Bleachers Quotes

I've always thought of myself as an Expo. I probably had better seasons with the Cubs. The fan base and the bleacher bums at Wrigley Field were so enthusiastic compared to later years with the Expos.

I'm sitting in the bleachers, watching longingly as all the boys and umbumped girls in my Personal Health and Fitness class play Muggle Quidditch. I don't even like the game very much, I think it's silly, but I so miss physical activity that I'd be thrilled if I could run around the gymnasium with a broom between my legs, chasing after the human snitch wearing a gold pinny.

If you like soccer, then welcome to America. See, our country already has entertainment so watching people chase a ball for four hours to end 0 - 0 is not enjoyable - unless, of course, the bleachers collapse and half of Europe dies.

In sum, do not insult me with the beheadings, finger choppings or the lung-deflations you plan for my works. I need my head to shake or nod, my hand to wave or make into a fist, my lungs to shout or whisper with. I will not go gently onto a shelf, degutted, to become a non-book. All you umpires, back to the bleachers. Referees, hit the showers. It's my game. I pitch, I hit, I catch. I run the bases. At sunset I've won or lost. At sunrise, I'm out again, giving it the old try. And no one can help me. Not even you.

Vision is easy. It's so easy to just point to the bleachers and say I'm going to hit one over there. What's hard is saying, OK, how do I do that? What are the specific programs, what are the commitments, what are the resources, what are the processes we need in play to go implement the vision, turn it into a working model that people follow every day in the enterprise. That's hard work.

Here's the pitch. Mantle swings. There's a tremendous drive going into deep left field! It's going, going! It's over the bleachers... over the sign atop the bleachers... into the yards of houses across the street! It's got to be one of the longest runs I've ever seen! How about that!

We were into the Speedway. We'd take a train out to the Speedway where farmers had flatbed trucks with bleachers on them. They'd park in the infield and we'd sit on those. Our heroes weren't the drivers, they were the pit crews. That's because we were local, and we knew what was going on.

The further I wake into this life, the more I realize that God is everywhere and the extraordinary is waiting quietly beneath the skin of all that is ordinary. Light is in both the broken bottle and the diamond, and music is in both the flowing violin and the water dripping from the drainage pipe. Yes, God is under the porch as well as on top of the mountain, and joy is in both the front row and the bleachers, if we are willing to be where we are.

Light is in both the broken bottle and the diamond.

The true speech of man is idiomatic, if not of the earth and sky, then at least of the saloon and the bleachers.

The extraordinary is waiting quietly beneath the skin of all that is ordinary.

If there are bleachers in heaven and a warm sun, that's where you'll find Bill Veeck.

...When it was finished, the scaled dragon looked around and as the thing spotted V, a growl rippled up to the bleachers, then ended in a snort. "You finished, big guy?" Va called down. "FYI, goalpost over there would work righteous as a toothpick.

I don't get pat down, you know what's on the waist, I don't mean Jazz when I say I "count base." Fly Louis sneakers, Purple Tape coming out the speakers, Bumped into my high school teachers, They said I wouldn't be nothing, sitting on the bleachers. Now I'm sitting in the Phantom, trynna figure out the features. I'm a big fish now, I watch for the leeches.

The other day, I was so desperate for a beer, I snuck into the football stadium and ate the dirt under the bleachers.

All you umpires, back to the bleachers. Referees, hit the showers. It's my game. I pitch, I hit, I catch. I run the bases. At sunset, I've won or lost. At sunrise, I'm out again, giving it the old try.

I have always been a firm believer that the game has never belonged to the owners. It has never belonged to the ballplayers. It belongs to the guy who puts his money up on the window and says, 'How much does it cost to sit in the bleachers?' That is who owns baseball. And it has got to be kept that way.

That guy in a twenty-five cent bleacher seat is as much entitled to know a call as the guy in the boxes. He can see my arm signal even if he can't hear my voice.

My fondest memories were watching the Beastie Boys get prepped to come on stage. They had a lot of antics and they play a lot of basketball... then they were giving out cameras to the crowd, and performing from the bleachers. The most important thing I learned was that you control your crowd, not the other way around.

If I ever form a clan, we'll be the anti-cheerleaders and walk under the bleacher forming mild acts of mayhem.

No one gets out of the game of life alive. You either die in the bleachers, or on the field. So, you might as well play out on the field, and go for it.

I've written in every imaginable location; a repurposed closet, the kitchen table, the bleachers while my kids had basketball practice, the front seat of the car when they were at soccer. In airports. On trains. In the break room when I was supposed to be wolfing down dinner. In the back of classrooms when I was supposed to be paying attention.

The Lord didn't make Lehi a mere spectator, watching and learning from afar. Instead, the Lord taught his prophet by taking him out of the bleachers and placing him right in the middle of the action.