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Bill Veeck

  • American businessman
  • Born February 9, 1914
  • Died January 2, 1986

William Louis Veeck Jr. (; February 9, 1914 – January 2, 1986), also known as "Sport Shirt", was an American Major League Baseball franchise owner and promoter. Veeck was at various times the owner of the Cleveland Indians, St. Louis Browns and Chicago White Sox. As owner and team president of the Indians in 1947, Veeck signed Larry Doby, thus beginning the integration of the American League, and the following year won a World Series title as Cleveland's owner/president. Veeck was the last owner to purchase a baseball franchise without an independent fortune, and is responsible for many innovations and contributions to baseball.Finding it hard to financially compete, Veeck retired after the 1980 Chicago White Sox season.


The true harbinger of spring is not crocuses or swallows returning to Capistrano, but the sound of the bat on the ball.




Every baseball crowd, like every theatre audience, has its own distinctive attitude and atmosphere.




I have discovered in 20 years of moving around a ballpark, that the knowledge of the game is usually in inverse proportion to the price of the seats.




There are only two seasons - winter and Baseball.




I do not think that winning is the most important thing. I think winning is the only thing.




Look, we play the Star Spangled Banner before every game. You want us to pay income taxes, too?




After a month or so in St. Louis, we were looking around desperately for a way to draw a few people into the ball park, it being perfectly clear by that time that the ball club wasn't going to do it unaided.




Baseball is almost the only orderly thing in a very unorderly world. If you get three strikes, even the best lawyer in the world can't get you off.




I try not to break the rules but merely to test their elasticity.




I try not to kid myself. You know, I don't mind romancing someone else, but to fool yourself is pretty devastating and dangerous.




The most beautiful thing in the world is a ballpark filled with people.




I was in the game for love. After all, where else can an old-timer with one leg, who can't hear or see, live like a king while doing the only thing I wanted to do?




The Falstaff people, romantics all, went for it. They were so anxious to find out what I was going to do that they could hardly bear to wait out the two weeks. I was rather anxious to find out what I was going to do, too.




What can I do, I asked myself, that is so spectacular that no one will be able to say he had seen it before? The answer was perfectly obvious. I would send a midget up to bat.



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