When I played ball, I didn't play for fun. . . . It's no pink tea, and mollycoddles had better stay out. It's a contest and everything that implies, a struggle for supremacy, a survival of the fittest.

The base paths belonged to me, the runner. The rules gave me the right. I always went into a bag full speed, feet first. I had sharp spikes on my shoes. If the baseman stood where he had no business to be and got hurt, that was his fault.

Just speed, raw speed, blinding speed, too much speed.

The great American game should be an unrelenting war of nerves.

Most collisions out on the fields are needless.

I've been called one of the hardest bargainers who ever held out, and I'm proud of it.

I have observed that baseball is not unlike war, and when you get right down to it, we batters are the heavy artillery.