Given a paragraph, generate a claim that is supported by the given paragraph. 1) The claim must contain information from within the paragraph. 2) A sentence within the paragraph can be used as a claim. 3) The claim should not have contradictions within the paragraph. 4) The claim should be at most one sentence long.

[Q]: "The New England Patriots might wish this entire business of under-inflated footballs would vanish in a puff of smoke, but it’s a boon for physics teachers who have found themselves suddenly relevant in the world of sports. Patriots coach Bill Belichick, a self-declared non-scientist, held a pre-Super Bowl news conference where he attempted to explain why a football inflated indoors would lose pressure after being used outside. ""When the footballs are delivered to the officials' locker room, the officials were asked to inflate them to 12.5 pounds per square inch. What exactly they did, I don’t know,"" Belichick said. ""When the footballs go out on to the field into game conditions ...  That’s where the measurements would be different than what they are, possibly different, than what they are in a controlled environment."" Belichick said when Patriot staffers tested this, they found that the balls ""were down approximately one-and-a-half pounds per square inch."" There are too many unknowns to resolve Deflategate, as this flap is called. But we couldn't help but give Belichick's main assertion the PunditFact treatment. The question in this case is what physics tells us about Belichick’s point. Could conditions outside (basically temperature and humidity) bring down the pressure of a football by about 1.5 pounds per square inch? A quick recap The Patriots advanced to the Super Bowl on Jan. 18, 2015, by defeating the Indianapolis Colts 45-7. But by the next day, the most interesting number wasn’t the point spread, but the inflation pressure of the Patriots’ footballs. Under NFL rules, each team provides 12 balls, and about two hours before the game, an official verifies that they are inflated to the regulation pressure range of 12.5 to 13.5 pounds per square inch. At half-time, the NFL re-checked the Patriots’ footballs -- reportedly at the request of the Colts but there’s a bit of conflicting information on this -- and found 11 of the 12 were under inflated. By how much? That’s unclear. Some reports say by 2 pounds per square inch. Others say while one ball might have measured that low, the rest were only about 1 pound under. One other essential variable: The temperature on game day was around 50 degrees. No one knows the exact inside temperature. Most people assume it was about 70 degrees. Doing the math After Belichick spoke, ABC News turned to Bill Nye, the popular explainer of all things scientific, to assess the coach’s claim. ABC played up Nye's verdict that Belichick's words ""didn’t make any sense,"" but from the video, it sounds as though Nye was talking about Belichick's claim that rubbing the footballs would change the pressure, not the impact of temperature. CBS Sports relayed a tweet from another science luminary, physicist Neil deGrasse Tyson who also expressed skepticism. ""For the Patriots to blame a change in temperature for 15 percent lower-pressures, requires balls to be inflated with 125-degree air,"" Tyson wrote. CBS reported that ""Every 10 degree drop in temperature (F) results in about .2 PSI loss in a football."" According to CBS, that meant the weather would account for just a 0.4 pound of pressure loss, and tied that conclusion, loosely, to an Ohio State University physicist. We’ll get back to that CBS story (and its flaws) in a bit. On the other side of the ledger, USA Today interviewed Bowdoin College physics professor Dale Syphers who declared that a drop from room temperature in the 70s down to 40 degrees would reduce the pressure in a football by 1.3 pounds per square inch. The Daily Beast turned to the chair of the Physics Department at Boston College who said that with a 30 degree drop in temperature -- 75 down to 45 degrees -- you would expect the ball pressure to fall by by 1.54 pounds per square inch. Finally, the world of physics is divided between the theoretical physicists and the experimentalists. The physicists cited in the news worked with formulas. HeadSmart Labs, a private firm in Pittsburgh, tested actual footballs. It found that footballs inflated at 75 degrees, then cooled to 50 degrees lost 1.1 pounds of pressure. The lab took one more step. Since it was raining on game day, the staff dampened the balls. This led to a drop of an additional 0.7 pounds of pressure for a total of at least 1.8 pounds per square inch. The physics teachers come off the bench Enter Robert Hilborn of the American Association of Physics Teachers. The Harvard-trained physicist showed in detail how a law of physics, the ideal gas law, applied to the Patriots’ footballs. When a gas cools, it contracts. The ideal gas law helps us put numbers to that relationship between pressure and temperature. Math alert: We’re going to show you pretty much everything, so you can do it yourself at home. ""As almost every chemistry and physics student knows, the ideal gas law tells us that Pf = Pi (Tf/Ti),"" Hilborn wrote. The final pressure Pf equals the initial pressure Pi times the final temperature divided by the initial temperature Tf/Ti. Plugging in the numbers is simple, so long as you keep two things in mind. First, the pressure isn’t the pressure you see on your pressure gauge. It’s that amount plus the pressure of the atmosphere that’s all around you. It might feel counterintuitive, but when a football comes off the assembly line, before it's ever pumped up, it actually has an internal pressure that you wouldn't notice because it's the same as the pressure we always ignore. That's the pressure that comes from all those miles of air in our atmosphere pushing down on us. That pressure averages around 14.7 pounds per square inch. When you pump air into the football, you are adding pressure on top of the 14.7 that are already there. In Hilborn's math, you'll see he's added in the atmospheric pressure. The other key step is to measure the temperature in Celsius and count from absolute zero. That’s the Kelvin scale. Hilborn used a starting temperature of 70 degrees and a final temperature of 50 degrees Fahrenheit and a starting pressure of 12.5 pounds per square inch. ""Those numbers give us 27.2 psi for Pi, 294 K for Ti, and 283 K for Tf resulting in Pf = 26.2 psi for the total pressure and a corresponding gauge pressure of 11.5 psi, about 1 psi below the NFL lower limit."" In short, taking the balls outside would bring the pressure down 1 pound per square inch. Hilborn then accounted for the rain that day. Cooling the moist air inside the footballs would shed another 0.2 pounds per square inch. ""Combining the air temperature change effect with that of water vapor gives us a total of 1.2 psi, not too far from the figure of 1.4 psi given in one of the early NFL statements,"" Hilborn wrote. Hilborn’s results are pure math, and they are largely in line with the test results from the lab in Pittsburgh. The results in other news reports We were troubled by the CBS item that came up with a much lower number of 0.4 pounds per square inch due to a lower outdoor temperature. But when we called Prof. Michael Lisa, the Ohio State University physicist quoted in the CBS article, Lisa said, ""CBS got it wrong."" Lisa sent us this chart that you can download showing that for each 10 degrees drop in temperature, pressure drops 0.5 pounds. (The chart’s different lines show that the higher the starting pressure, the greater the impact of falling temperature.) We found that news reports that undercut the Patriots’ explanation used a high number for the loss of pressure. CBS said the footballs lost 2 pounds of pressure. Ditto for a Toronto Sun article. If it turns out that there really was a loss that large, then those arguments hold up. For the moment, we are simply assessing whether the physics back up what Belichick said and he used the 1.5 pound figure. Lisa also affirmed Hilborn’s analysis. ""That AAPT guy did a nice job,"" Lisa said. Nevertheless, Hilborn himself said no one should rush to judgment. ""A conservative conclusion is that temperature changes alone can account for much of the under-inflation,"" Hilborn wrote. ""But until more accurate information is available about the preparation of and measurement of the footballs’ air pressure, we should not assert that conclusion with a great deal of certainty."" The NFL is investigating and at some point, all the numbers might be known. Or not. Hilborn told PunditFact that the accuracy of the pressure gauges is unclear. One number that will be of interest is the starting pressure for the Colts’ footballs. It's possible they may have deflated as well, but stayed within the legal limits. Our ruling Belichick said that moving the footballs from indoors to outdoors could explain the loss of about 1.5 pounds per square inch of pressure. Experimental and mathematical results are in that ballpark. Lab tests said air temperature alone could bring down the pressure by 1.1 pounds. The ideal gas law predicted a 1 pound loss. The rain that day would explain at least another 0.2 pound shift and possibly as much as 0.7. We lack firm numbers on the actual pressure drop in the Patriots footballs, as well as precise information on the starting and ending temperatures. Within the limits of what the physics alone can tell us at this point, the math gets us pretty close to what Belichick said. With allowances for the uncertain data."
[A]: "Atmospheric conditions could push a football’s pressure ""down approximately one-and-a-half pounds per square inch."


