I never played with a runner in my entire life, even in schools, because only I know where the ball is going and how hard, when I hit the ball, something my runner will never know about.
The biggest mistake is trying to pinch down on the ball and ripping out a big divot, often hitting the ground before the ball. You'll dig up some turf, but you won't create much backspin.
Tennis taught me so many lessons in life. One of the things it taught me is that every ball that comes to me, I have to make a decision. I have to accept responsibility for the consequences every time I hit a ball.
I often felt as a player in a 4-4-2, you end up being outnumbered in midfield and chasing the ball, so as a manager I liked wingbacks to push forward; it gives the midfield player on the ball three or four options.
Being from New York, everybody's a point guard. Even when you play in the park, you've got to know how to handle the ball. If you can't handle the ball, you can't really play.
You start chasing a ball and your brain immediately commands your body to 'Run forward, bend, scoop up the ball, peg it to the infield,' then your body says, 'Who me?'
The tennis ball doesn't know how old I am. The ball doesn't know if I'm a man or a woman or if I come from a communist country or not. Sport has always broken down these barriers.
When you lose the ability to step up and hit the ball as hard and as far as you want, that also affects your ability to will the ball to go where you want it to go, if you know what I mean.
When you find yourself in a very hard situation, a circumstance that holds you by the balls, that's the time you wish you were created a woman!(women don't own balls)
Frank: Listen, what am I paying my fucking dues for? This is my golf course! If I wanna play here, I will play here. If he gets hit with my titleist, that's his fucking problem. Fore! Fore! [Hits ball] Bill Foster: [the ball barely misses his head; w...
Rose unearthed three crystal goblets that almost matched, and even found a tablecloth that hadn't been attacked by moths since its last public appearance.
Um, h-h-hi,” Sophie stammered, closing the door behind her. Meeting her gaze were crystal eyes like blue shards of glass.
Too bad that miserable tribe died with their secrets.” Tossing the crystal across the table, she announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, the kingdom of the gods is within our grasp.
[poems are] crystals deposited after the effervescent contact of the spirit with reality. (cristaux deposes apres l'effervescent contact de l'esprit avec la realite)
I dream of diving in two places where I have not been yet. One is Antarctica, because of its crystal clear waters and amazing fauna, in addition to the ice cathedrals. The other is the Arctic, where I'd like to see the northernmost kelp forests.
Sound filled the room, a crystal melody that could lift any human heart and turn away any devil. It was "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake.
Xav! Got you. Not letting you go. I realised I wasn't alone in mental deep space; he had always been there and could pilot me home.
If we were never depressed we should not be alive; it is the nature of a crystal never to be depressed.
His eyes were eggs of unstable crystal, vibrating with a frequency whose name was rain and the sound of trains, suddenly sprouting a humming forest of hair-fine glass spines.
A gust of wind doesn't suddenly bang a door open. A clock doesn't chime. The phone doesn't ring. Yet in the next instant the stillness breaks as if it is crystal.
There is a silence so great that I can hear the ice crystals cracking and falling from eyelashes of girls who will never blink again.
