THE British like being on the side of the underdog. This affinity has more than a whiff of historical hypocrisy; the British empire, a distinctly top-doggy affair, was hardly noted for its enthusiastic encouragement of the downtrodden. Still, it is a genuine part of the national character. So when, on the evening of May 2nd, Leicester City were anointed champions of the English Premier League, a football competition, the country was united in delight. Bookmakers, to their subsequent regret, had set the odds of such a victory at 5,000 to 1. Leicester’s triumph was heralded as the greatest underdog story in sporting history, and Britain rejoiced in it.

The world is short enough of occasions for joy that to disparage such a blameless one may seem harsh. No one would begrudge the long-suffering supporters of Leicester, or the citizens of this East Midlands city (see article), their moment of jubilation. But a delight in seeing the expected undone can be a pathway to poor thinking. It encourages people to value the quality of narratives over the desirability of outcomes; to indulge in unrealistic assessments of their own potential; and to set too little store by one of the greatest achievements of civilisation: predictability.

There is a fairy-tale appeal to stories in which people vanquish great odds. But the tellers of tales are able to stack the deck and deal the winning hand to someone deserving. Real life is not so accommodating; having a good story in no way equates to being a good person. Lance Armstrong’s comeback from cancer was a profoundly inspiring narrative, but it did not make him a deserving winner of the yellow jersey. The fact that many pundits who wrote off Donald Trump last summer are now eating crow does not make his rise admirable, desirable or amusing. It is undeniably plucky of North Korea, despite the challenges it faces, to have got through some preliminary heats in the nuclear-arms race. So what?

INTERACTIVE: Flying foxes - footballing pay and performance Surely Leicester’s underdog triumph has an inspirational value? Perhaps. But to delight in underdogs only when they win is rather to miss the point of what an underdog is. Most of the people thus inspired will go on to no comparable triumph; one unlikely outcome does not make others more likely. If it is good and kind to suggest to people that the odds against their dreams are shorter than they think, then Las Vegas is truly a very good, kind city. But most do not think it so. That leaves the argument that the world is somehow a richer place if its events and contests are less predictable. But when the author of the book of Ecclesiastes cautioned that the race was not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, he did not do so with any sense of satisfaction at this state of affairs; he was lamenting how little his world made sense. When Damon Runyon, the bard of Broadway, noted that though these biblical caveats about races and battles had some truth, that was still the way to bet, he was proclaiming a salutary view that things could be predicted, and were all the better for it.

Leicester we forget

Making the world more predictable allows people to put more into it and get more out of it. This is the great work of civilisation, from explanations of nature through science to expectations that justice will be delivered through the law. A probabilistic nihilism that delights in the unexpected in and of itself sets at naught such achievements. So well done, Leicester. But if consistency has value, there is no team quite like Arsenal.