“As soon as I got out there I felt a strange relationship with the pitcher’s mound. It was as if I’d been born out there. Pitching just felt like the most natural thing in the world. Striking out batters was easy.”

I thank heaven we have had baseball in this world,the kids, our national pastime.

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 other teams could make trouble for us if they win.

Pitching always beats batting – and vice-versa.

If you get a guy that can play a couple positions, it helps you out a real lot.

How can you think and hit at the same time?

The hardest thing is to get started, but the really hardest thing is to finish.

You stand up for your teammates. Your loyalty is to them. You protect them through good and bad, because they’d do the same for you.

The game is supposed to be fun. If you had a bad day, don’t worry. You can’t expect to get a hit every game.

One of the hardest things in life to accept is a called third strike.