I can't stand satisfaction. To me, greatness comes from that quest for perfection.

If you could equate the amount of time and effort put in mentally and physically into succeeding on the baseball field and measured it by the dirt on your uniform, mine would have been black.

I'm 61 now, and I'm comfortable in my lifestyle... I don't yearn for the limelight on a regular basis. I get a kick out of it every so often. I go to Philly and go to a game, and they make a big deal about me. That's fun for a couple of days, and I can go back to my own private life.

I don't think I can get into my deep inner thoughts about hitting. It's like talking about religion.

It isn't that hard to get RBI's when you're hitting home runs, you generally get a least one.

You're trying your damndest, you strike out and they boo you. I act like it doesn't bother me, like I don't hear anything the fans say, but the truth is I hear every word of it and it kills me.

If you're associated with the Philadelphia media or town, you look for negatives. I don't know if there's something about their upbringing or they have too many hoagies, or too much cream cheese.