I never wanted all this hoopla. All I wanted was to be a good ball player and hit twenty-five or thirty homers, drive in a hundred runs, hit .280 and help my club win pennants. I just wanted to be one of the guys, an average player having a good season.

Now they talk on the radio about the record set by (Babe) Ruth, and (Joe) DiMaggio and Henry Aaron. But they rarely mention mine. Do you know what I have to show for the sixty-one home runs? Nothing, exactly nothing.

Don't quote me on this, but if they ever manage to ban beer advertising in baseball you can kiss the national pastime goodbye.

Maybe I'm not a great man but I damn well want to break the record.

Every day I went to the ballpark in Yankee Stadium as well as on the road people were on my back. The last six years in the American League were mental hell for me. I was drained of all my desire to play baseball.

It's like obituaries, when you die they finally give you good reviews.

I feel that I was a good all-around player, I had good speed, a good arm and could play the outfield.