All in all, I wouldn't call it a bad outing. It was a short outing.
Close don't count in baseball. Close only counts in horseshoes and grenades.
Pitchers did me a favor when they knocked me down. It made me more determined. I wouldn't let that pitcher get me out. They say you can't hit if you're on your back, but I didn't hit on my back. I got up.
But I'm not going to walk Barry Bonds, like some teams do, in the first inning with nobody on.
I always tried to do the best. I knew I couldn't always be the best, but I tried to be.
I just didn't have anything to say, so I said nothing.
If he can hit, he can hit. I don't care if he came from Class Z league.
You have to have a short memory as a closer.
The fan is the one who suffers. He cheers a guy to a .350 season then watches that player sign with another team. When you destroy fan loyalties, you destroy everything.
I know a lot of people on the field - players, coaches, managers - are glad that I'm gone.
It's nice to come into a town and be referred to as the manager of the Cleveland Indians instead of as the first black manager.
Managers don't have as much leverage as they used to have. We can't really be the boss.
People come out to see the players. When do you see a manager anyway? When he's out on the field arguing with the umpires, making a fool of himself and you know you can't win, and when he brings out the line-up card.
The way we're going... if I called up another pitcher, he'd just hang up the phone on me.
At least when it's in French, I won't know what the heck they're saying.
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