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Sympathy is charming, but it does not make up for pain.

Sympathy is one of the principles most widely rooted in our nature: we rejoice to see ourselves reflected in another; and, perversely enough, we sometimes have a secret pleasure in seeing the sin which dwells in ourselves existing under a deformed and monstrous aspect in another.

People grow up loving the Yankees and will tell you, and so many people despise the Yankees, and they come from all over the United States.

You're always in the storm's eye, so to speak, when you're with the Yankees.

There are times when a sports figure doesn't deserve sympathy.

You look around baseball and when things go south, that type of fan apathy happens.

Hating the Yankees is as American as pizza pie, unwed mothers, and cheating on your income tax.

Let me tell you something: I love the Yankees. And let me tell you why: because without the Yankees, there is nobody to hate.

Everybody says we hated the Yankees. We didn't hate the Yankees. We just hated the way they beat us.

A crowd always thinks with its sympathy, never with its reason.