"I've been in eleven no-hitters you know"
About this Quote
Name-dropping usually tries to inflate a legacy; this one does something sneakier. When Bert Campaneris says, "I've been in eleven no-hitters you know", he’s not just flexing an absurd baseball stat. He’s reminding you that a no-hitter is never a solo act, even when the pitcher gets the headline. The line carries the casual cadence of clubhouse talk, the little "you know" tacked on like a wink and a shoulder nudge: don’t mistake my role for passive scenery.
The intent is half brag, half correction. Campaneris, a slick-fielding shortstop in the A’s dynasty years, is staking a claim to the hidden labor that makes baseball mythology possible. No-hitters are marketed as individual transcendence, but they’re built from ordinary, ruthless competence: positioning, range, clean hands, smart throws, turning hard contact into routine outs. Being "in" eleven is a way of saying, I lived inside the machinery of greatness. I helped it happen.
The subtext also hints at baseball’s hierarchy of credit. Middle infielders and speed guys rarely get the romantic narrative reserved for aces and sluggers; their excellence is measured in absence (no errors, no hits, no extra bases). Campaneris flips that invisibility into an accomplishment: if you keep showing up in historic games, maybe the "luck" isn’t luck. It’s a career built on reliability so extreme it becomes part of the sport’s rarest moments.
The intent is half brag, half correction. Campaneris, a slick-fielding shortstop in the A’s dynasty years, is staking a claim to the hidden labor that makes baseball mythology possible. No-hitters are marketed as individual transcendence, but they’re built from ordinary, ruthless competence: positioning, range, clean hands, smart throws, turning hard contact into routine outs. Being "in" eleven is a way of saying, I lived inside the machinery of greatness. I helped it happen.
The subtext also hints at baseball’s hierarchy of credit. Middle infielders and speed guys rarely get the romantic narrative reserved for aces and sluggers; their excellence is measured in absence (no errors, no hits, no extra bases). Campaneris flips that invisibility into an accomplishment: if you keep showing up in historic games, maybe the "luck" isn’t luck. It’s a career built on reliability so extreme it becomes part of the sport’s rarest moments.
Quote Details
| Topic | Sports |
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