I had a long conversation with Steve Carlton. He told me that on the days he pitched, he felt it was his responsibility to make everyone around him better, to lift his teammates. That's what I try to do.

I had a million-dollar arm, but I wasn’t thinking enough about how to be a pitcher.

I’ve refined my mechanics, refined my pitches. I’ve gotten more confidence, and I’ve gotten more determination. I’ve got a better idea what I’m doing out there.

When I’m healthy, I can still pitch. I know I can still pitch at that level and get the results that I want.

I expect to win. I’ve never been content with anything I’ve ever done.

When you can throw 97 miles an hour and put the ball over the plate anytime you want, it’s fun.

When I was younger and inexperienced, I was a very animated pitcher. I pitched with a lot of adrenaline. I was my own worst enemy when things weren’t gong well.

I would think flying would be pretty cool. You would be able to fly away from all your enemies and get where you’re going much faster. But being invisible? You probably wouldn’t use that for the good of man.

It’s hard to mix with a crowd when you’re walking down the hallway and everybody else is a foot shorter. I remember hanging out with my friends, like at the mall, and thinking people were staring at me and talking about me. It made me turn inside myself. I became more shy and quiet.

Maybe I’ve lost a little, but I think everyone does over time. People have been writing that I’m getting old every year, and eventually they’re going to be right. There’s nobody in this game that’s doing the same things they once did in the peak years of their career.