If I were a Major League ballplayer, I'd want to be a pitcher. I wouldn't overpower hitters, but I'd be sneaky. Hitters would bounce grounder after grounder to the keystone combo, and I might snag a few comebackers myself. I wouldn't walk anyone, ever. I wouldn't even go to three balls on many hitters.

If I were a Major League ballplayer, I'd want to be Greg Maddux. My fastball would only hit 88 mph on the radar gun, but I'd still throw my heater more often than any other pitcher in the game. I'd use whoopee cushions, Ben Gay, and fake dog turds to excellent humorous effect in the clubhouse. I'd obsessively hit in the batting cages even though it wasn't part of my primary job description. I'd let everyone think I was the nerdiest nerd of baseball's pitching elite, and I wouldn't give a damn.

Greg Maddux, in a Tom Boswell interview for Playboy Magazine, August 1996. (And, by the way, I can legitimately claim that I do read Playboy only for the articles):

You don't have to throw hard, because people can't judge speed anyway. We can go out on the freeway right now and we can't tell 80 miles per hour from 70 mph unless one car is passing the other. And if we stay there long enough, 70 mph starts to look like 40 mph. Your eye adjusts if it sees the same speed over and over. It's the same to a hitter. If he sees 95-95-95, it starts to look like 50 to him. Eventually, he can time it. You can be more effective throwing 90 to 80, and changing speeds with good location. In fact, you can be almost as effective working between 80 and 70.

If I were a Major League ballplayer, I'd want the confidence to know that how hard I threw the ball didn't matter as much as how smartly I varied my approach. I'd want my life to be simple, and my philosophies to lack pretension. Change speeds. Throw it somewhere else. Do what I can with what I've got.

If I were a Major League ballplayer, I'd want to be Greg Maddux. Who would you want to be?