A Quote by Rogers Hornsby

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. — © Rogers Hornsby
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.
When the ball is over the middle of the plate, the batter is hitting it with the sweet part of the bat. When it's inside, he's hitting it with the part of the bat from the handle to the trademark. When it's outside, he's hitting it with the end of the bat. You've got to keep the ball away from the sweet part of the bat. To do that, the pitcher has to move the hitter off the plate.
If a pitcher goes up there and he's throwing a ball and it's a breaking ball down and away or a fastball up and in, a perfect pitcher's pitch, and you're able to just foul it off and stay alive in the at-bat, just keep grinding, keep working through the at-bat and hoping for that mistake that he's going to make. And if he doesn't, then you walk.
I'm not saying this in an egotistical way, but I think there's value in having a good hitter behind the plate and being able to put a bat at first base as well.
I don't feel any pressure when I'm up there at the plate. I feel it when I'm in the on-deck circle, but when I'm in the box, it's just me and the pitcher, and I get zoned in.
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.
Spread the diaper in the position of the diamond with you at bat. Then fold second base down to home and set the baby on the pitcher's mound. Put first base and third together, bring up home plate and pin the three together. Of course, in case of rain, you gotta call the game and start all over again.
I faced odds when glaucoma took the bat out of my hands. But I didn't give in or feel sorry for myself. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: 'It may be cloudy in my right eye, but the sun is shining very brightly in my left eye.'
When I went to home plate in a game-tied situation or with a chance to do something and help the ballclub win one, I'd try to make eye contact with the pitcher.
I never saw a pitcher I didn't feel sorry for.
When you bat, you need to have a lot of patience. I started training for it from the age of eight or nine. So, I knew what I needed when I stepped on the field to bat.
If a stolen base is there based on a pitcher's time to the plate, then steal a bag.
When I'm at the plate, I'm not thinking about what I'm trying to do with the bat - I'm thinking about what the pitcher is trying to do with the ball.
I don't want to sound egotistical, but I'm egotistical to an extent.
I watched the guy that hits a home run, and he comes across the plate and he points skyward, like thanking for the help from the Almighty to hit the home run. And as he does that, I say to myself, 'God screwed the pitcher.' And I don't know how else you look at it.
I don't feel like I sound like anybody from Houston. I don't really feel like I have that Houston flow, that Houston sound. I feel like it's a mixture of all the things I've listened to growing up, or even my mom, in a way. I feel like I have my own style.
turns me on so loud it's like no sound, everybody yelling at me hands over their ears from behind a glass wall, faces working around in talk circles but no sound from the mouths. my sound soaks up all other sound.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!