Day 21

21 is THE number. 21 represents so much to me. 21 was dad's number. He wore it at Atlanta Braves fantasy camp, where my mom sent him on his 45th b-day. 21 is the number I wore in high school soccer. The basketball team didn't have a #21 available, so I wore #3, because 2+1 = 3. One of my favorite athletes of all time, Deion Sanders, wore #21. When I go the Vegas or any casino for that matter, the first thing I do is put a sawbuck on red 21 in roulette. Then I always play the same number: 3 (2+1), 7 (3x7 = 21)12 (21 backwards), 21, and 31 (in honor of the great Ryan Sturch). I just love the number. It holds a very big significance to me. I always has, but moreso now than before, for obvious reasons. The only downside of 21? Mike Hargrove wore it when he was the manager of the Tribe. My man Grover was one of the worst game managers in recent baseball history. Dad, MD, and I hated him. A classic dad story: Grover was mr. righty/lefty, meaning he always went to the bullpen to bring in a setup man to matchup with either a right handed hitter, or a lefthanded hitter, which used to drive dad crazy. One day game, Grover was sporting a fresh haircut where his ears were sticking out. It looked like he had been scalped. The Tribe pitching was bad and Hargrove made like 4 pitching changes, none of which worked. We were sitting in our normal seats 5th row behind the Tribe dugout. Dad, with his usual humor, yelled to Hargrove as he approached the dugout: "Grover, it must be the haircut." Hargrove looked right up at him, shrugged his shoulders and said "it must be."

Song of the Day: "Crazy Baldheads" by Bob Marley