“To be honest, I’ve never been interested in how many games I’ve done and seen. It doesn’t mean anything to anybody. All I know is I’m eternally grateful for having been allowed to work so many games.”

You can almost taste the pressure now.

I try to call the play as quickly as I possibly can and then shut up and let the crowd roar because, to me, the crowd is the most wonderful thing in the whole world when it’s making noise.

A man really determines himself by what he does.

I guess my thermometer for my baseball fever is still a goose bump.

It’s a great time of the year. If you can stand it.

If I can get a story about a player, I would give you a ship load of numbers, batting averages and all just for that one precious story. That’s the kind of thing that I love to do.

I’ve told several writers this, and, again, I get back to it, but if you want to make God smile, tell him your plans.

I’m not a military general, a business guru, not a philosopher or author. It’s only me.

As long as you live keep smiling because it brightens everybody’s day.

Good is not good when better is expected.

I don’t like to be alone, but I do cherish the moments that I’m alone with a good book.

Almost all of us growing up have played baseball on some level. It has an inside track with people. It has a unifying effect.

Thank you for sneaking your transistor under the pillow as you grew up loving the Tigers. God has a new adventure for me.

I really love baseball. The guys and the game, and I love the challenge of describing things. The only thing I hate – and I know you have to be realistic and pay the bills in this life – is the loneliness on the road.

Statistics are used much like a drunk uses a lamppost: for support, not illumination.

One of my favorite expressions ever uttered by a player is Roy Campanella’s line about how, in order to be a major-league player, you have to have a lot of little boy in you.