When we make a mistake, it becomes front-page news. We don’t need any reporter telling us how badly we played.
Vietnam helped me realize who the true heroes really are in this world. It’s not the home-run hitters.
To middle-class parents, the project team may have seemed unfit for children, but it was exactly what I needed.
We devote our entire lives to becoming good ball players. We take batting practice until our hands bleed.
I see a lot of people who love their jobs. I see some garbage collectors smiling as they go about their work.
I found myself in a race with Mother Nature to play as much baseball as I could before she forced me to stop.
I always said that when it was time to retire, I would know it, and I would just tip my hat to the crowds.
To me, baseball has always been a reflection of life. Like life, it adjusts. It survives everything.
There’s nothing I value more than the closeness of friends and family, a smile as I pass someone on the street.
People like us are afraid to leave ball. What else is there to do? When baseball has been your whole life, you can’t think about a future without it, so you hang on as long as you can.
I eventually became proud of my strikeouts, because each one represented another learning experience.