Like some cult religion that barely survives, there has always been at least one but rarely more than five or six devotees throwing the knuckleball in the big leagues . . . Not only can't pitchers control it, hitters can't hit it, catchers can't catch it, coaches can't coach it and most pitchers can't learn it. The perfect pitch.

No one ever grew up intending to be an umpire, except perhaps my friend Bill Haller. His brother Tom wanted to be a catcher, so an affinity for masks must run in that family.

I never called a balk in my life. I didn't understand the rule.

Any umpire who claims he has never missed a play is . . . well, an umpire.

Umpire's heaven is a place where he works third base every game. Home is where the heartache is.

Throwing people out of a game is like learning to ride a bicycle--once you get the hang of it, it can be a lot of fun.

Lou Piniella only argues on days ending with the letter 'y'.