“If it wasn’t for baseball, I’d be in either the penitentiary or the cemetery.”

That last one sounded kinda high to me.

To my sick little pal. I will try to knock you another homer, maybe two today.

How about a little noise. How do you expect a man to putt?

What the hell difference does it make?

I had only one superstition. I made sure to touch all the bases when I hit a home run.

Every Strike is one step closer to a Home Run.

Every strike brings me closer to the next home run.

Baseball was, is and always will be to me the best game in the world.

I don’t need to know where the green is. Where is the golf course?

I’m only going one way.

It’s hard to beat a person that never gives up.

Yesterday’s home runs don’t win today’s games.

If it wasn’t for baseball, I’d be in either the penitentiary or the cemetery. I have the same violent temper my father and older brother had. Both died of injuries from street fights in Baltimore, fights begun by flare-ups of their tempers.

The way a team plays as a whole determines its success.

I won’t be happy until we have every boy in America between the ages of six and sixteen wearing a glove and swinging a bat.

The most important thing that a young athlete must do it pick the right sport. Not one that they like just a little bit, but one that they love. Because,if they don’t really love their sport, they won’t work as hard as they should. Me? I loved to hit.

There are three things in my life which I really love: God, my family, and baseball.

The only problem – once baseball season starts, I change the order around a bit.

Baseball should be the only thing on an eight year old boy’s mind.

I’m not perfect. Nobody’s perfect.

That’s why I’ve gotten so much experience at my age.

You have three teachers next to you every game, and if I’m not playing, I’m watching baseball.

But I love baseball and I love to play hard.

I love the flow of the game. There’s a certain fluidity to basketball. I don’t enjoy watching baseball or football in the same way.