The principle of parsimony

You may not believe in the human soul. But a dead dog weighs the same as a live dog, while a human being weighs 21 grams less if it's dead. That's the weight of the soul. This was the conclusion reached by Duncan MacDougall's experiments at the beginning of the 21st century. A sophisticated and complex system of scales around the beds of six dying patients led him to this conclusion. Then came the canine evidence. All this, about the fact that we had souls and that they weighed 21 grams, gave rise to numerous controversies. But in the face of these controversies, and since no one could provide a better explanation for the change in weight between a dead human being and a live one, what was called the principle of parsimony was applied, which has nothing to do with the defending style of Ronald Araújo, the only center back who defends better post-match than during the match. Returning to the principle of parsimony, it tells us that when two theories, under equal conditions, have the same consequences, the simpler theory is more likely to be true. So it's easier for those 21 grams of difference to be the soul because the other possibilities are more complex.

Having proven the existence of the soul, the current Barça situation seems more understandable to me. Faith, which is believing in things that can't be proven, has a lot to do with this team because Hansi Flick probably made them believe they were better than they were until they became that. It happens very often in sports and in life. Belief gives you those extra inches in a jump. Personally, I find it harder to believe in yourself than in God, because going to take a penalty knowing that God loves you and is watching over you and that you're one of his own must give you absolute strength (especially if the goalkeeper is an atheist, or Sommer). But this team didn't have a soul, and now it has one. And they think they're invincible, and even when they lose, they are.

Hansi Flick made them believe they were better than they were until they were.

Work and faith. A lot of both. And a coach with barely any ego who speaks English so we can understand him. Perhaps we had too many geniuses, teachers, philosophers, your girlfriend's brothers, and quarrelsome friends, and we needed someone to remind us that football is a sport, a game, and a mystery. It's mysterious that they play so well, that they all seem so un-star-like, and it's almost commonplace to see players transformed into their own fantasy (Raphinha, Ferran, Eric Garcia...), but since Tuesday night I've been thinking about Gerard Martín, that body that without the calm and confidence of his coach since the Copa del Rey final would be 21 grams lighter.