Close don't count in baseball. Close only counts in horseshoes and grenades.

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.

Listen, I was the first black manager in baseball and there was incredible pressure. I don't blame anyone else. I was too tough . . . I lack patience. I probably got on guys a little too hard, with the wrong tone of voice.

I had no trouble communicating, the player's just didn't like what I had to say.

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

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.

No, I don't think my presence will cause an increase in black attendance at Cleveland. People come out to see the players. When do you see a manager anyway? When he's out on the field arguing with the umpires, making a fool of himself and you know you can't win, and when he brings out the line-up card.