It seemed like I always did some great hitting in Brooklyn. The field there was close to the stands. Every time I started walking to the plate, I could hear the fans say, 'Here comes that man again. Here comes that man.'
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Somebody once asked me if I ever went up to the plate trying to hit a home run. I said, 'Sure, every time.'
When I was up there at the plate, my purpose was to get on base anyway I could, whether by hitting or by getting hit.
I was a Yankee fan in Brooklyn because my father was a Yankee fan. And my father was required to live in Brooklyn with my mother's family, who were all Dodger fans. So he was surrounded by Dodger fans. He was a Yankee fan. So his revenge was to make me a Yankee fan.
My major league debut came at old Busch Stadium on Grand Avenue in St. Louis against the Pittsburgh Pirates.
As soon as I got out there I felt a strange relationship with the pitcher's mound. It was as if I'd been born out there. Pitching just felt like the most natural thing in the world. Striking out batters was easy.
For years, I have been harboring memories of my first major league game at a place named Ebbets Field in Brooklyn.
I've had plenty of big hits and plenty of big misses.
Every strike brings me closer to the next home run.
To pitch a perfect game wearing pinstripes at Yankee Stadium, it's unbelievable. Growing up a Yankee fan, to come out here and make history, it really is a dream come true.
The fellows that I played with encouraged me to bunt and beat the ball out. I was anxious to make good and did as I was told. When I came to Brooklyn, I adopted an altogether different style of hitting. I stood flat-footed at the plate and slugged. That was my natural style.