Eric Davis

Not being re-signed in Baltimore was probably the lowest point, mentally, of my career. That city was the only place where I wanted to be at the time, based on everything that had transpired.

The last two times I went to spring training, I had to win a job, and if I didn't get off to a blazing start, I'm on the bench. Now, I've proven myself, so it's not essential that I get off to a real good start.

My only goal is to play 162 games and help this team win. If I can do that, everything will take care of itself.

Most of the places I've been, I've been a main piece of the puzzle.

When you get back on the field and do things, any doubts you've developed leave. The more consistent you become, the fewer doubts you have.

Nothing I did contributed to me having cancer, so I can't sit back and say, 'Oh why me.' Why not me? Why does tragedy always have to hit someone else?

I'm no different than others with cancer. I just happen to play professional baseball. I'm part of those statistics that cancer has touched as well.

For me to become the highest paid player in the franchise, it was something I didn't anticipate. But I'm glad. I like playing for Cincinnati.

I was able to get operated on four days after I was diagnosed. It was just a matter of getting this baseball-sized tumor out of me. I reflect now on how lucky I was to be in the situation where I could get the best possible help and treatment.

People saw me as being heroic, but I was no more heroic than I was with other injuries I had, like the lacerated kidney I suffered during the 1990 World Series. It's just that people haven't known anyone with a lacerated kidney, but everyone can relate to someone with cancer.

I'm being compared to the impossible. I never saw Mays, Aaron or Clemente play. What about the people I face every day? Tim Raines is the best? Mattingly is the best? Why not compare me to my peers?

If you're feeling pressure, then you shouldn't be here.