Out of sheer stubbornness, I just would keep going - just hoping that at some point something would click. I certainly held onto the hope that it might. I had no guarantees, but I trusted that if I worked hard and put in the time, it would eventually reap a fruit. I just didn't know what that fruit was going to be or how big it was going to be.

I could never get a real good clear picture of what I could become.

I would use sport as an escape from the pain of what was real. Instead of dealing with the pain, instead of being honest about the pain, instead of asking for help - if I had to do it differently, I would do it differently in that regard.

You never go into a season thinking you're going to strike out 200 guys or that you would have the most double-digit strikeout games in the big leagues, or anything like that. You just try to win, and the outing becomes what the outing becomes.

Who doesn’t want a Cy Young Award? What kid didn’t grow up wanting to be the best? I’m no different. I want to be the best. I’ve always wanted to be the best.

I've worked for everything I've ever got and it's worked out. Even if I was the Cy Young Award winner I still would not want to feel that sense of entitlement. I would still treat every game like it's my very first game and my very last game.

A lot of people don't trust the pitch. There's this kind of reputation it has for being untrustworthy and fickle and capricious and everything else, and those are words that big league managers and general managers and organizations aren't too fond of.