I don't see why you reporters keep confusing Brooks (Robinson) and me. Can't you see that we wear different numbers.

Probably the most dramatic change in pitching I've observed in my years in baseball has been the disappearance of the knockdown or brushback pitch. This is why record numbers of home runs are flying out of ballparks, why earned run averages are soaring, and why there are so few twenty game winners in the majors.

I know a lot of people on the field - players, coaches, managers - are glad that I'm gone.

The baselines belongs to the runner, and whenever I was running the bases, I always slid hard. I wanted infielders to have that instant's hesitation about coming across the bag at second or about standing in there awaiting a throw to make a tag. There are only 27 outs in a ballgame, and it was my job to save one for my team every time I possibly could.

Pitchers did me a favor when they knocked me down. It made me more determined. I wouldn't let that pitcher get me out. They say you can't hit if you're on your back, but I didn't hit on my back. I got up.

It's nice to come into a town and be referred to as the manager of the Cleveland Indians instead of as the first black manager.

I don't see anyone playing in the major leagues today (1982) who combines both the talent and the intensity that I had. I always tried to do the best. I knew I couldn't always be the best, but I tried to be.