He (shoeless Joe Jackson) Was The Finest

When I Played Ball, I Didn't Play For Fun. . . . It's No Pink Tea, And Mollycoddles Had Better Stay Out. It's A Contest And Everything That Implies, A Struggle For Supremacy, A Survival Of The Fittest.

He Batted Against Spitballs, Shineballs, Emeryballs And All The Other Trick Deliveries. He Never Figured Anything Out Or Studied Anything With The Same Scientific Approach I Gave It. He Just Swung. If He'd Ever Had Any Knowledge Of Batting, His Average Would Have Been Phenomenal. ... He Seemed Content To Just Punch The Ball, And I Can Still See Those Line Drives Whistling To The Far Precincts. Joe Jackson Hit The Ball Harder Than Any Man Ever To Play Baseball.

Every Man In The Game, From The Minors On Up, Is Not Only Fighting Against The Other Side, But He's Trying To Hold Onto His Own Job Against Those On His Own Bench Who'd Love To Take It Away. Why Deny This? Why Minimize It? Why Not Boldly Admit It?

The Crowd Makes The Ballgame.

The Great Trouble With Baseball Today Is That Most Of The Players Are In The Game For The Money And That's It, Not For The Love Of It, The Excitement Of It, The Thrill Of It.