The first I remember throwin' was that lonesome fastball blowin'
And a youngin's dream of growin' up to pitch.
On a freight train leavin' Japan, not knowin' where I was bound
No one could steer me right, but Lasorda tried.
Was the only pitcher child from a family meek and mild
Mama seemed to know what lay in store
In spite of all my Sunday throwin'
For the bad I kept on turnin' and mama couldn't catch me anymore.
And I'll turn 31 in Shea, doin' life without parole
No one could steer me right, but Apodaca tried, Daca tried
Daca tried to raise me better, but his pleadin' I denied
That leaves no one but me to blame cause Daca tried.
Dear old Lasorda rest his bones, left my Apodaca a heavy load
He tried so very hard to fill his shoes
Workin' hours without rest, wanted me to pitch my best
Oh he tried to teach me right, but I refused.
And I'll turn 31 in Shea, doin' life without parole
No one could steer me right, but Apodaca tried, Daca tried
Daca tried to teach me better, but his pleadin' I denied
That leaves no one but me to blame cause Apodaca tried. |