I've learned over the years that it doesn't matter where you pitch in the rotation. For me, preparation is everything.
You can go up in the air and everything is gone. You know, you don't think about baseball. You don't think about anything. It's just something that takes you away from everyday life. I love being in a plane and looking down to see traffic on the freeway.
Really, anyone can learn how to fly. If you can drive a bus, you can fly an airplane.
On the days I'm pitching, it's almost a coin flip as to know if the guys behind me are going to be there to play 100%.
The flying? I'm not worried about it. I'm safe up there. I feel very comfortable with my abilities flying an airplane.
I may not be in the weight room as much as some guys, but I get my work done.
I made a lot of good friends in Philadelphia and the last thing that I would want to do is dog anyone in that clubhouse. If I made it sound like that, it was a mistake.
If I don't make the team out of spring training, I'll keep a good attitude. I'll just go polish up the parts of my game that made me not stay in the big leagues.
Ninety-nine percent of pilots that go up never have engine failure, and the 1 percent that do usually land it. But if you're up in the air and something goes wrong, you pull that parachute, and the whole plane goes down slowly.
Sometimes I felt I got caught up kind of going into the clubhouse non-chalantly sometimes, because all of the other guys in the clubhouse didn't go there with one goal in mind.
You've never seen Manhattan 'til you've flown right up the East River. It's beautiful.
