The 20 Greatest Baseball Quotes of All Time

Everybody loves a good sports quote. Ranging from witty insults to deep, sometimes spiritual, insights into life, a legendary line from our favorite athlete can serve as the inspiration that keeps you going, or as something that simply makes you laugh.

To me, no sport has contributed more generously to our supply of sports quotes than the game of baseball. You can easily spend endless hours reading through quotes relating to our nation’s pastime and trying to decide on a small list of favorites. Trust me. How do you think I came up with my list of The 20 Greatest Baseball Quotes of All-Time? Well, you didn’t think I’d keep them all to myself, did you?

So, grab yourself an ice-cold beer, some ballpark franks, and a few bags of peanuts and have a look for yourself. And don’t worry, you can toss the shells on the floor…we don’t mind.

Baseball’s 20 Greatest Quotes

20. Honus Wagner, Pittsburgh Pirates

“There ain’t much to being a ballplayer, if you’re a ballplayer.”

19. Lou Piniella, Cubs Manager

“Statistics are like bikinis. They show a lot, but never everything.”

18. Leo Durocher, Dodgers Manager

“I have never questioned the integrity of an umpire. Their eyesight, yes.”

17. Al Stump, Ty Cobb Biographer

“Was Ty Cobb psychotic throughout his playing career? The answer is yes.”

16. Richie Ashburn, Philadelphia Phillies

“A good lead-off hitter is a pain in the ass to pitchers.”

15. Rocky Bridges, Minor League Manager

“There are three things the average man thinks he can do better than anyone else: build a fire, run a hotel, and manage a baseball team.”

14. Cy Young, Boston Red Sox

“A man who isn’t willing to work from dreary morn till weary eve shouldn’t think about becoming a pitcher.”

13. Hank Aaron, Atlanta Braves

“The pitcher has got only a ball. I’ve got a bat. So the percentage in weapons is in my favor and I let the fellow with the ball do the fretting.”

12. Mike Schmidt, Philadelphia Phillies

“Anytime you think you have the game conquered, the game will turn around and punch you right in the nose.”

11. Durwood Merrill, AL Umpire

“Baseball is the only sport that lets the managers and coaches go out onto the field and rant and rave”

10. Willie Mays, New York Giants

Interviewer: “Willie, how do you compare this catch with other catches you’ve made?”

Willie Mays: “I don’t compare ‘em, I catch ‘em.”

9. Johnny Bench, Cincinnati Reds

“Slumps are like a soft bed…they’re easy to get into and hard to get out of.”

8. Casey Stengel, Mets Manager

“Come out and see my Amazin’ Mets. I been in the game a hundred years but I see new ways to lose I never knew existed.”

7. Stan Coveleski, Washington Senators

“Lord, baseball is a worryin’ thing.”

6. Tug McGraw, Philadelphia Phillies

“Ninety percent of my salary I spent on booze and women…and the other ten percent I wasted.”

5. Yogi Berra, New York Yankees

“Slump? I ain’t in no slump. I just ain’t hittin’.”

4. Ted Williams, Boston Red Sox

“All I want out of life is that when I walk down the street folks will say, ‘There goes the greatest hitter that ever lived.’”

3. Jim Bouton, New York Yankees

“You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball; and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time.”

2. Lou Gehrig, New York Yankees

“Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth…”

1. W.P. Kinsella, Author of Shoeless Joe (adapted to the screen as Field of Dreams)

“The one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good, and what could be again.”

It goes without saying that objectivity is not something you can really apply to a list such as this. Therefore, it’s inevitable one or more of your favorite quotes went missing. Post your favorite in the comments.

A Voice Immune to Silence

Dear Harry,

I never thought the day would come when I’d have to say goodbye to one of the closest friends I’ve ever had, yet never met. But alas, no one is invincible. Not even you, my friend.

You may not know this, but our friendship began when I was just three years old. You entered my living room one summer evening around 7:35 with the simple flick of an old transistor radio. My father had spent much of the afternoon fixing the old radio on his work bench in the garage and recounting to me the heroics of the 1980 Phillies. He bragged about how he’d pushed me up and down

Broad Street

in a stroller to celebrate the team’s first World Series victory in 20 years. He talked about Charlie Hustle’s game-saving catch and about how he’d somehow found his way into the locker room for the team’s celebration.  

But mostly he talked about you, Harry. He told me that you were the Philadelphia Phillies. He told me that the soothing and drawling tones of your melodic voice would haunt me forever. He told me that listening to Harry Kalas and Richie Ashburn call a baseball game, two of the closest and most legendary friends the game has ever known, was part privilege and part Philadelphia birth rite. He told me so much more on that afternoon as he tinkered with the old radio, but the years have since erased much of it from my mind.

But once the radio was brought back to its former glory later that evening and the familiar sounds of baseball were once again pouring through its dusty speakers, my three year old ears were given a gift they will still remember when they turn 103.

It was you, Harry. It was a Michael Jack Schmidt shot that was “WAAAAAY OUTTA HERE!” It was a Steve Carlton fastball that “struck him right out, outta there!” It was the perfect mix of playful banter and Whitey witticisms between pitches. It was the idle moments, filled only with the loud hush of crowd noise and my longing for the next honey-coated phrase to float effortlessly through your microphone and out through the dusty speakers.

And that’s all it took. I was hooked for life.

A few years later, when my father’s pair of season tickets behind the plate at the Vet finally became his and mine instead of his and my mother’s, an odd little tradition took root in my household. On game nights my father and I, normally both voracious eaters, would suddenly slow down our pace at the dinner table and offer each other a solemn and conspiratorial little wink which had meaning to us and us alone.

And my mother, each time, would shake her head and faithfully remind us that our slow pace would cause us to miss the beginning of the game.

Of course, this was no mystery to us. It was our plan all along.

You see, the first two innings of any Phillies home game we dedicated to you, Harry, as we made our journey up Route 42 and across the Walt Whitman Bridge to catch the rest of the game in person. We just needed you to introduce it to us on the radio, to put us in the right frame of mind for a game.

And, usually, our tradition would continue after the game as well. We’d swing on over to Oregon Avenue to enjoy a Pop’s Water Ice and to sit triple parked in my dad’s car listening to you recount, in your own patented way, the game we had just watched with our own eyes. Only this time, it would sound a whole heck of a lot more like Phillies baseball.

Now, as I near the conclusion to this letter, I realize it’s quite impossible to bid you a final farewell, my friend. Your voice told me the story of baseball when I was barely old enough to walk, and the sport has been swimming around in my veins ever since. When I let you into my living room on that fateful summer day more than a quarter-century ago, I invited you to stay forever. And though other announcers will grace the Phillies broadcast booth from here on out, it’ll always be your voice I’ll hear when I see Phightins take the field.

Thank you, Harry. We’ll never forget.

With Undying Gratitude and Respect,

C.G. Morelli