new world, but there’s a bigger trend if you look deeper. Let’s face it, aside from a couple of teething issues with new tech last year, tennis has demonstrated a big commitment, over many years, to embracing tech to make the game fairer without overwhelming the match. 

Changes have been introduced regularly while the umpire – and the technology that supports them – have been kept both visible and audible. The upshot is that tennis has quietly boiled the frog; line judges have gone; reviews have expanded; challenges have become audience participation. The shift hasn’t been dramatic, but the cumulative effect is that more of the decision making now sits within systems rather than people. 

Arguably, with VAR, Football rushed in and has spent the subsequent years unpicking its early mistake. The technology itself was rarely the issue; the friction came from how it sat alongside human judgement and the fact that many decisions in football are inherently subjective. A ref would make a call which, if challenged, would be scrutinized by a separate team. They would review the decision, return a verdict which the official then had to report back. A process that does little to help their gravitas in a sport where referees don’t always see the most cordial side of players.  

In tennis, the review system will mean that players can’t challenge everything and the umpire is given the tools to inform their call, even if the outcome is increasingly shaped by what the system reveals. This means players are asking the person to review their own decision based on better information and longer to consider.  

The Kartal incident last year, where the officiating tech was accidentally switched off, is something everyone wants to avoid. The error was deeply unfortunate and the lack of player recourse felt massively unjust, not simply because an error occurred, but because there was no clear mechanism to challenge the system that had made it. Sports fans – and athletes – can stomach most things if they are fair but get reasonably outraged when they are not.  

Wimbledon’s response is good and reflects its long-standing, impressive relationship with technology. They don’t step back but strive to improve and make the system even tighter. That is the direction of travel across sport among the smarter sports rights holders. 

Results are everything in sport and vital to the next era are the brands who build, own and govern the systems that clarify officials’ decisions. As the tech trend deepens, the logical end point is that it won’t be the umpire but the system that decides whether the call stands.  Once the system becomes the arbiter, the person in the chair is no longer the authority but simply the face of it.

Hands up if you thought McLaren was going to dominate the opening races of the new Formula 1 season. Now keep your hands up if you expected the 2026 regulations to shake up the competitive order quite this dramatically. 

Yup, most of us got it wrong. 

The early headlines belong to Mercedes, thanks to a rather elegant interpretation of the new rules. While much of the grid approached the 2026 electrical power unit regulations through the familiar lens of engine performance, Toto Wolff’s engineers appear to have designed their response around something slightly different: the management of energy across the lap. 

The new regulations dramatically increase the influence of electrical deployment on lap time. Everyone in the paddock understands that. What seems to distinguish Mercedes is not that they recognized this but that they built the entire car architecture around it earlier and more coherently. 

Rather than chasing marginal gains in horsepower, Mercedes appear to have prioritised how energy flows through the car: how it is harvested under braking, stored efficiently and deployed precisely when a performance boost is needed.  

That philosophy led to a tightly integrated design in which the engine, battery systems, aerodynamics and control software coordinate rather than operate as separate components. The result is a car capable of deploying electrical energy with unusual efficiency across the lap rather than relying purely on bursts of peak output. 

The practical consequence is that Russell and Antonelli put the pedal to the metal, the power they need is there without jeopardizing their reserves during the rest of the race.  

This is not the first time that clever reading of the rulebook has reshaped F1’s competitive order. Brawn GP’s double diffuser in 2009 and Red Bull’s blown diffuser a year later followed precisely the same pattern: one team spots the opportunity embedded in a new regulation cycle, wins the early races, and the rest of the grid begins the long process of catching up. 

The politically enforced two-race hiatus may prove interesting beyond any fall-outs over budget. In a sport where development cycles move at ferocious speed, even a short interruption offers rivals valuable time to analyse Mercedes’ architecture and refine their own interpretations. 

These columns have often talked about governing bodies needing to keep pace with tech-led developments, a trend that F1 bucks impressively. However, the calibre of the tech whizzes under their jurisdiction is such that even they need to take remedial action… and what a fascinating technology story that writes for their sport.

Sports bodies have spent the past decade collecting extraordinary amounts of data about athletes … while remaining oddly unclear about who actually owns it. 

The European Union’s Data Act is about to sharpen that question considerably. This matters because the rulebook governing performance data, one of sport’s fastest growing commercial assets, is about to change. 

At first glance the regulation looks like a piece of digital housekeeping; manufacturers of connected devices must allow the users of those devices to access the data they generate and share it with others. In most industries that will be a simple compliance exercise. But not in sport.   

In 2023 we (The STA Group) hosted a closed industry discussion on athlete data ownership; is it the athletes, those who collect it or those who pay to have it harvested? It was legally, morally and logically fascinating – the questions, once raised, were all obvious but which were right? The room was evenly split before the conversation began. Two hours later it was still evenly split, with half the room changing their minds along the way. 

