I stayed up last night and watched the Republican Convention all night long. I watched all of them talk, and listened to them and seen them and I'm not interested in politics. If you watch them and listen to them you can find out why.
I might have been able to make it as a pitcher except for one thing: I had a rather awkward motion and every time I brought my left arm forward I hit myself in the ear.
A shave, please, but don't cut my throat. I may want to do it later myself.
I don't know if he throws a spit ball, but he sure spits on the ball.
Most people my age are dead at the present time and you can look it up.
I chased the balls that Babe Ruth hit. This is the greatest ball club a man could manage.
I broke in with four hits and the writers promptly declared they had seen the new Ty Cobb. It took me only a few days to correct that impression.
I always heard it couldn't be done, but sometimes it don't always work.
How the hell should I know? Most of the people my age are dead. You could look it up.
Good pitching will stop good hitting and vice-versa.