It never ceases to amaze me how many of baseball's wounds are self-inflicted.

The true harbinger of spring is not crocuses or swallows returning to Capistrano, but the sound of the bat on the ball.

When there is no room for individualism in ballparks, then there will be no room for individualism in life.

If U.S. Grant had been leading a team of baseball players, they'd have second guessed him all the way to the doorknob of the Appomattox Courthouse.

Tradition is the albatross around the neck of progress.

Look, we play the Star Spangled Banner before every game. You want us to pay income taxes, too?

I'm for the dreamers. The only really important things in history have been started by the dreamers. They never know what can't be done.