I cant swing a dead cat without hitting a reporter.
When you come to the New Testament you can't even swing a cat without hitting three demons and two spirits. And magic becomes something that is everywhere. In the Hebrew Bible this sort of thing doesn't go on.
The toughest thing in hitting shouldn't be deciding when to swing. It is, for me, deciding when not to swing. You should be swinging from the time you get into the batter's box until something says don't swing.
Oh cat, I'd say, or pray: be-ootiful cat! Delicious cat! Exquisite cat! Satiny cat! Cat like a soft owl, cat with paws like moths, jewelled cat, miraculous cat! Cat, cat, cat, cat.
Swing your swing. Not some idea of a swing. Not a swing you saw on TV. Not that swing you wish you had. No, swing your swing. Capable of greatness. Prized only by you. Perfect in it's imperfection. Swing your swing. I know, I did.
Place hitting is, in a sense, glorified bunting. I only take a half swing at the ball, and the weight of the bat rather than my swing is what drives it.
When it comes to hitting solid drives, the secret is to swing within yourself. I know that sounds like a cliche, but it's true. If you swing at 100 miles per hour and hit it on the toe, you won't hit the ball as far as you would with an 80-mph swing that catches the ball in the center of the clubface.
I try to keep it real simple. I try not to add a lot of frosting on what I'm doing. Just take the swing and don't muscle the swing, because if you get in the hitting position and you take the swing, I generate a lot more bat speed, and that works for me.
Dividing the swing into its parts is like dissecting a cat. You'll have blood and guts and bones all over the place. But you won't have a cat.
Most amateurs are so worried about mis-hitting the shot or hitting it off line, they don't make an aggressive move. You'd be surprised how much better your swing will get if you let your natural athletic ability shine. So go after it.
I have often seen a cat without a grin - but a grin without a cat - remember the cat kept appearing and disappearing slowly bit by bit.
If you were in a burning house and there was a cat and a Rembrandt, what would you save? The cat...you would save the cat, because the cat is alive. The art is dead. It's just paint on a canvas, ink on a page. To live for art is to deny life. It's just to destroy life.
To the pure geometer the radius of curvature is an incidental characteristic - like the grin of the Cheshire cat. To the physicist it is an indispensable characteristic. It would be going too far to say that to the physicist the cat is merely incidental to the grin. Physics is concerned with interrelatedness such as the interrelatedness of cats and grins. In this case the "cat without a grin" and the "grin without a cat" are equally set aside as purely mathematical phantasies.
There is not room to swing a cat.
There wasn't room to swing a cat there.
I'm more proud of the good rounds I've played while hitting the ball badly than of the great rounds while hitting the ball well. I understand my swing well enough to get myself through a tournament and win it. I've made it work.