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When I stepped into the box, I felt the at-bat belonged to me. Everybody else was there for my convenience. The pitcher was there to throw me a ball to hit. The catcher was there to throw it back to him if he didn't give me what I wanted the first time. And the umpire was lucky that he was close enough to watch.

The hits and the misses. I just want to keep the at-bats solid.

I've got a right to knock down anybody holding a bat.

And, you know, you try and preach to them there's more to this game than just walking up to home plate, swinging the bat, fielding a ground ball. There's some dedication in it, some love you've got to put into this work.

I'm not afraid to swing the bat. If they elect to pitch to me, I'm going to swing. I'm not as picky as Mr. Sheffield. I'll swing at something over my head.

Just because you're down to your last strike, you're not out yet. You can always do more. You'll always have more at-bats to take. That's true in baseball, in rescuing animals, and in life, generally.

I don't like to sound egotistical, but every time I stepped up to the plate with a bat in my hands, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the pitcher.

Not everybody's a baseball fan.