There were things that would irritate Casey, but trying too hard or getting mad at sitting on the bench weren't among them.

Casey didn't easily forgive a guy who got doubled up on a hit-and-run play. He didn't see any reason why the runner couldn't take a quick glance back toward the plate to make sure the ball was hit safely.

I don't care what the situation was, how high the stakes were - the bases could be loaded and the pennant riding on every pitch, it never bothered Whitey. He pitched his game. Cool. Craft. Nerves of steel.

I leaned on him for support when I got out of the cab, and he just crumpled to the ground. That's how we found out.

It's what you're worth.

Hitting the ball was easy. Running around the bases was the tough part.

The only thing I can do is play baseball. I have to play ball. It's the only thing I know.