If I knew I was going to live this long, I'd have taken better care of myself.

After I hit a home run I had a habit of running the bases with my head down. I figured the pitcher already felt bad enough without me showing him up rounding the bases.

A team is where a boy can prove his courage on his own. A gang is where a coward goes to hide.

But god-damn, to think you're a .300 hitter and end up at .237 in you last season, then find yourself looking at a lifetime .298 average - it made me want to cry.

Hitting the ball was easy, running around the bases was the tough part.

I don't care who you are, you hear those boos.

If I had played my career hitting singles like Pete Rose, I'd wear a dress.

I hated to bat against Don Drysdale. After he hit you he'd come around, look at the bruise on your arm and say, "Do you want me to sign it?"

Sometimes I think if I had the same body and the same natural ability and someone else's brain, who knows how good a player I might have been.

They (the Athletics) should have come out of the dugout on tippy-toes, holding hands and singing.

You don't realize how easy this game is until you get up in that broadcasting booth.