A lot of heavyweights, with the exception of a few Eastern Europe fighters, they really look like being a heavyweight is just like, who can eat the most Pizza Hut and McDonalds.

I learned a lot from not having success, and realizing when you do have success, how hard it is to maintain it, and what you have to do to maintain it.

I've refined my mechanics, refined my pitches. I've gotten more confidence, and I've gotten more determination. I've got a better idea what I'm doing out there.

I had a million-dollar arm, but I wasn't thinking enough about how to be a pitcher.

I'm tired of people questioning me because of my age. If you looked at my numbers and watched me throw and covered my birthdate, would age be an issue?

It's hard to mix with a crowd when you're walking down the hallway and everybody else is a foot shorter. I remember hanging out with my friends, like at the mall, and thinking people were staring at me and talking about me. It made me turn inside myself. I became more shy and quiet.

I would think flying would be pretty cool. You would be able to fly away from all your enemies and get where you're going much faster. But being invisible? You probably wouldn't use that for the good of man.