I guess you could say I’ve lived on the corners my whole life, more than even the most desperate of Hollywood rejects, perhaps. Corner bars, the corners of strike zones, and the corners of people’s lives, and what’s good for me is always in the corner of my mind cause I have too much else on my mind to care about whether I can pay the bills tomorrow… The only place I’ve ever felt at home is on that mound.
My only weapons may be an 85-mph fastball and a couple of trick pitches, plus a lot of guts and know-how. Perhaps I don’t know as much as people think I do, but I’ve always been able to find every strength and weakness of every player I’ve played with. Some weaknesses go deeper than you think; they’re in the man, and not just the player. Works the same ways with strengths.
I’ve lived on the fringe of the majors for a long time now, good enough to be there, but not good enough to be paid anything much over the minimum, great money, but not enough to put me in the millionaire club. I don’t spend much, don’t have to, ‘cause most of that goes to my kids, and better it go to their growing up to be decent human beings than to entertain my dumb ass.
All I’ve got is my I-pod and enough beer to drown twenty men. But I drink it slowly. Better to enjoy what life I have left now, you know.
Ballgames are about it now. When I’m not pitching, I go wherever there’s ball, Hawaii, Georgia, Arizona, even Cuba a couple times, Puerto Rico… Always root for the underdog. I’ve made my share of calls to sign up a few promising kids, a couple even made it – good for them! They did the work, so stop calling me a freaking talent finding genius. I just know what makes a decent human being, and believe it or not, I also know how to get the baseball out of not so decent human beings, too.
Pitching is playing with heads, and that’s what I’ve done so well.
Painting the corners is the rest of it. And let me tell you the graffiti etched into this corner bar I’m writing at is pretty creative…