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.

I had a wife that did not want me to have a singular regret about chasing my dream, which helped me tremendously. I did not want to have a singular regret. I always held out hope that it was going to turn for the better. That's always what motivated me was hope.

The #‎ knuckleball can be a metaphor of what it's like to let go.

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.

When you start a game, you don't think to yourself, "well, OK, I'm going throw a one-hitter today." It just becomes an organism, your outing becomes an organism and it grows.

I think what motivated me was just hope. Something inside of me, deep down in my guts, always felt like there was something in there.