Not After All The Time My Dad

All The Ballparks And The Big Crowds Have A Certain Mystique. You Feel Attached, Permanently Wedded To The Sounds That Ring Out, To The Fans Chanting Your Name, Even When There Are Only Four Or Five Thousand In The Stands On A Wednesday Afternoon.

I Can't Play Any More. I Can't Hit The Ball When I Need To. I Can't Steal Second When I Need To. I Can't Go From First To Third When I Need To. I Can't Score From Second When I Need To. I Have To Quit.

I Don't Care Who You Are, You Hear Those Boos.

It Was All I Lived For, To Play Baseball.

I Always Loved The Game, But When My Legs Weren't Hurting It Was A Lot Easier To Love.