If it wasn't for baseball, I'd be in either the penitentiary or the cemetery.
Gee, its lonesome in the outfield. It's hard to keep awake with nothing to do.
What do I think about when I strike out? I think about hitting home runs.
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.
I had only one superstition. I made sure to touch all the bases when I hit a home run.