That tells you everything you need to know about the issue. 

Athletes generate the data; clubs pay for the technology; federations govern the sport; certain sponsors might have a commercial interest; broadcasters and bookies can enrich the fan experience. However, no one is exactly rushing to deal with the legal elephant in the room. 

With sportspeople tracked, monitored and evaluated at every turn, including while they sleep, there is an extraordinary volume of information available. However, the tech has outstripped governance, again, and the issue of ownership has never properly been resolved.  

Underlying data has been known to remain locked inside proprietary systems and more than one club has invested heavily in technology only to discover that exporting raw data, combining it with other sources or analysing it elsewhere is far harder than expected. 

The Data Act challenges that model directly. 

Teams will have the right to access the data produced by the devices they use and to share that information with third parties. In practical terms a club could export tracking data from one provider and analyse it using independent sports science software rather than remaining tied to a single ecosystem. 

For sports organizations this increases leverage; data that once sat inside vendor platforms becomes something clubs can organize, combine and analyse on their own terms. For technology companies the implications are less comfortable as closed ecosystems will need to evolve. 

The deeper debate has not gone away and it still has not yet been determined where the ultimate rights to athlete data should sit. The EU has simply ensured that the argument will now take place in a more open arena. 

Sport has become very good at collecting data. It is about to discover whether it is equally good at governing it. 

If you ignore coaching data in 2026, you are choosing to lose more often than you need to. 

In a range of recent high profile matches, some players looked like they needed recovery, not another game. Fatigue is not a moral failing. It is measurable. Load, collision count, high speed metres, recovery curves, sleep, neuromuscular response. These are not abstract ideas. They are daily dashboards that need to be considered.  

Some well known teams have parted ways with analysts and lost. Not solely because of that choice but removing structured insight before important competitions is not a neutral act. It must have reduced clarity and in elite sport, clarity matters. 

Sports tech is now a multibillion-dollar industry which was built on something more substantial than simply ‘marginal gains’. Data changes outcomes, reduces guesswork and exposes bias. In business we are all prone to perpetuating our myths by making the same choices repeatedly, so to have hierarchy challenged and uncomfortable questions raised about the decisions we are making – whether that is what time we communicate or who makes the team sheet – is an essential check and balance.   

Any boardroom analyst will confirm that the shift from instinct-led to data-led management is not easy. When the numbers arrive they rarely flatter legacy thinking and raise patterns that fly in the face of what you fundamentally think. It’s uncomfortable for anyone to have science trump sentiment, but it’s essential for growth. 

Recently, I have heard several high profile coaches dismiss data with surprising confidence. I concede that their experience is hard-won and they know their players – and these things matter. But insight without measurement drifts into mythology, and what gets measured gets done. 

Worse still, I have seen coaches explain data in with startling – no, shocking – inaccuracy. If that level of understanding sits inside elite environments, then the issue is not that sport has too much data, it is that some leaders still do not understand what it is for. Data does not replace judgement. It sharpens it, providing counterweight to ego. 

No CEO would tell a finance team to ignore forecasting because they have a good gut instinct. No airline captain would switch off instrumentation mid-flight because they have flown the route before. Yet sport still allows romance even at the price of jeopardy.  

We are now in an era where there is a strong seam of sophisticated tech-natives. They have grown up with wearables and digital platforms and trust the insights that they provide. They understand that success doesn’t belong to advisors who ‘feel’ performance the best, it will belong to those who feel it, measure it, and act on what the numbers reveal.   

A new generation of automated match reporting tools has arrived, capable of turning raw sports data into structured match report copy in seconds. The latest example comes from Japan in the form of SpoLive Interactive. The clever folk there have created a one-click reporting engine which converts match stats into publishable drafts almost instantly. Journalism that once took hours now takes moments. For clubs juggling fixtures, comms, sponsors, and staffing gaps, and ever-stretched budgets, this represents serious operational relief. 

This is, by any practical measure, impressive technology. It solves a real problem cleanly. At grassroots and second tier levels especially, it may do something quietly radical: ensure that matches which might have been previously overlooked can now make it on record.  

And yet. On a grander level, this bothers me.  

Sport reporting has never been purely about serving up bare facts and match day action has inspired some wonderful prose. A fixture is not just an event, it can be a very human or cultural moment. The very best sports writers can make a missed tackle feel like theatre, turn a routine innings into literature and reflect the true angst of failure. They do not write about what happened, they explain why it matters.   

Many will welcome the functional delivery of sports reporting and that it is handled instantly and cheaply…although the press release doesn’t make it clear if off-the-ball incidents, close calls or similar events are covered by this whizzy new tool. Regardless, there is remaining value in tone of voice, interpretation, and authority. In short, the ability to encapsulate what you thought but in a way you hadn’t actually realized you thought it …or crystalize the reason why you vehemently disagreed.  

