21?! I'm good for at least 30

Sunday night I went to the officialized opening of Nationals Park, the new Washington Nationals stadium. I saw the president and a fat black lady who sang and I ate a hamburger and everything! It was totally fun and stuff. The problem is that Mitzi took a picture of me and my friend Bill at the game, and I look very angry:

I don't know why I look so mad. Maybe my beer was empty. I'm not sure. The point: I'm sorry, Nationals Parks, if you thought I was mad at you. I never meant to hurt you.

The thing is, I do have something to be mad about, but it's not baseball. It's this:
21
That's information from this site, which is one of the greatest things I've stumbled across in a long time. The problem is, though, that I seriously think I could take more than 21 five year olds in a fight, mainly because I'm committed to excellence. If I was fighting a horde of five year olds, do you think I wouldn't pick one up by the heels and swing him around, knocking down as many other five year olds as I could in the process? THINK AGAIN. I wish there was a more accurate way to gauge this sort of thing. Alas, until someone invents a holodeck, I guess I'll just have to rely on these types of sites, imperfect though they may be.