Schrödinger’s Baseball

There is a concept in quantum physics called Schrödinger’s Cat. Conceived in 1935 by Erwin Schrödinger, the basic premise is that there exists a cat inside a box that also contains a vial of poison and a mechanism that may or may not shatter that vial, killing the cat. Until you open the box, you cannot know whether or not the cat is alive, and therefore it is simultaneously alive and dead – with one situation becoming reality when the box is opened.

In my family, the same concept applies to professional football. Until a game is watched (which is typically well after the game occurs in real time), my father’s team has simultaneously won and lost; it isn’t until the recorded game is viewed that the score becomes reality. I call this Schrödinger’s Football.

Let me put this in scientific terms:

Schrödinger’s Football

(thought experiment) When the score of a professional football game is considered (according to quantum mechanics and dads everywhere) to be simultaneously winning and losing until the Tivo-ed game is watched.

Beyond the laws of physics, belief in Schrödinger’s Football is dependent on unhealthy investment in sports teams and irrational superstition, both of which can be found in strong supply among the members of my family. Just last night, I attempted to Skype my parents about finding a career only to have my Dad leave the call ten minutes in because “the Eagles are playing!” My dad supports a strange conglomeration of Philadelphia and San Francisco football teams, with my brothers following suit, and my mom constantly poking fun at their often ill-rewarded dedication. And though I also roll my eyes at the NFL, I am a big believer in Schrödinger’s Baseball. (As you can extrapolate, the same definition holds across sports.)

My version of the paradox, however, has a slight modification. While I don’t often record baseball games, I believe that my observance of the game modifies the reality of the score in a highly specific way: if I am able to watch or listen to the game, my team will win. (My team, by the way, is the San Francisco Giants, and if you support anyone else, you’re trash and so’s your city.) This is where the element of superstition comes in – and you needn’t look any further than professional baseball to witness superstition in action. There are fans with lucky socks, lucky jerseys or even lucky family members; there are players who tap a pattern next to home base, avoid stepping on the foul line or only eat Taco Bell before games. My personal superstition has simply to do with my ability to observe the game and therefore construct its reality. Some may say that I don’t have a magical ability to lend professional baseball players my energy through concentrating really hard. Others would say that my team has lost many times while I was watching, therefore objectively disproving my theory. All I can offer in response is an emphasis on the term irrational superstition. That, and the firm conviction that theoretical physics is on my side.

Call me crazy, but it’s based in science.

Graphic by Annie Warner, Giants’ logo via.