Those involved with practical reactors, humbled by their experiences, speak less and worry more.
I'm from Southern California, so I feel much more comfortable with a golf club in my hand than I do a weapon.
The problem with being Comeback Player of the Year is it means you have to go somewhere before you can come back.
Getting into the Hall of Fame won't change me. I'm still going to pass gas and pick my nose like I always do.
It enrages me to see only certain players singled out for the Hall of Fame because they were born with a God-given specialty. When I take my kids to the Baseball Hall of Fame, I want them to experience the full array of talents that make the game what it is today, not just the larger-than-life freaks of nature. I want them to know that you don't have to be the biggest or the strongest to reach your goals, and that hard work and perseverance are also rewarded.
I want to stay around longer than the pitchers who were at the top when I came into the big leagues. I don't want to be gone and have all the old guys - Seaver, Carlton, Ryan and Sutton - still pitching. I got rid of Palmer, now I want to outlast the rest of them.
One curve I'll always remember was when I was pitching for Pittsburgh. Terry Kennedy was a young player with St. Louis. I threw him an 0-2 curve and it snapped. Terry's reaction was to swing straight down, like he was chopping the plate with an axe. It was the last out of the inning. After I ran off the mound, I looked over at the St. Louis dugout. There were players rolling around on the floor, laughing. Poor Terry. I'll have to admit that was a hell of a curveball.
Friends take up time, and I didn't have time.
There are some directors who don't like the set much. They like post-production, where you have all the ingredients in the can - you've got all the footage, all the music, the various effects - and then you have to do the alchemy necessary to make it all good, a long and very key process of putting everything together and making it into the cogent thing that you want.
The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.
Almost every song on OK Computer revolves around how I am afraid computers get up at night and attempt to choke me with their wires. *doesn't laugh*