Most pitchers fear losing their fastball and, since I don't have one, the only thing I have to fear is fear itself.

Preschoolers have a way of grabbing your attention. Mine help me not to be a baseball player at home.

Reggie Jackson hit one off me that's still burrowing its way to Los Angeles.

A manager uses a relief pitcher like a six shooter, he fires until it's empty then takes the gun and throws it at the villain.

Someone told me just recently that poets are eulogists. It's their job, to eulogize. I didn't know that, but it makes sense. Because in almost every poem of mine there is a loss.

Strikes (1981) are real life. It took up seven weeks of real time. That's a fifth of a pregnancy.

Coming into a game in the eighth or ninth inning is like parachuting behind enemy lines. And sometimes the chute doesn't open. You have to live with that. It's an occupational hazard.