As much as we disliked the Yankees, fans and players alike, they were good for baseball. They consistently unsuccessful teams like the Browns, Senators, and A’s paid a lot of their bills with those big crowds that poured through the gates when the Yankees came to town.

I don’t think baseball owes colored people anything. I don’t think colored people owe baseball anything, either.

Sympathy is something that shouldn’t be bestowed upon the Yankees. Apparently it angers them.

The difference between relief pitching when I did it today is simple, there is too much of it. It’s one of those cases where more is not necessarily better.

When I pick up the ball and it feels nice and light and small I know I’m going to have a good day. But if I picked it up and it’s big and heavy, I know I’m liable to get into a little trouble.

You figure they cheat at the ballpark, they’ll cheat on the golf course, they’ll cheat in business, and anything else in life. Players may laugh about it and say it’s funny, but right down in their heart, they don’t think it’s funny at all, and they have no respect for a person who cheats.

I needed to join the Navy. If you ask the people in Europe who won World War II, they don’t say the Allies, they say the United States won the war and saved the world.

My father loved baseball and he cultivated my talent. I don’t think he ever had any doubt in his mind that I would play professional baseball someday.

There was great leadership in this country at the time of World War II. There was also unrelenting resolve at home, in America’s factories and on the farms, in the cities and the country.

I was only a gun captain on the battleship Alabama for 34 months. People have called me a hero for that, but I’ll tell you this – heroes don’t come home. Survivors come home.