Larry's blog

“What’s your name son?” asked the varsity baseball manager. “Johnny Buzhardt, sir,” replied the young hopeful. “Johnny Bizarre?” “No, Buh-ZART." Nevertheless, his teammates referred to him as Johnny Bizarre. Since Spring training began, he certainly lived up to his nickname. No one at school seemed to know this kid. Even students in his classes were barely aware of him. Yet he showed up on the first day of Spring training claiming he wanted to be a pitcher. He made an unlikely athlete, tall and gangly, all arms and legs, and a string bean of a body. One thing he could do is throw the ball hard, really hard. As a fifteen-year-old sophomore, he threw harder than most college seniors. The first time he threw the ball, heads turned as the ball hit the catcher's mitt with such force that it sounded like firecrackers going off. After about 10 pitches, the catcher had to walk off the field and take off his mitt because his hand was red and swollen from the impact ...

When One came home from school and entered the house, his parents Four and Seven were waiting for him. His father, Seven, looked at him sternly. “What’s the matter?” said One. “What did we tell you about hanging out with negative numbers?” his father asked. One looked down sheepishly. “We were just hanging out after school for a little while. What’s the big deal? They are just like us.” “Just like us!” the father roared back. “There are no such things as negative numbers. Everyone knows you start counting at one. You should be proud that your number comes first. Now these numbers claim they come before you. Have you ever started counting with a negative number? Have you ever seen a negative distance or measured a negative time? No! Distance has to be positive and time always flows forward. The nerve of these negatives to claim to be real numbers like us. Why, in my day we never even heard of them. But there they go, moving into our neighborhood, brazenly carrying the...