Last Year, I Was Sort Of A

You Visualize [pitches]. You See It In Your Head; You Think It...i Used To Play Every Pitcher In My Mind Before I Went To The Ballpark. I Started Getting Ready For Ever Game The Moment I Woke Up.

I Had Many, Many, Many Death Threats. I Couldn't Open Letters For A Long Time, Because They All Had To Be Opened By Either The Fbi Or Somebody. I Couldn't Open Letters. I Had To Be Escorted. In Fact, Just Recently I Went To A Funeral, Calvin Wardlaw, Who Was The Detective -- The Policeman -- With Me For Two Years, Passed Away Just Recently. He And I Got To Be Bosom Buddies Really, But That Was The Hardest Part. I Wasn't Able To Enjoy -- You Know.

I Thought My Chances To Make The Braves Were Better And That They Were Being Fairer To Me, Paying Me More Money To Play In A Lower Classification ... Besides, The Giants Spelled My Name "arron" On Their Telegram.

The Way I See It, It's A Great Thing To Be The Man Who Hit The Most Home Runs, But It's A Greater Thing To Be The Man Who Did The Most With The Home Runs He Hit. So As Long As There's A Chance That Maybe I Can Hammer Out A Little Justice Now And Then, Or A Little Opportunity Here And There, I Intend To Do As I Always Have -- Keep Swinging.

I Can't Recall A Day This Year Or Last When I Did Not Hear The Name Of Babe Ruth.