A sore arm is like a headache or a toothache. It can make you feel bad, but if you just forget about it and do what you have to do, it will go away. If you really like to pitch and you want to pitch, that's what you'll do.
quote by Warren Spahn
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Related quotes
I don't have perfect pitch, but I have relative pitch. I'm glad I don't have perfect pitch because perfect pitch can drive you crazy.
quote by Billy Eckstine
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The number of strokes to the inch controls the pitch of the note: the more, the higher the pitch; the fewer, the lower the pitch, the size of the stroke controls the loudness... the tone quality is the most difficult element to control, it is made by the shape of the strokes.
quote by Norman McLaren
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Why shouldn't we pitch to Babe Ruth? We pitch to better hitters in the National League.
quote by John McGraw
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Learn what pitch you can hit good; then wait for that pitch.
quote by Willie Keeler
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A woman would pitch a joke. Nothing. Then a guy would pitch it and everybody would laugh.
quote by Wanda Sykes
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You can actually have a pitch button, you know, to get people on pitch.
quote by Helena Bonham Carter
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You had to pitch in and out. The zone didn't belong to the hitters; it belonged to the pitchers. Today, if you pitch too far inside, the umpire would stop you right there. I don't think it's fair.
quote by Juan Marichal
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Scratch The Pitch
The lines fade away
They dissapear
The colour of your lips
Wants to move on
So now
The one you are looking for
Is the one without a
Soul,no soul, no soul, no soul
I need no reasons
To feel the wave inside
So hold on
The only thing you
Have to know
Is I see your make up
Scratch the pitch
And fool me around
The times gone
And no oh
Dont forget
Where you are comin from
Hide your make up
2x
If pain and mania
Show us what we are
I draw your skin
And push you way to far
Cause tonight
Im the one youre looking for
One more time feeding your soul
No soul, no soul, no soul
Between the devil
And the deap blue sea
We fly
Cause there in the
Sand on the shore
Lies our fear
Scratch the pitch
And fool me around
The times gone
And no oh
Dont forget
Where you are comin from
Hide your make up
2x
If pain and mania
Show what we are
Ill draw your skin
And push us too far
Push us too far
There in the sand
Of the shores lying your fear
song performed by by Guano Apes
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Best Among The Best
I laid down upon the shore of my bed,
and dreamed of a world i set ablazed.
I heard the great shouting and roaring of my name,
as i kept playing the beautiful round leather game.
The electrifying emotion on the pitch,
and the extraordinary feeling off the pitch,
Made me the best.
Even when faced with a hard test,
i had no option than victory,
cos wen am on the pitch, i cause my opponent misery.
The smooth texture of the grasses,
brought me happiness from the masses.
The joy of winning every match,
brought even more tougher opponent attach.
Every game had something to play for,
and when i don't get a chance to play, makes me bore.
Hearing the screeming of my name from the fans,
only makes my opponent feel banes.
I just want to tell the whole world,
that i am the best in everything i does in the world.
poem by Stanley Oguh
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Music Thy Innerself Reveals
music is the language of the soul,
a rhythm that beats, a meaning that
pitch
it becomes the window of the soul,
a destiny beyond the horizon of
every man's heart
every lyric fulfills every one's soul,
that there is a moment of our life
beneath every breath is a choice
of music to sing
that every life has its own tune,
produces different pitch that when all
is played it gives harmony of meaning
that only you can give the meaning
in every note you sing, that harmonizes
the decrescendo and crescendo in
each line
as it faces the final high pitch, that only
you can reach the melody
the song that you want to listen
as it pleases in your heart
sing every note that you can do,
take always the beautiful pitch that you can
reach, never give up, for only
in singing that music
lives in you
music in you, now its you
poem by Antonio Liao
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Too Darn Hot
(c. porter)
Its too darn hot.
Its too darn hot.
I like to sup with my baby tonight,
Refill the cup with my baby tonight.
I like to sup with my baby tonight,
Refill the cup with my baby tonight.
But I aint up to my baby tonight,
cause its too darn hot.
Its too darn hot.
