The bat is gone, but the smile remains.
I found myself in a race with Mother Nature to play as much baseball as I could before she forced me to stop.
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.
That's where the future lies, in the youth of today.
People like us are afraid to leave ball. What else is there to do? When baseball has been your whole life, you can't think about a future without it, so you hang on as long as you can.
Judgment traps you within the limitations of your comparisons. It inhibits freedom.
There's nothing I value more than the closeness of friends and family, a smile as I pass someone on the street.
I never search for a reason why - I have faith in the Lord's purpose.
I eventually became proud of my strikeouts, because each one represented another learning experience.