Love Quote by David Ortiz

Ortiz is talking about adrenaline, but he frames it as something communal rather than chemical: the crowd isn’t background noise, it’s a force that physically “puts you into the game.” The phrasing matters. “Walking on deck” is baseball’s liminal space, the few seconds where you’re not yet acting, just absorbing. By locating the feeling there, he’s describing performance as a social transaction that starts before the first pitch. The fans don’t merely witness the at-bat; they author its emotional weather.

There’s a subtle humility baked into the swagger. Ortiz doesn’t say his preparation, talent, or focus matters “more than anything.” He credits “people screaming and wishing you the best,” turning the usual athlete mythology (lone hero, ice in the veins) inside out. That’s also strategy: acknowledging the crowd flatters them, and in Boston especially, that’s not trivial. Fenway culture runs on reciprocity and intensity, with the player-fan bond often framed as a kind of civic relationship.

The subtext is pressure, too. “Screaming” isn’t gentle support; it’s a demand, a volume that can lift you or swallow you. Ortiz presents it as fuel because that’s the job: to metabolize noise into clarity. In a media era obsessed with mental toughness as solitary discipline, he offers a different model of focus - one built from borrowed electricity, not isolation.