Its just too darn hot.
I like to coo with my baby tonight,
And pitch the woo with my baby tonight.
I like to coo with my baby tonight,
And pitch the woo with my baby tonight.
But brother you fight my baby tonight,
cause its too darn hot.
According to the kinsey report,
Every average man you know
Much prefers his lovey dovey to court,
When the temperature is low.
But when the thermometer goes way up,
And the weather is sizzling hot.
Mr. pants for romance is not!
Because its too darn hot. (too hot!)
Its too darn hot,
Its too darn hot.
Oh, its too darn hot,
Its too darn hot.
I like to coo with my baby tonight,
And pitch the woo with my baby tonight.
I like to coo with my baby tonight,
And pitch the woo with my baby tonight.
But brother you fight my baby tonight,
cause its too darn hot.
Mr. gob for his squab,
A marine for his queen,
A g.i. for his cutie-pie is not.
Oh its too darn hot,
Its too darn hot,
Its too darn hot!
I gotta get the heat down,
Gotta get the heat down.
song performed by by Erasure
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God makes me play well. That is why I always make the sign of a cross when I walk out on to the pitch. I feel I would be betraying him if I didn't.
quote by Diego Maradona
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Wang Dang Doodle
Tell Automatic Slim
Tell Razor Totin' Jim
Tell Butcher Knife Totin' Annie
Tell Fast Talkin' Fanny
Tonite we're gonna pitch a ball
Down to that union hall
Gonna romp and tromp 'till midnite
We're gonna fuss and fight 'till daylight
We're gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all nite long
Tell Poodle I'll tell him here
Tell Albert I'll see him near
Tell old Pistol Pete
Everybody gonna meet
Tonite we need no rest
We're really gonna throw a mess
We're gonna break out all the windows
Gonna kick down all the doors
We're gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all nite long
Tell Fats and Washboard Sam
That everybody's gonna jam
Just shake it Boxcar Joe
We got sawdust on the floor
Tell Chicken Head Till I Die
We're gonna have a time
When the fish head fills the air
Be snuff juice everywhere
We're gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all nite long
song performed by by Grateful Dead
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Yeah Mahn
Guided by the light.
Guided by the light.
Not too many people know,
They're guided by the light.
And when you pitch in a little bit,
That light turns on.
When you give just a little bit,
That light turns on.
And when you pitch in a little bit,
Those things wrong...
Get up to leave,
And you'll see them gone.
Guided by the light.
Guided by the light.
Everyday in everyway,
We're guided by the light.
When you pitch in a little bit,
That light turns on.
And when you give just a little bit,
That light turns on.
And when you pitch in a little bit,
Those things wrong...
Get up to leave,
And you'll see them gone.
Yeah mahn.
Yeah mahn.
Guided by the light.
Guided by the light.
Not too many people see,
We're guided by the light.
Just pitch in a little bit,
That light turns on.
Just a little bit of you in it.
And the light is on.
And when you pitch in a little bit,
Those things wrong...
Get up to leave,
And you'll see them gone.
Giving up a little bit,
Yeah mahn.
Try a little bit of it,
Yeah mahn.
And when you pitch in a little bit,
Those things wrong...
Get up to leave,
And you'll see them gone.
Giving up a little bit,
Yeah mahn.
Try a little bit of it,
Yeah mahn.
And when you pitch in a little bit,
With a bit of you in it...
Those things wrong,
Get up to leave...
