Numerology is not my thing. But a photo in the New York Times shortly after the 2020 Presidential election, of Joe Biden in his No. 30 high school football jersey, has prompted some ruminations regarding coincidence. The picture was from 1960, when Biden was a senior and, according to the accompanying article, an exceptional pass catcher for Archmere Academy, a Catholic school in Claymont, Delaware.
It so happens that, the following fall, I wore No. 30 on the freshman team at Alemany High, a Catholic school in the Los Angeles suburb of San Fernando. (I was an offensive lineman—at least until everyone surpassed me in height and weight the next year and I wound up playing quarterback. Not exceptionally.)
But there’s more. Biden’s team was undefeated in eight games the year of that snapshot. Mine, in the season when I was dressed in No. 30, also was 8-0.
No student of karma, I nevertheless should point out that Biden, on his way to becoming President, had risen to the status of United States Senator by the minimum required age: 30. I meanwhile embarked on a half-century career in print journalism, whose practitioners traditionally indicate the end of a story submitted for editing with the number 30 (separated by two hyphens).
Yes, and back in my high school days, my favorite member of the Los Angeles Dodgers was shortstop Maury Wills. No. 30. That was about the time the student/youth protest movement—and young people in general—were espousing the warning, “Don’t trust anyone over 30.” I also could note parenthetically that, in that era, we whippersnappers were spending more than a little time listening to the terrific Beatles collection known as The White Album. Which consisted of 30 tracks. And not too long after came that delightful movie, Back to the Future, in which Marty McFly traveled 30 years back in time.
According to affinitynumerology.com, the number 30 “resonates with optimism….resonates with and supports creative expression and encourages it in others.”
That’s a welcome outlook for us citizens right about now, though I wouldn’t want to go overboard in declaring some divine or mystical connection at work.
What all this means is purely subjective and very likely inconsequential. Just as incongruous as reporting that the earliest written records of numerology—the study of numbers in one’s life—are said to have come from Babylon. I live in Babylon. But the one on Long Island, New York; not ancient Mesopotamia (now modern Iraq).
I’d have to count myself among the skeptics who argue that numbers have no occult significance and do not influence our lives; that numerology feels more like a superstition, a pseudo-science using numbers to supply the veneer of scientific authority.
But I do consider The Count a superstar among the Muppets. And one more happenstance related to this discussion: Joe Biden was U.S. President No. 46. I was born in ’46.
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The thing is: I only played left guard and center for one season. And once I became a quarterback, only was a starter for one more year on the B team. But my friend Ronnie Foster had this technique, when running with the ball, of lowering his head and bounces off the tackler, spinning away and moving on. I tried it in practice. It worked. But, since I spent most of my time on the bench, I retained my marbles. Mostly. Thirtieth anniversary is long gone. Don't tell Donna about the pearls.
So, I can't get past two things: You started as an offensive lineman and you can remember all of this. You may also note that a 30th wedding anniversary is marked by pearls so I hope that is what you gave Donna or hightail it to a jewelry store as soon as possible. I wore #22 as a DB/RB and it has absolutely no meaning to me.