He never spoke of that night again, not to your mother, not to anyone else. He was ashamed for her, for Mickey, for himself. In the hospital, he stopped speaking altogether. Silence was his escape, but silence is rarely a refuge. His thoughts still haunted him.' ~pg 139

She loved me coming and going, at my worst and at my best. She had a bottomless well of love for me.

I think, in general, the sports I've enjoyed covering the most have been the offbeat ones. The more popular, mainstream, the less I like them because they're more, they're more structured and the players don't have much interesting to say because they're interviewed all the time.

You can't get stuck on what should have happened. That doesn't help you.

There's a story behind everything..but behind all your stories is always your mother's story..because hers is where yours begins.

The manager once called me the 'best freak' in his stable, and, sad as it sounds, I took pride in that. When you are an outcast, even a tossed stone can be cherished.

I like myself better when I'm with you.