Coming into a game in the eighth or ninth inning is like parachuting behind enemy lines. And sometimes the chute doesn't open. You have to live with that. It's an occupational hazard.
Someone told me just recently that poets are eulogists. It's their job, to eulogize. I didn't know that, but it makes sense. Because in almost every poem of mine there is a loss.
I don't mean to diminish the job, it's a good job and a real pressure job. But I don't think a relief pitcher should ever be the most valuable player of a league. We only play in maybe half of the games. Being a relief pitcher means part-time employment. We're bench players, and bench players shouldn't be M.V.P.
I lull them into a false sense of security by watching me pitch... If overconfidence can cause the Roman Empire to fall, I ought to be able to get a ground ball.
