Rounding Second, Heading for Home

This column originally appeared on Aug. 16, 2009

One of my favorite books to read and re-read is by a former Sports Illustrated writer, Leigh Montville, called “Ted Williams: The Biography of an American Hero.” Although the portrait that Montville paints of Williams as a great but flawed man is vivid and electrifying for a baseball fan such as I, there are an number of smaller descriptions of the people in Williams’ life that Montville uses to fill in the background and brighten the color that make the book that much more enjoyable.

People like Johnny Orlando, the clubhouse man for the Boston Red Sox when Williams was a rookie and not yet the famous “Teddy Ballgame, “and who gave Williams $2.50 when The Kid was sent down to the minors his first year. Or Dave “The Colonel” Egan, the Boston sportswriter who vilified Williams in print worse than anything ever said or written about Donovan McNabb. Or Maurice “Mickey” McDermott, the young pitcher who Williams took a shine to, but whose life off the field was one loud foul after another, including the time he and Frankie Fontaine, of the old Jackie Gleason Show, went drinking and McDermott left some lobsters in his car. For three days. “Smells so bad I have to sell it,” remembered the late McDermott.

And most striking of all, for me, Joe Villarino, who was interviewed by Montville in San Diego, where he and Williams grew up together in the 1920s and 1930s. Villarino loved to play baseball with Williams as a kid, but knew he was no match for Ted’s talent and never made it above Class D ball in Kilgore, Texas. But what he accomplished that Williams never would was an act of longevity. As Montville pointed out to my delight, Villarino played some form of ball for all of his life; Williams, except for some old timers’ games in the 1980s, hung them up when he hit his last home run in 1960. At the time the two spoke about Williams’ life s a young man, Villarino was holding down first base for a team in the LaMesa, Calif., Senior Slow-Pitch Softball League. He was 85.

“We have guys who drop dead playing,” Villarino told Montville. “There was a guy just last year. He was on second base and someone hit a ball into the outfield, and he tried to get from second to third. Never made it.”

I have not heard of that happening locally, but I have discovered that there are a bunch of people like Villarino who have apparently not been told that you are too past it to quit playing ball after you get your AARP application. They belong to a league called the Chester County Senior Modified Softball League, and have games from April to August in field in Coatesville, Downingtown and West Chester. In fact, they just finished their season on Aug. 10, when Proudfoot Roofing defeated Fence Sense for the championship, the 14^th straight time Proudfoot has won the league title. (Break up the Roofers!)

I bring this up because I recently came across a story written 15 years ago about one of the league’s players who exemplifies something about longevity the way Ted Williams’ friend Joe Villarino did. His name is Ben Catalano and he spent the season managing and playing for the Coffee Cup squad in the senior league. He was 73 when the article was written about him in 1994, which makes him, by my calculations, 88 years old and a marvel of life. Someone told me he’s still the oldest player in the league.

The story profiled not only Catalano but the league itself, which had then only recently come into existence. Catalano was known then as a feisty catcher who on occasion would get tossed from games for arguing a call. Must be a leftover from his boyhood in Brookyln, where he played ball and umpired in leagues that included players like Phil Rizzuto of the Yankees.

“I like to catch because you’re involved in almost every play,” Catalano told the writer. “Ever year, the league gets a little more competitive.”

The Coffee Cup squad didn’t make any headlines this year, going 7-11 and finishing in the middle of the pack. And Ben Catalano has been feeling a bit under the weather lately, although there is hope that he’ll be able to watch the World Series from home again this year. But playing ball at 88? That’s a hell of a thing.

I like to think about people playing ball into their retirement years because it allows me to imagine that life will go one as long as you want it to. I like to think about people playing ball when they are close to 90 because it proves that the best things in life are timeless. I like to think about playing baseball when you’re old because if you had to choose a place to die, wouldn’t it be wonderful to close your eyes one last time when you’re running between second and third?