And you'll see them gone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bloody Football Pitch
There I lie
Dead on the pitch
What did I do wrong
As I lay on my knees
Gun pointed to my head
On that football pitch
In Afghanistan
These big men
Turbans and beards
Rifles and Korans
Grabbed me from my home
Because I was talking to a man
Not my husband or relation
They struck me many times
Beat me
Covered me in the blue cloth
That covers me from head to toe
What a hot day it was
When the gun was pointed to my head
Why did so many people attend
This event
A public execution
Wild animals
It always attracts
I was no gladiator
I should not have been the centre of attention
I had no opportunity to fight for my freedom
They grabbed me
Beat me
Accused me
Convicted me
I committed no crime
I was a faithful wife
I died so that these fuckers
Could make a show
Of their power
Their law
Their Sharia
Their dominance
Their hatred
For me and my kind
I was just a woman
A mother and wife
Now I am gone
Because of the rifle
The coward riding in the jeep
Blew my head to bits
So there I lie
On the bloody football pitch
A fucking mess
poem by James Dylan
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Apprehensive lovers…
One wore the trousers
And went about singing,
Fearful of leaving…
Without; first drinking…
One wore black hose
Miniskirts, barefooted:
Without; thinking or caring…
When out dancing and twirling…
Together they’d kiss or pitch battle
Pitch battle or again fall in love
They were like wings on either shoulder
There were times when I couldn’t fly…
Without one, and surely, without the other…
But; together we were like sisters
And brothers…
Together—we were happy village muckers.
Though they had all the difficulties
Of being; apprehensive lovers…
poem by Mark Heathcote
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My Love For You
My love for you is like the blackest pitch
that runs in a narrow furrow down a wall,
pools on the floor in a heart-shaped scrawl
or then again, like albumen,
white, pearlescent, watery-thick
glowing in the fried-and-eaten dark
half-part scratch and half-part itch-
my love for you is like the blackest pitch.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Love
My love for you is like the blackest pitch
that runs in a narrow furrow down a wall,
pools on the floor in a heart-shaped scrawl
or then again, like albumen-
white, pearlescent, watery-thick,
aglow in the fried-and-eaten dark
half-part scratch and half-part itch
my love for you is like the blackest pitch.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Keep Your Eyes On the Pitch
Keep your eyes on the pitch.
Don't choke up!
Or switch hit.
If you do this right,
You'll score guaranteed home runs.
And every base you touch,
By strategic devotion...
With a discipline that's meant!
You can expect,
Yourself to be prepared...
For more to come.
Since the ingredients to do this...
Have begun to sink in.
You are better than sitting,
Twiddling with your thumbs on your backside.
You are better when in the mix.
Holding that bat,
With a pride you can not resist.
Stir up that motivation!
Don't allow it to blur.
When you are focused,
There is no challenge that comes to match.
When you are focused and that is made known...
Your detractors will take two steps back.
Just keep your eye on that pitch!
Don't swing at anything and then throw fits.
Don't dare choke up or switch hit.
Practice and rehearse,
As if your life depends on it!
Stay energized!
And if you do this right,
You'll score guaranteed home runs.
And every base you touch,
By strategic devotion...
With a discipline that's meant!
You can expect,
Yourself to be prepared...
For more to come.
If your desires are to aspire to get beyond,
Striking out!
To be left undone.
There is more to life,
Than knowing when and how to play the game.
There is more to life that can be welcomed.
If you are flexible enough,
To know when to duck.
And not be strickened or become awestruck!
Don't look to either side.
Up or down.
It's not worth it.
Focus and look forward.
Just keep your eyes on that pitch.
And if it is not thrown the way you want it...
Don't blow a gasket to have a tantrum and quit!
Keep your eyes glued on that pitch.
And if you hear a 'boo' at all...
Don't you worry about it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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At The Minor's Field
The Li'l Leaguer's now in uniforms,
And the ball game is ‘bout to begin.
My young hero in position one,
For the Orioles against the Indians;
Kevin stepped on the pitcher's plate,
"Go! Orioles, " the parents cheered.
"Batter's in, " the umpire yelled,
He pitched, the ball went wild.
"Ball, " the umpire called. Again,
He pitched to the batter's shin.
Hit by pitch, the batter walks on base,
Still at first when the catcher missed.
"Ball, " 2 and 0, the umpire signed,
And some parents began to whine.
Bases are loaded but all walks,
And their slugger is up to bat.
Pitch by pitch, she tried to hit,
A foul, a tip, the third, she missed.
With one out on the score board,
The outfielders are getting bored.
The next batter, my neighbor's son,
He tried the same as hard as he can,
Swing after swing, he lost his chance;
The ball was caught, two out at once.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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