[Q]: On 10 May 1991, a 14-year-old Boy Scout named David Hahn earned an Atomic Energy merit badge, the first (and likely only) person in the history of Troop 371 in Clinton Township, Michigan, to receive a badge in that discipline: David was awarded his Atomic Energy merit badge on May 10, 1991, five months shy of his fifteenth birthday. To earn it he made a drawing showing how nuclear fission occurs, visited a hospital radiology unit to learn about the medical uses of radioisotopes and built a model reactor using a juice can, coat hangers, soda straws, kitchen matches, and rubber bands. By now, though, David had far grander ambitions. Throughout his childhood, Hahn had been obsessed with chemistry, teaching himself everything he knew from encyclopedias, textbooks, and chemistry sets, while personal safety did not seem to be a concern of his. According to a 1998 Harper’s profile of Hahn written by Ken Silverstein, “He once appeared at a scout meeting with a bright orange face caused by an overdose of canthaxanthin, which he was taking to test methods of artificial tanning.” In another instance, he was held responsible for a blowing a large hole in the wall of a Boy Scout tent after accidentally igniting a stockpile of powdered magnesium he had brought along. His “laboratory” was eventually moved to the potting shed behind his mother’s house, after an incident in his father’s basement that did not go as planned: One night as [Hahn’s father and stepmother] were sitting in the living room watching TV, the house was rocked by an explosion in the basement. There they found David lying semiconscious on the floor, his eyebrows smoking. Unaware that red phosphorus is pyrophoric, David had been pounding it with a screwdriver and ignited it. After achieving the rank of Eagle Scout, Hahn decided he wanted to experiment with real radioactivity, not merely the models he had used to earn his badge. He created various radioactive devices, including two different “neutron guns” that emitted radioactive particles, and eventually decided he wanted to create a “breeder reactor” — an energy generating nuclear reactor that actually produces more fissile material than it consumes (by essentially turning material around it radioactive). The concept was popular in the 1970s but for the most part has been abandoned thanks to modern technology and geologic finds that make mining uranium more cost-efficient. The breeder reactor concept was described by the Department of Energy in 1971 as follows: A breeder is a reactor that produces more fuel than it consumes … If the breeder can be used in a nuclear power plant, it can provide the heat needed for the generation of electricity and simultaneously produce an excess of fissionable material that can be used to fuel other plants. The answer to this apparent contradiction is that breeder reactors do not give “something for nothing”, but produce usable fissionable material from comparatively useless fertile material at a greater rate than the original fuel in the reactor is consumed in the fissioning process. The obvious question is how would an adolescent working out of his mother’s potting shed acquire fissile material to play around with? This is where Hahn’s myopic focus and determination really shined: Many household products (and even more in the 1990s) contain radioactive material, but the problem is scale. Hahn exploited several commonly found products and used his knowledge of chemistry to extract and concentrate it to create radioactivity at levels “not found in nature.” Early on, one common source of Hahn’s radioactive material came from household smoke detectors, which contain extremely small amounts of the radioactive isotope americium-241 as part of the mechanism that detects smoke. He “contacted smoke-detector companies and claimed that he needed a large number of the devices for a school project.” To obtain the radioactive isotope thorium-232, Hahn recalled a fact he had learned as an Eagle Scout: that the mantle of gas lanterns contains traces of the radioactive material. So he purchased “thousands of lantern mantles from surplus stores and, using the blowtorch, reduced them into a pile of ash.” This method produced radiation levels “9,000 times the level found in nature and 170 times the level that requires [Nuclear Regulatory Commission] licensing.” Radium-226, he learned, was found in the paint of antique luminescent clocks. Hahn was able to find an antique can of the mildly radioactive paint in a clock at a nearby antique store, which he used to isolate the isotope for experiments. Tritium, he found, was used as a component of glow-in-the-dark gun and bow sights, which he repeatedly purchased and returned as part of a scheme to collect the material. Hahn “removed the tritium contained in a waxy substance inside the sights, and then, using a variety of pseudonyms, returned the sights to the store or manufacturer for repair—each time collecting another tiny quantity of tritium.” These purchases were not the only instances in which Hahn employed subterfuge to obtain radioactive material. Claiming to be a professor, he once wrote to a Czechoslovakian firm that sells uranium to commercial and university buyers, obtaining a few samples of material which contained uranium-235 and uranium-238. “Ignoring any thought of safety,” as Harper’s described it, he attempted to build a reactor using the radioactive material he had collected over the years, using a schematic in his father’s college chemistry textbook as his guide: [Hahn] took the highly radioactive radium and americium out of their respective lead casings and, after another round of filing and pulverizing, mixed those isotopes with beryllium and aluminum shavings, all of which he wrapped in aluminum foil. What were once the neutron sources for his guns became a makeshift “core” for his reactor. He surrounded this radioactive ball with a “blanket” composed of tiny foil-wrapped cubes of thorium ash and uranium powder, which were stacked in an alternating pattern with carbon cubes and tenuously held together with duct tape. While he never achieved the critical mass necessary for a self-sustaining reaction, Hahn certainly appeared to have accomplished the creation of some new fissile material: [Hahn] monitored his “breeder reactor” … with his Geiger counter. “It was radioactive as heck,” he says. “The level of radiation after a few weeks was far greater than it was at the time of assembly. I know I transformed some radioactive materials. Even though there was no critical