Gary Carter Quotes

My earliest memories of going to Fenway with my father are a blur: many games, me too young to care, but aware that our team 'stunk.' In those years, the 1960s, the Red Sox baseball card I always coveted most was not Carl Yastrzemski's but the far more ordinary Felix Mantilla's.

It didn't happen, but I feel fortunate for the two chances we had and it's just a shame we didn't go to a World Series for Cub fans.

The great thing about baseball is when you're done, you'll only tell your grandchildren the good things. If they ask me about 1989, I'll tell them I had amnesia.

I am a huge Red Sox fan.

But I'm not looking forward to trying to strike out a lot of guys.

We all know the Red Sox did not win a World Series for 86 years after unloading Ruth, and the Cubs just might be carrying some heavy weight for past karmic transgressions.

I had an opportunity with Baltimore to make it to the World Series, and that didn't happen.

The truth is that for those 86 long years when the Red Sox went without a World Series win, fans were not only in a recession, but trapped in a longstanding, deeply entrenched sports depression.

I remember when I wanted every pitch to be a strike.

I have my loyalty to the team of my youth. Everyone I knew was a Red Sox fan. The team that I grew up with was constantly the underdog but managed to prevail.

Up until the time I was 14 years old, I was sure that I was going to be a big-league baseball player. But that dream came to a rude awakening when I got cut from my high school baseball team.

Every kid in America dreams of playing in the big leagues and they don't, just because. It's not because they blew out their knee. It's just because they didn't make it.

Having been aware of the Red Sox since the 1946 World Series, having been growled at by Ted Williams as a young reporter in 1960, having been present at the horror of 1986 and the comeback of 2004, I have seen the highs and lows of some other people's favorite team.

Son, what kind of pitch would you like to miss.

This dream of King’s is going to be turned into a nightmare

Time and time again, I see former teammates, and we talk about it. It feels like we are all on the same page: We enjoyed the regular season, but we were disappointed in not making the World Series.

The only thing I'd ever wanted in my life was to be a major-league ballplayer, but I had to admit to myself that I wasn't good enough. It broke my heart.

Three of my childhood dreams went unfulfilled. I never saw a no-hitter, never saw a triple play, and never caught a ball that had been hit into the stands. But I did see the Yankees beat the Brooklyn Dodgers in a World Series game when I was 10.

I had pinned all my hopes on the theater.

I obviously hoped that everything that I found would make a difference. It ended up being way behind my wildest dreams.

Bart Giamatti did not grow up (as he had dreamed) to play second base for the Red Sox. He became a professor at Yale, and then, in time president of the National Baseball League. He never lost his love for the Boston Red Sox. It was as a Red Sox fan, he later realized that human beings are fallen, and that life is filled with disappointment. The path to comprehending Calvinism in modern America, he decided, begins at Fenway Park.

The old dreams were good dreams; they didn't work out but I'm glad I had them.

Some disappointment is always the price of brave dreaming.

1946, if my memory is correct. Harry "The Cat" Brecheen went against the Red Sox in Game 7. I stayed home to listen, practically had my head inside the radio.

You count on it, you rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then, just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.