When Garcia died, and I decided not to play, I came out here.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
The game was here long before I was, and will be here long after I'm gone.
And the two planes that were taking the band and crew that we had taken out to San Diego were flying out after the show. And so I was never supposed to be on that plane.
Mike Matheny, Fernando Vina, Edgar Renteria, Mark McGwire and Darryl Kile... before he died. Those guys took me under their wing and taught me the way to play the game the right way.
It was all I lived for, to play baseball.
Bob Taylor and I playing brothers. And I was a Mexican bandit. And he was the sheriff of the town. And we loved each other. We loved each other very much.
I became the messenger who had to be killed.
Now, when we first started, I would be playing something good and then feel like I wasn't doing the right thing and launch into some idiotic cliche. Luckily for me, Bobby was patient.
I pitched and I played the outfield.
Me and Jerry left because we felt we weren't getting anywhere playing our old songs in tiny clubs. The group was getting stale and staying behind the times.
I can't believe I survived, not only my life, but I am still playing football 'cause half of those eight or nine years I don't even remember.