Hating the Yankees is as American as pizza pie, unwed mothers, and cheating on your income tax.
When I first signed with the Yankees, the regulars wouldn't talk to you until you were with the team three or four years. Nowadays the rookies get $100,000 to sign and they don't talk to the regulars.
Sure I played, did you think I was born at the age of 70 sitting in a dugout trying to manage guys like you?
I don't think I've ever seen anybody with quicker hands than Soriano.
Here's the pitch. Mantle swings. There's a tremendous drive going into deep left field! It's going, going! It's over the bleachers... over the sign atop the bleachers... into the yards of houses across the street! It's got to be one of the longest runs I've ever seen! How about that!
Here at NBC there is just one more reason to hate the Yankees.
To be manager of the Yankees under the malevolent dictatorship of George Steinbrenner is like being married to Zsa Zsa Gabor - the union is short and sweet.
Wall Street bankers supposedly back the Yankees; Smith College girls approve of them. God, Brooks Brothers, and United States Steel are believed to be solidly in the Yankees' corner... The efficiently triumphant Yankee maching is a great institution, but, as they say, who can fall in love with U.S. Steel?
There's always some youngster coming up- they'll find somebody.
Yeah? For what paper?
The other teams could make trouble for us if they win.
Hey, White, you know where your loyalties are? Right here. The old pinstripes. No! You never wore them... So you have a right to sing the blues.
How come it rains every Hall of Fame weekend? They need to move it to a different weekend.
Some kids dream of joining the circus, others of becoming a major league baseball player. I have been doubly blessed. As a member of the New York Yankees, I have gotten to do both.
Baseball didn't really get into my blood until I knocked off that hitting streak. Getting a daily hit became more important to me than eating, drinking or sleeping.
I talked to the ball a lot of times in my career. I yelled, "Go foul. Go foul."
I'm a little too belligerent. I cuss and swear at people. I yell at umpires and maybe I'm a little to tough at home sometimes. I don't sign as many autographs as I should and I haven't always been that good with writers.
If I played in New York, they'd name a candy bar after me.
I don't care what the situation was, how high the stakes were - the bases could be loaded and the pennant riding on every pitch, it never bothered Whitey. He pitched his game. Cool. Craft. Nerves of steel.
It's an honor to be playing with these four players and to be a part of their fifth World Series title and my first.
Sometimes a week might go by when I don't think about the (perfect) game, but I don't remember when it happened last.
Everyone asks how I felt before the perfect game. You never feel bad when you're in the World Series. You've got all winter to rest.
Maybe they made me captain because I've been here so long. But if I'm supposed to lead by example, then I'll be a terrible captain.
This 20th win means more to me than the perfect game in 1968.
I want players to look neat and responsible. Maybe it's old school, but it's kind of neat when people are always clean.
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