The goal of the Retrospectives Workshop is to encourage researchers to self-reflect on their previous work and trends in the field by publishing retrospectives. A retrospective is basically a blog post in which researchers critically analyze one of their past papers and its context in the field as a whole. If you have a paper where, looking back, you think "huh, there's a lot more I could say about that now" -- either you realized that your methodology was slightly flawed, or there's some results that took many tricks to work that you didn't fully specify, or there's new work that changes your intuition, or opinions on how your work was interpreted, or something else -- then consider writing a retrospective! This is a venue for authors to reflect on their previous publications, to talk about how their thoughts have changed following publication, to identify shortcomings in their analysis or results, and to discuss resulting extensions. We think it's important for this knowledge to be out in the open; when a paper doesn't accurately reflect the authors' current opinion about their work, other researchers may misunderstand the significance of the idea, or waste time building off of shaky results.
Players who dive in English football could face bans from next season. The Football Association will vote on retrospective action at its annual general meeting on Thursday and is expected to approve the proposal. The governing body would need the backing of the Premier League, the English Football League and the Professional Footballers' Association to introduce the rule change. But it is understood they are broadly supportive and already in agreement. Under the proposed new rules, a panel would review footage from the weekend each Monday looking for cases of simulation.
One of the timeliest, most urgent movies you can see in a Los Angeles theater next month was first shown nearly 50 years ago, not long after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and the devastating race riots that followed in its wake. Among the cities hit the hardest was Kansas City, Mo., which is where a 39-year-old documentary filmmaker named Frederick Wiseman turned his camera on the daily travails of police officers, most of them white, struggling to protect and serve their predominantly African American community. The result was a galvanizing but remarkably fair-minded documentary called "Law and Order" (1969), and the decades since have only clarified its insights and deepened its emotional force. Like so much of Wiseman's work over the last several decades (he's 86 and still makes about a film a year), the movie reveals a vivid, teeming human ecosystem in painfully intimate shards and fragments, each one snapping into a complex larger pattern of sociological and narrative meaning. But the prescient power of this particular documentary goes beyond its technique.