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.
Every great batter works on the theory that the pitcher is more afraid of him than he is of the pitcher.
I never could stand losing. Second place didn't interest me. I had a fire in my belly.
I had to fight all my life to survive. They were all against me, but I beat the bastards and left them in the ditch.
A ball bat is a wondrous weapon.
The great trouble with baseball today is that most of the players are in the game for the money and that's it, not for the love of it, the excitement of it, the thrill of it.
The first time I faced him I watched him take that easy windup and then something went past me that made me flinch. The thing just hissed with danger. We couldn't touch him... Every one of us knew we'd met the most powerful arm ever turned loose in a ball park.
The most important part of a player's body is above his shoulders.
The longer I live, the longer I realize that batting is more a mental matter than it is physical. The ability to grasp the bat, swing at the proper time, take a proper stance; all these are elemental. Batting is rather a study in psychology, a sizing up of a pitcher and catcher and observing little details that are of immense importance. It's like the study of crime, the work of a detective as he picks up clues.
When I began playing the game, baseball was about as gentlemanly as a kick in the crotch.
No man has ever been a perfect ballplayer. Stan Musial, however, is the closest to being perfect in the game today.
Don't come home a failure.
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.
I may have been fierce, but never low or underhand.
He batted against spitballs, shineballs, emeryballs and all the other trick deliveries. He never figured anything out or studied anything with the same scientific approach I gave it. He just swung. If he'd ever had any knowledge of batting, his average would have been phenomenal. ... he seemed content to just punch the ball, and I can still see those line drives whistling to the far precincts. Joe Jackson hit the ball harder than any man ever to play baseball.
Walter Johnson's fastball looked about the size of a watermelon seed and it hissed at you as it passed.
He (Shoeless Joe Jackson) was the finest natural hitter in the history of the game.
The great American game should be an unrelenting war of nerves.
I have observed that baseball is not unlike war, and when you get right down to it, we batters are the heavy artillery.
Baseball was one-hundred percent of my life.
I regret to this day that I never went to college. I feel I should have been a doctor.
Just speed, raw speed, blinding speed, too much speed.
When two doctors pass each other on the street they wink at each other.
Every man in the game, from the minors on up, is not only fighting against the other side, but he's trying to hold onto his own job against those on his own bench who'd love to take it away. Why deny this? Why minimize it? Why not boldly admit it?
That boy Mantle is a good one.
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