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Mystical Numbers

Mystical Numbers

Ronald Roy

I am not a numerologist—a person who believes in the occult significance of numbers, or one who believes in mystical, supernatural or magical powers, practices or phenomena (Oxford English Dictionary). Numerology therefore pertains to matters beyond human comprehension, that is: things that transcend the five senses.

To the skeptical, numerology is pure entertainment spiced up with playful trickery. To the gullible, especially one with a sixth sense or the so-called inner eye, it is a numbers-related force that inexplicably influences or bears upon people.

I have no psychic grasp of numerology, always preferring to call coincidental, for instance, vehicular tragedies occurring on Friday the 13th, or on the 13th birthday of a pedestrian who steps out despite a psychic’s warning. If 13 is an unlucky number, how does one indeed explain a chess prodigy—the 13th child of poor farmers, winning his 13th trophy in his 13th club tournament?
And how about a kitten, supposedly with nine lives, getting crushed by a passing pushcart on its second attempt to cross a back alley? We could tick off countless cases to prove our point that numerology should never be taken seriously. Take the case of Tiger Woods.

The story has gone around that Tiger was 14 when he scored his first hole-in-one on hole number—you guessed it—14. Number 14 was therefore a lucky number for him, on that day anyway. However, again the same story goes that on his 14th participation as an amateur, he was disqualified from the tournament which he had ironically won by 14 strokes, when he was found out to have carried in his bag 15 clubs, one in excess of the required maximum of 14. So 14 was then unlucky for him.

I have not really researched how 14 has impacted on his professional life, but as regards his private life, well, recent media accounts speak for themselves.

Mr. Woods has openly owned up to 14 extramarital flings–unavoidable incidents, one might argue—in the course of what may be justified as a normal need for rest and recreation in the hectic schedule of traveling sportsmen, just as it is for soldiers away from home. It is a known fact that furloughs are programmed to enhance the soldiers’ physical and psychological fitness for combat.
But while the biological need can be appreciated in the dizzying pace of an athlete’s life, in war the same would undoubtedly be greater, according to scientific findings. It therefore appears that soldiers should get a little more understanding from their jealous wives and girlfriends back home. Anyway, I doubt if Woods’ controversial furloughs are necessary to preserve his lofty pedestal as the planet’s greatest living golfer.

However, I do think, for three reasons, he deserves a reconciliatory measure of sympathy, forgiveness if you will, from his wife, to wit, one: for publicly admitting to his infidelities—it takes a man to do this—two: for promising to try to be a better husband and father, and three: for saying he was sorry. And it would help a little more if she realized it was Tiger’s very uniqueness as a man that she was first smitten with and that eventually led her to exchange vows with him.

Look, texter 9214, I don’t mean to be preachy. To be honest, my only interest in Tiger Woods is when he can break Jack Nicklaus’ record of 18 major tournament titles. Already, he owns 14 major wins. The spectacular achievement of five more is well within his reach, and I hope to see it in my lifetime. After all, the greatest moment in any sport is when a record is broken, and when the feat is achieved by someone like Woods, the moment becomes electric—to borrow your phrase, 9214.

In answer to your request that I describe my most electric moments, let me first make the embarrassing confession that it is self-gratification that stimulates my thirst for acclaim.

Here they are: In skittles chess, beating international master Rodolfo Tan Cardoso with one extra-move advantage, national masters Antonio Kaimo and Edgardo Garma; in billiards, when Moreno the Philippine’s 15-ball champion did not accept my challenge; in fine arts at age 12, when I was recognized by Kislap Magazine as a budding national artist; in music, when my first composition was played at Concert at the Park under the baton of Prof. Regalado Jose, and every time my work the Law Asia Anthem is sung at a Law Asia convention; and—

When on the—you guessed it–14th green of the old UP golf course, I landed my second shot on the noggin of a prancing hen, causing the ball to ricochet into the hole, not for a birdie, not for an eagle, but for what a scribe once described as probably the first-ever recorded “chicken” in golf. I didn’t get a prize for the rara avis, but it did make for the sumptuous tinola for 14 friends who relished it at a late lunch at 1400 hours (2 pm).

Of course, supremely electric would be when the despot, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, reaches the top of the karmic 13 steps.

(Email: arnydolor@yahoo.com, cell # 09186449517, landline # (02)7106701)

Ms. Ninez Cacho-Olivarez

Publisher and editor-in-chief

Dear Ninez,

For your consideration, please.

Yours,

Ronnie (Roy)

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