I love September, especially when we're in it.

I've witnessed thousands of superior athletes try to becomes hitters and fail at it.

Human beings are pampered by the Lord. Their real tests don't come until later in life.

I'm always amazed when a pitcher becomes angry at a hitter for hitting a home run off him. When I strike out, I don't get angry at the pitcher, I get angry at myself. I would think that if a pitcher threw up a home run ball, he should be angry at himself.

Love soothes wounds, while hatred and violence deepen them.

I was always a self-proclaimed poor slider.

Throwing a knuckleball for a strike is like throwing a butterfly with hiccups across the street into your neighbor's mailbox.