Senior softball players (gasp) don’t let age (wheeze) slow them

They used to call Luke Appling, who played shortstop for the Chicago White Sox from 1930 until 1950, "Old Aches and Pains" for the way he played hurt. Most of his injuries were minor. Some were even real.

On Thursday, the left fielder for Center for Sight out of Venice, Fla., said he recently had cataracts removed and underwent Lasik surgery. Now he's seeing the ball better.

The right fielder told me he was from "Cincinnat-uh" where he owned a tool and die business. Now he also owns a severe case of COPD - chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Which makes it difficult to breathe. Which makes it difficult to leg out infield singles.

The left fielder's name is Hugh Brotherton. He tucks a red bandana under his cap to keep the sun off his neck. Brotherton is 80 years old.

The right fielder's name is Fred Glaser. He has a salt-and-pepper beard that is 95 percent salt. Glaser is 79. He's considered a bit of a rookie on the masters softball circuit. They let you play in the 80-over division when you are 78, mostly because there aren't enough 80-year-old right fielders to go around.

Glaser told me doctors also removed 18 inches from his colon.

I told him Stephen Strasburg couldn't play in this league. He's not tough enough.

In the bottom of the first inning, Fred Glaser legged out an infield single and then huffed and puffed - mostly huffed - around the bases to score a run in the United States Senior Softball Association's World Masters championship game at Big League Dreams at Freedom Park.

"I can inhale, I just can't exhale," he gasped. Good huff, no puff.

Glaser had scored from second base on a throwing error, something you'll never see Jim Thome do. A couple of batters later, after Julio Franco had popped out, Glaser was breathing normally again.

"If you don't play hurt today, you might not get to play at all tomorrow," he said.

The next Center for Sight batter lined one in the gap between the outfielders. Uh-oh. This one had triple written all over it. Or maybe just a long single.

"Don't get hurt, Ray! Don't get hurt!" his teammates shouted as Ray made his way around the bases on creaky legs.

Ray didn't get hurt. He made it to third, standing up. Ray is 81. Standing on third base, he didn't look a day over 79.

Inside, he felt like he was 16. You could tell from his smile.

One of Ray's teammates saw me writing this down. He sidled over to where I was standing, down by the first-base line. He wanted to know if I was some kind of historian.

He said most of his teammates used to be pretty good ballplayers. Almost all of them served in Korea. One, Ed Schultz, served in World War II. Ed Schultz is 85.

Teddy Battistone, who plays first base, was a 90mm anti-aircraft instructor. But he was mostly a ballplayer. He played for the Fort Bliss Falcons on the army base near the west Texas town of El Paso. Battistone said Daryl Spencer, who spent 10 years in the big leagues, played for Fort Sill in Oklahoma. Fort Bliss beat Fort Sill, 13-8. Must have been '51, Battistone says. Seems like yesterday.

Battistone is 80 now. He still can hit. He still can field his position. After the war, he had been a sales manager for the Ford Motor Company, and then they transferred him to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, before the sheikhs started building those high-rises made of steel and glass. He liked Dubai much better before the high-rises. It was sort of like Jupiter, Fla., where he lives now. Only without the humidity.

In the bottom of the fourth, Battistone stayed down on a ball that took a wicked hop. He thought about going home with it. Instead, he took the sure out at first. It's always wise to take the sure out in the 80-over division in Masters softball. But when he came off the field, the old first sacker was upset with himself. He felt his moment of indecision had cost his team a run.

Once a ballplayer, always a ballplayer, I thought.

Center for Sight would go on to beat their old rivals - and, yes, I do mean that literally - the Arizona Prospectors, 22-20. It was Center for Sight's 52nd national title in 12 years, manager Jack Hudson said. Teddy Battistone's moment of indecision had not cost his team the game. There would be no "if" game, and perhaps when you are 80 and play in the outfield and the sun is beating down, that's a good thing.

But some of the old ballplayers looked disappointed there would be no "if" game. Some of them wanted to keep on playing. Some of them wanted to hit a triple like Ray, and stand on third base, and feel like they were 16 again.

I said goodbye to Fred Glaser and Teddy Battistone, shook their hands, told them I'd see them next year. Fred asked if he could get that in writing.

The first-base dugout, now empty, bore the aroma of sore arms and pulled hamstrings and analgesic balm.

It was different out on the field, where the old ballplayers were celebrating and posing for photos with the championship trophy. Out there between the lines, you still could smell the peanuts and the Cracker Jack.

Las Vegas Review-Journal sports columnist Ron Kantowski can be reached at rkantowski@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0325. Follow him on Twitter: @ronkantowski