You'll see that when the tides slow down, everything slows down.

I think [it bothers him] more so in the field than at the plate. It's when he slows down or takes off or when he dives for a ball and hits it wrong, those are the times you see it. He's had to play with it all year and some days it's better than others. We've tried to monitor it and give him a day off when he needs a day off. The way he's swinging right now, it's hard to give him a day off.

I don't know how he practices. He has adequate speed for the position when he's healthy, and anytime something slows him down, he'll make up for it mentally. He's that kind of player; he'll make the adjustments and still be one of our better players.

I saw the long line of the vacant shore, The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand, And the brown rocks left bare on every hand, As if the ebbing tide would flow no more.

The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; . . . . The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls.

The western tide crept up along the sand, And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see The rolling mist came down and hid the land: And never home came she.