My main goal now is waking up healthy every day and going on with life.

There are maybe one or two hours a day when I think I can play, but I get over that real quick once I realize the risk and my wife tells me, "Just take a seat."

It's kind of glorious to say, "Oh man, this guy had his career cut short." I'm not calling myself Sandy Koufax by any means. I'm not in that caliber at all, but sometimes it has to end different.

I have a food show.It's not just baseball people. It's a mixture of baseball people, actors, musicians, chefs and whatnot. They bring out different dishes, and at the end of the show, I give the one I like the most the "Fielder's choice." It's good TV.

Obviously I wasn't playing well at the time. But as a player, you lie to yourself. You say, "There's nothing wrong. I'm just not on time [at the plate]." You make something else up because pain is not an option.

I play to lift a city, and raise a banner.

It was pretty hard to actually have to say the words with my teammates, my wife and my boys there. I realized it was going to happen before that day [I announce retirement], but to have to announce it and talk about in front of a lot of people was tougher than I expected. I'm glad that feeling has kind of gone away. That sadness hasn't lingered.