I ain't as fast as I used to be, but I'm a better pitcher. I used to overpower them; now I out-cute them.

In 1960 I had made the transition from thrower to pitcher and had not understood that in making the transition I had made a beginning, not an end. you become a pitcher before you become a good pitcher. [...] Nor do I wish to testify under oath that I have not forgotten, do not—and will not—forget from time to time and revert to the wayward ways of my youth. It's usually when I'm tired or mad, but dumbness is not to be completely discounted either. In the 1965 All-Star Game I was terribly wild. I came into the game in the sixth inning and immediately threw seven straight balls. Although I got out of the inning, it was a struggle with every batter. [...] There was not a thing wrong with my arm. My arm was fine. My head was something else again. Knowing that I was only going to pitch an inning or two, I had thought, "Well, hell, I'll just go in and throw as hard as I can." And there I was, right back where I'd been ten years ago, wild high.

I was known for my fastball and curve and did well with just those two pitches, but people don't know that I tried to add a third pitch, any third pitch. For a long time, I tried to learn the changeup. The Dodgers taught the changeup in a certain way - it was the Dodgers' changeup - and I tried to learn it for ten years but never got the hang of it. I never liked my changeup, and I never wanted to throw it. One day, I was playing catch and started to fool around with the forkball, and it felt more comfortable to me. I said, "Well, I'm gonna try this instead of the changeup." So I started to throw it, but I only used it occasionally in games, because I didn't throw it hard enough.I also threw the slider a couple of times. I threw the slider to Henry Aaron and Roberto Clemente, because I figured if it worked on those two great hitters, then I had something there. So I threw it to Aaron and almost hit him in the face. He reached out to get it, and it came right at him. And I threw it to Clemente. You may remember that in Forbes Field in Pittsburgh, there was a light tower by where they used to park the batting cage. Halfway up. there was a bunch of transformers. Well, Clemente hit it off a transformer. I said, "Well, maybe I don't have a slider," and I gave it up. So, I never came up with a third pitch.

I'd never show up a pitcher by standing in the batters box and watching how far the ball goes like a lot of players do now. But it made me feel good to know I could hit a ball longer than anyone else. It tickled the hell out of me. It was like playing in a golf tournament and hearing all the ohhs and ahhs when you hit a good drive. I mean, every time I swung at it I was trying to hit it longer than the time before. I'm sure that was why I struck out so much, but I'd get a kick out of it. Poor Casey would get so mad. He'd say, "Hey butcher boy, just make contact." But he couldn't get me to change. In fact, Whitey told me just last year that I'd shut my eyes just before I lunged.

In pitching, control is the main thing—one thing you've got to have. Few pitchers have it. In batting, it is timing—waiting on the ball, not hurrying the swing—just as it is in golf. Most hitters in baseball swing too quickly. They can't wait on the pitch. Old Joe Jackson could wait. So could Speaker and Cobb

Last year wasn't Seaver's kind of year, but he's still an impressive pitcher, still strong. Like McLain, Marichal and Gibson, he has the good stuff and control. I mean he can make an excellent fastball or curve and throw it in good spots. A guy who throws what he intends to throw—that's the definition of a good pitcher.

pitching is one of those business skills that depends heavily on the method you use and not how hard you try. Better method, more money. Much better method, much more money.

Leo never was much of a hitter. I tried to help him once. I suggested that he become a switch-hitter and that if he did, his average would jump up to .400. "Two hundred right-handed and two hundred left," I said.

Guessing what the pitcher is going to throw is 80 percent of being a successful hitter. The other 20 percent is just execution. The mental aspects of hitting were especially important to me. I was strictly a guess hitter, which meant I had to have a thorough knowledge of every pitcher I came up against and develop a strategy for hitting him. My method was to identify the pitches a certain pitcher had and eliminate all but one or two and then wait for them. One advantage I had was quick wrists. Another advantage — and one that all good hitters have — was my eyesight. Sometimes I could read the pitcher's grip on the ball before he ever released it and be able to tell what pitch he was throwing. I never worried about the fastball. They couldn't throw it past me, none of them.

Pitching is the art of instilling fear, making the man flinch by making him look for the wrong pitch. You're trying to control his instincts. But if your control is suspect like Ryan's is, and the thought of being hit is in the batter's mind, you'll go a long way.

I hear people say I swing at bad pitches. What is a bad pitch? If I can hit it, it's not a bad pitch.

Nowadays, when a pitcher gets a ball close to the hitter, the hitter comes back to the bench and says: "You know, I think he's throwing at me." That shows you how times have changed. When I broke in, you knew damned well they were throwing at you.

I copied Jackson's style because I thought he was the greatest hitter I had ever seen, the greatest natural hitter I ever saw. He's the guy who made me a hitter.

That was when I realized I had become a pro. I had not yet had a success. But I had had a real failure.