A Quote by Smoky Joe Wood

I threw so hard (after striking out Art Fletcher & Doc Crandall in the 9th inning of Game 1 of the 1912 World Series) I thought my arm would fly right off my body. — © Smoky Joe Wood
I threw so hard (after striking out Art Fletcher & Doc Crandall in the 9th inning of Game 1 of the 1912 World Series) I thought my arm would fly right off my body.
I threw so hard I thought my arm would fly right off my body.
When I played, I didn't have the strongest arm, and in a game, I never threw it as hard as I could, either.
READ! Books can be as delicious as hot-fudge sundaes, as funny as clowns, as exciting as a baseball game that's tied in the 9th inning, and as beautiful as the best sunset you ever saw.
I was 11 years old and have the same curveball I have now. So I was literally striking everybody out. I always threw hard, and I was bigger than all the kids, so I would throw hard and throw that curveball, and no one could hit me.
I played varsity in high school as a 9th grader. I came off the bench during the first game of the season and had 25 points. Well, I became a starter after that and in the second game I scored 53 points.
Don't write us off. Nobody thought we'd win the World Series in 2005, but we did. There are years when we think we're great, and we're bad. I mean, the funny thing about this game is that you can't figure it out.
I threw the opening pitch at a Blue Jays game, and after the pitch, the mascot asked me if I wanted him to sign the game ball, which I thought was funny. What would he write? "Best Wishes, Some Guy in a Bird Suit"?"
I made a series for ITV, just after I retired from Tests in 2009, called 'Flintoff Versus the World.' The idea was that I would attempt a series of extreme sports - rodeo riding, jumping out of aeroplanes, paragliding, cliff diving. I thought, 'Yeah, it looks fun. It's six weeks having a laugh.'
The conversation between Fletcher and Jonathan Livingston Seagull is centered on why some have achieved more than others . . . are they divine . . . ahead of their times . . . Fletcher says, Well, this kind of flying has always been here to be learned by anybody who wanted to discover it; that's got nothing to do with time. We're ahead of the fashion, maybe. Ahead of the way most gulls fly. Poor Fletch. Don't you believe what your eyes are telling you? All they show is limitations. Look with your understanding, find out what you already know, and you'll see the way to fly.
From minute one, I thought that after I called a game, I said 'Man, I thought I would enjoy calling a game a little more than I probably did.' I thought I would enjoy that part of it. I didn't have the fulfillment that I thought I probably would.
In the 8th inning you can't hear the roar of the 9th, all you can do to hold yourself together, and trust.
'Art or anti-art?' was the question I asked when I returned from Munich in 1912 and decided to abandon pure painting or painting for its own sake. I thought of introducing elements alien to painting as the only way out of a pictorial and chromatic dead end.
A good boxer, in striking the round blow, instead of loosening body and arm, gathers himself into a heap of muscularity and begins his blow where all blows ought to begin, from the solidarity of the right foot.
One curve I'll always remember was when I was pitching for Pittsburgh. Terry Kennedy was a young player with St. Louis. I threw him an 0-2 curve and it snapped. Terry's reaction was to swing straight down, like he was chopping the plate with an axe. It was the last out of the inning. After I ran off the mound, I looked over at the St. Louis dugout. There were players rolling around on the floor, laughing. Poor Terry. I'll have to admit that was a hell of a curveball.
We've got to decide, how much replay do we want? Because if you start doing it from the first inning to the ninth inning, you may have to time the game with a calendar.
If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say in a pleasant and hopeful voice, "Well this isn't too bad, I don't have a left arm anymore but at least nobody will ever ask me if I'm left-handed or right-handed," but most of us would say something more along the lines of, "Aaaaaa! My arm! My arm!"
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