It was a terrible day for baseball, it was a worse day for Congress.
There are only two seasons - winter and Baseball.
Baseball is almost the only orderly thing in a very unorderly world. If you get three strikes, even the best lawyer in the world can't get you off.
Every baseball crowd, like every theatre audience, has its own distinctive attitude and atmosphere.
Now that women are jockeys, baseball umpires, atomic scientists, and business executives, maybe someday they can master parallel parking.
Baseball hasn't forgotten me. I go to a lot of old-timers games and I haven't lost a thing. I sit in the bullpen and let people throw things at me. Just like old times.
I knew when my career was over. In 1965 my baseball card came out with no picture.
A cloud hangs over baseball. It's a cloud called drugs and it's permeated our game.
Baseball is a public trust. Players turn over, owners turn over and certain commissioners turn over. But baseball goes on.
Hitting a baseball well, as in cricket, is a very rare skill. One of most difficult things to do in the world to do, hitting a ball coming at you at ninety miles an hour with a round bat. Wonderful to watch.
For many in baseball September is a month of stark contrast with April, when everyone had dared to hope. If baseball is a lot like life, as pundits declare, it is because life is more about losing than winning.
Finally, for all of us but a lucky few, the dream of playing big-time baseball is relinquished so we can get on with grown-up things.
Donning a glove for a backyard toss, or watching a ball game, or just reflecting upon our baseball days, we are players again, forever young.
But baseball bounced back in the next decade to reclaim its place as the national pastime: new heroes, spirited competition, and booming prosperity gave birth to dreams of expansion, both within the major leagues and around the world.
Baseball presents a living heritage, a game poised between the powerful undertow of seasons past and the hope of next day, next week, next year.