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Jamie Moyer was in his third year as a major league pitcher and was, by his own admission, still wide-eyed, watching everything going on around him and soaking it in. He paid particular attention to older teammates on his Chicago Cubs squad, hoping to emulate habits that had allowed those veterans to extend their careers.
No baseball pitcher would be worth a darn without a catcher who could handle the hot fastball.
I watched the guy that hits a home run, and he comes across the plate and he points skyward, like thanking for the help from the Almighty to hit the home run. And as he does that, I say to myself, 'God screwed the pitcher.' And I don't know how else you look at it.
Every great batter works on the theory that the pitcher is more afraid of him than he is of the pitcher.
A pitcher has to look at the hitter as his mortal enemy.