If scores are a commodity, the perspective around them should still have currency. Hopefully these tools do not replace sports writers, they will simply separate typists from artists. 

As a solution to volume, this tool – and those like it – look pretty cool. As a replacement for craft, they are irrelevant except in their potential to deprive cub reporters of the opportunity to learn their craft.  

Future media rooms will almost certainly include algorithms. They are tireless, accurate, and scalable. but if sport is drama, and drama is emotion, then reporting still requires a human note somewhere in the composition. 

In the end efficiency may dish up the facts in short order, but sports connoisseurs appreciate it when champagne is served.  

The predictive power of modern sports data is staggering. At last week’s Smarter Sports Review launch, insights around forecasting accuracy suggested the line between uncanny prediction and near certainty is becoming increasingly thin. 

Taleb’s concept of the black swan argues that humans systematically underestimate uncertainty and overtrust models built on historical data. In sport, the improbable is not a flaw in the system. It’s part of the system and an entire industry of belief has been built on it. Upsets are the moments that create meaning, memory, mythology and belief. Leicester City’s Premier League title, Greece’s Euros win, Japan’s Rugby World Cup upset… these are the moments that surprise us, make us care and expand what we thought was possible. 

As this trend develops, the industry faces a subtle but significant question: what happens to sport when surprise, belief and – to some degree – hope, are engineered out of the equation? 

From a commercial perspective, improved prediction is attractive – and valuable; rights are easier to price, betting markets become more efficient, scheduling more precise. But to focus on that is to overlook the shared cultural experience, powered by uncertainty, emotion, and for some, prayer. Jeopardy is not a byproduct of sport, it is core.   

Fans accept – reluctantly – that their team, athlete or horse risks being outclassed but they turn up anyway. The call of the dream fixture, the upset, the historic win is strong. Excellence can be compelling, but only when the outcome still feels alive.  

This raises another issue, what happens to fan engagement, or player mindset, when certainty is telegraphed in advance and belief is either reinforced or removed from the equation? 

The risk is not that predictive data makes sport unfair, but that it makes it feel finished before it begins. There is a massive difference between sensing where a contest might go and being told how it ends. Anticipation sells tickets, inevitability does not. 

Sport therefore faces a new era, data has proved powerful but it must also be assessed on its ability to sustain drama, preserve competitive tension, and keep the door open to the improbable. Because if data keeps picking the winner, what exactly are we turning up to watch? 

Tech-doping is a perfectly reasonable thing for a governing body to legislate against. Tech-led safety is not.  

The recent brouhaha around Team GBs skeleton helmet was a shining example of the institutional failure where the upper echelons of a sport failed to keep pace.  

The British Bobsleigh and Skeleton Association did exactly what the system asks of elite sport: invest in technology, collaborate with adjacent industries, and push marginal gains legally.  The BBSA were supported by UK Sport funding, followed due process, submitted designs, tested rigorously, and still fell afoul of the International Bobsleigh and Skeleton Federation.  

Instead of being focussed on preparing their athletes, they found themselves facing CAS.  

The decision by the IBSK to block the helmet based on shape reinforces a long running tension in sport. Rules are often written to control risk and fairness, but they frequently lag engineering reality. In this case, dangerously so as the BBSK believes the helmet has tangible safety benefits. Which governing body wouldn’t want its athletes to compete as safely as possible? 

If the IBSK wanted to block the helmet based on aesthetic or geometric grounds, then they are clearly saying that pretty beats safe.   

Taking a wider view, when medal favourites are affected by such decisions, there are wider implications such as performance, funding, brand and fairness. When governing bodies block late-stage innovation, the downstream cost is borne by athletes, teams, sponsors, funders and fans.  

Technology is not a side show in elite sport. It increasingly shapes outcomes (and must do so fairly), safety, funding efficiency, and competitive balance. In this case the issue caused controversy but there are other fallouts when tech, governance and performance operate in siloes.  

Sport wants innovation but those at the top often struggle to absorb it. Until governance evolves at the same pace as engineering, stories like this will keep repeating and medals, safety gains, and public trust will remain collateral damage. 

The Ashes in Australia are a big deal and every England supporter I know was excited for the series.  

The reaction to how it unfolded has been predictably emotional, with blame distributed generously across players, coaches, conditions, pitches, and planets. One thing, however, has been largely absent from the postmortem. Data. 

England’s 2005 and 2009 Ashes wins were underpinned by rigorous data and analytical work. It went awol in Australia. A year ago, I had listened to someone in the coaching set up decry ‘the landgrab for sports tech’ and how ‘coaches be confident about their instincts and not rely on data’. It’s not an entirely unreasonable position but somewhere along the way, a baby was very clearly thrown out with the bathwater. Certainly, a couple of key data analysts moved on.  

