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.

It helps to be stupid if you're a relief pitcher. Relievers had to get into a zone of their own. I just hope I'm stupid enough.

Natural grass is a wonderful thing for little bugs and sinkerball pitchers.

The best thing about baseball is there's no homework.

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

It (his contract) has options through the year 2020 or until the last Rocky movie is made.

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.