pile, I know that some of the reactions that go on in a breeder reactor went on to a minute extent” … When his Geiger counter began picking up radiation five doors down from his mom’s house, David decided that he had “too much radioactive stuff in one place” and began to disassemble the reactor. He placed the thorium pellets in a shoebox that he hid in his mother’s house, left the radium and americium in the shed, and packed most of the rest of his equipment into the trunk of the Pontiac 6000. All of these events took place before the end of 1994, and perhaps they would have remained a secret to this day if Hahn had not stashed the remains of his nuclear reactor in that Pontiac. On 31 August 1994, police responded to complaints that Hahn was in a residential neighborhood “stealing tires from a car.” In their discussion with Hahn, the police ended up performing a search of the car and found: When they opened the trunk they discovered a toolbox shut with a padlock and sealed with duct tape for good measure. The trunk also contained over fifty foil-wrapped cubes of mysterious gray powder, small disks and cylindrical metal objects, lantern mantles, mercury switches, a clock face, ores, fireworks, vacuum tubes, and assorted chemicals and acids. The police were especially alarmed by the toolbox, which David warned them was radioactive and which they feared was an atomic bomb. The discovery of the radioactive contents of Hahn’s trunk “automatically triggered the Federal Radiological Emergency Response Plan, and state officials soon were embroiled in tense phone consultations with the DOE, EPA, FBI, and NRC.” After examining his mother’s property (which she had cleansed of the most radioactive material in advance of law enforcement searches of the property for fear she would lose her home), authorities decided that the site was to be an EPA clean-up operation: A Superfund cleanup took place between June 26 and 28 at a cost of about $60,000. After the moon-suited workers dismantled the potting shed with electric saws, they loaded the remains into thirty-nine sealed barrels placed aboard a semitrailer bound for Envirocare, a dump facility located in the middle of the Great Salt Lake Desert. There, the remains of [Hahn’s] experiments were entombed along with tons of low-level radioactive debris from the government’s atomic-bomb factories, plutonium-production facilities, and contaminated industrial sites. Hahn fell into a deep depression following this episode, according to Harper’s, which was likely exacerbated by his mother’s suicide in 1996. He enlisted in the armed forces and spent four years in the U.S. Navy followed by some time in the Marines Corps before returning to his home state of Michigan. In 2007 the FBI investigated claims that Hahn was storing radioactive material in his apartment. In an interview with the FBI, Hahn described his honorable discharge from the military and his struggles with paranoid schizophrenia in the years following his return home: Hahn advised that prior to joining the Navy in May, 1997, he got into trouble for stealing tires and rims from a vehicle. Hahn stated he was in the Navy for approximately five and a half years as a internal communication specialist as well as various other positions. Hahn said he then received his associates from Macomb Community College for Applied Science in Criminal Justice. Hahn advised that he then enlisted in the Marines in 2004. Hahn stated he was a truck driver for approximately a year and a half before he was honorably discharged. Hahn said after a few months living with his [REDACTED], Hahn moved to his current residence. Hahn advised that he does not currently have a job. Hahn stated he is on disability because he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. Hahn said he also has radiation poisoning from his prior contact with radioactive substances. Hahn advised that he is compliant with all his medications most of the time. Hahn stated he occasionally drinks while he is on his medications. Hahn ran into trouble with the law for stealing smoke detectors in 2007 as well, and he experienced repeated drug-related incidents in the years following. He died on 27 September 2016 at the age of 39, a death which was the result of alcohol poisoning, his father said: Citing a toxicology and autopsy report, Kenneth Hahn said his son was found with a dangerous level of blood alcohol content, 0.404, late in the evening on September 26, 2016 … Prior to his death, [Kenneth] Hahn accompanied his son to the Veterans Administration hospital for quarterly routine checkups. Medical staff there found no lingering ill effects from the earlier radiation exposure.
[A]: In 1994, a 17-year-old Eagle Scout built a nuclear reactor in his mother’s backyard, an act that ultimately necessitated a Superfund cleanup.


[Q]: The article doesn’t comment on costs. Though most readers will know that if duct tape were effective it would cost only pennies, few are likely to know the cost of the various medical therapies – from over-the-counter ointments to lasers and injections. The article notes that the researchers looked at a single outcome—the disappearance of the wart—and that one in five patients in each group had a successful outcome. According to the published study, duct tape is a virtually harmless treatment, but can cause minor irritations (numbness and bleeding in two of the 90 subjects enrolled in the study). The AP story neglects to mention this. The article nicely explains the workings of a randomized, double-blind, controlled trial in which one group received treatment with moleskin alone and the other group received moleskin plus duct tape; neither doctors nor patients knew which treatment they received. The news story puts warts in their proper context—saying they are “harmless, stubborn bumps” that will eventually go away on their own without any treatment at all. The article quotes the lead author of the study and the chair of the dermatology department at an academic medical center with no relationship to the study. The news story ably summarizes a broad range of other medical therapies that attempt to eliminate warts, from over-the-counter ointments to lasers and injections. Duct tape is as American as apple pie, and if readers want to buy some they will know where to find it. The news story explains that duct tape has fascinated previous researchers, and “earned a place in the medicine cabinet in 2002.” No obvious use of text from a press release.
[A]:
Study casts doubt on duct tape wart cure