I mentioned this just after the Super Bowl, but it bears repeating.
According to the Boltzmann Brain Problem, it is more likely that the universe is a hallucination than that it actually exists. The theorem is named for Ludwig Boltzmann, and is based on the calculations of astrophysicists that in 10 to the 10th power to the 68th power - so a double exponential - years removed from the Big Bang, the Higgs Field (which gives particles mass) will have long since disintegrated. Eventually what particles are left will form a brain and recreate actual thought. So that our thoughts and experiences are all the future random constituents of that matter. And if it wasn't clear to you after seven championships, that future brain belongs to Tom Brady. We - you, me, and all our shared experiences, are all just figments of his great cosmic imagination.
I mean, just look at his life right now. Has anyone in the history of the human species ever ridden as high as he is? Or anywhere close to it? He not only wins his seventh ring, he gets all 22 of his starters back, which has never happened with the previous 54 Super Bowl champions. The guy he beat in the NFC championship game, the one who was supposedly the one true GOAT in many eyes, is adopting his training methods. He not only gets to face his old team this year, his dad is proudly talking shit about the game already like a wrestler promoting a PPV match. And he's just over 1,100 yards shy of Drew Brees' passing record, which means he'll likely break it in Gillette underneath the six banners he hung there.
But I digress. The point of this blog (and I still believe I can get to that point; thanks for bearing with me) is that Brady's perfect life even extends to his sisters and their kids. His niece not only drops two monster bombs in a single game, she does it against Arizona. And on the eve of Rob Gronkowski's birthday. Just weeks after we saw Gronk visit campus and catch a dropped a different sort of bomb:
So in a single Tweet, Brady gets to tie together about five threads, all while carrying on his continuing sweet, sweet bromance with his bestie. It's just too perfect to be real. No one has this happen to them. And no one has this much social media skill. This can only be the waking dream of a vast, cosmic intelligence, shaping our reality in a such a way as to please itself.
I'm not good enough at science to be able to prove it. But if you've got a better explanation, I'd love to hear it. Good luck trying to come up with a theory to rationalize a life this perfect.