A Tall, Thin Old Man

Baseball Is A Spirited Race Of Man Against Man, Reflex Against Reflex. A Game Of Inches. Every Skill Is Measured. Every Heroic, Every Failing Is Seen And Cheered, Or Booed. And Then Becomes A Statistic.

In Baseball, Democracy Shines Its Clearest. The Only Race That Matters Is The Race To The Bag. The Creed Is The Rule Book. And Color, Merely Something To Distinguish One Team's Uniform From Another's.

I Think If You Checked The Attendance Records Of All The Announcers, You'd Find A Lot Better Record Than You Would Of Anybody Else In Any Other Business Because We Love The Game And Have A Passion For It.

Why The Fairy Tale Of Willie Mays Making A Brilliant World Series Catch, And Then Dashing Off To Play Stickball In The Street With His Teenage Pals. That’s Baseball. So Is The Husky Voice Of A Doomed Lou Gehrig Saying, ‘i Consider Myself The Luckiest Man On The Face Of This Earth.’

Whatever Happens, I'm Ready To Face It.