Narrative, bravado, instinct and belief are no substitute for evidence-led decision making. Bazball may well have restored confidence, aggression, and entertainment value, but while aggressive cricket may win sessions and headlines, it’s not a strategy for away victories.  

If proof were needed, just look to how Europe won the last Ryder Cup. Whilst some attributed the win to the European players’ familiarity with the same ball brand, the truth is less romantic. There was a vast amount of data-led preparation … which built on the vast amount of data-led preparation in Rome. On both occasions it drove pairings, strategy, recovery, and psychology. And silverware.  

Cricket has fewer variables and longer decision cycles than many elite sports, which should make analytics more, not less, valuable.  

One lesson – among the many that were doubtless learned Down Under – is that great sport starts with great data. Add the bravado once the basics are in place.  

When an event bills itself as the next frontier in sport, you’d hope the minimum requirement is that it sparks excitement or, failing that, curiosity. For me The Enhanced Games have managed neither, they’ve just left me very uneasy. 

The inaugural event lands in Las Vegas this May and will openly permit performance enhancing drugs administered under medical supervision. 

If World Records fall, the message is clear: enhancement works.  

The athletes involved will be operating in tightly controlled conditions, with doctors, protocols and close monitoring. Young people watching at home who feel inspired to emulate winners will not. They will be going it alone with whatever looks vaguely helpful and probably with whatever is cheapest and easiest to find. 

Supervised doping feels like playing fast and loose with athletes to manufacture spectacle. Surely sport is meant to be about excellence, not voyeurism. Once you cross that line, you are no longer testing honest human potential, you are staging something closer to The Hunger Games. 

There is also a competitive absurdity here; do athletes signing up now automatically lose out because they are only just beginning their enhancement programs? Is there an arms race clock already ticking? 

Then there is the question that should really unsettle governing bodies…if the Enhanced Games fail to deliver a cascade of shattered records, how effective is anti-doping currently?  

British swimming, Ben Proud, reported rationale for taking part is that he is tired of chasing parity with athletes who doped and were never caught. It is a persuasive argument and one which may yet prove prophetic.  

Will I turn off in disgust when May arrives? No. I want to see if the genie is in or out of the medicine bottle. If this event proves palatable the commercial implications are vast, not least of all with sponsorships from pharma, healthcare and technology brands. In turn, the broader sporting landscape could shift faster than anyone has properly considered. 

Whether it proves to be a circus or a template remains to be seen, I know which I’d prefer. 

In marathon running, the myth is that it is all about the athlete. The truth is more interesting. The four great stages of this popular test of endurance – London, Berlin, Chicago and New York – each present participants with their specific challenge through surface, gradient and rhythm, and modern technology in footwear and apparel is increasingly designed to meet those specifics. Performance, in other words, is a negotiation between physiology and the environment. 

Berlin remains the most-world record friendly because everything there is engineered for continuity. The course is flat, the camber is gentle, the asphalt is consistent, and the turns are forgiving. That stability is gold for today’s racing shoes, whose plates and foams deliver their best returns when ground interaction doesn’t change underfoot. Berlin hands athletes the luxury of running in a straight line, biomechanically and psychologically. For the marathon data-fixated, the sport’s fastest points cluster there. 

Chicago is also rapid, but with more surface texture. Its presents just enough variety to demand micro-adjustments in loading, and the city’s grid exposes athletes to subtle shifts in wind and shade. Those in the know recommend to “go early” on the course, but what separates a good day from a great one is often comfort management; aerodynamic fabrics, the thermoregulation, and the ability to keep mechanically tidy when the asphalt refuses to be entirely uniform. 

London sits somewhere in the middle. Its early miles are quick and clean while later ones are shaped by long straights and gentle rises that quietly tax the legs. The course is fast but not frictionless. This is where tech-led apparel earns real value: shoes that retain stability deep into fatigue, fabrics that reduce heat stress, uppers that hold the foot without over-correcting stride. London rewards those who can stay organized when form wants to unravel. 

And then there is New York, the least predictable of the four. It’s bridges, inclines and harsher surfaces offer their own challenges, but the crunch is a layout that refuses to let athletes fall into rhythm. It tests resilience more than pace. Technology still helps, but the emphasis shifts from bounce to control: footwear that keeps athletes centred, fabrics that adapt to changing microclimates, and apparel systems that prevent athletes from haemorrhaging energy long before Central Park. 

What the Big Four demonstrate is that endurance running has entered a genuinely technical era. Surfaces, gradients and materials shape outcomes just as much as tactics. If the course is the song, but increasingly the tools athletes bring with them…shoes, fabrics, and data…determine how it’s sung.