Every strike brings me closer to the next home run.
Gee, its lonesome in the outfield. It's hard to keep awake with nothing to do.
I've never heard a crowd boo a homer, but I've heard plenty of boos after a strikeout.
If it wasn't for baseball, I'd be in either the penitentiary or the cemetery.
The termites have got me.
Baseball changes through the years. It gets milder.