When I Was A Younger Man

By: Mike Carter

When I was a much younger man, watching baseball was a different experience that it is now.

You might say, well sure, when you were younger, you didn’t understand it the same way that you do now as an older man. You might sit and compare Mike Trout to Ken Griffey, Jr.

But that’s not exactly what I am talking about here.

When I was a much younger man, the game was played by men in my age group. I’m 45 now and it finally happened this year. My dad used to tell me often, wait until there are no guys left that are your age. And in March 2019, it finally happened. There are no players left in MLB that are my age or older. Suddenly I felt a twinge of anxiety in my stomach. Holy crap, I thought. Dad was right about this one. It’s a blow.

Ichiro retired last week after a final bow in Japan with the Seattle Mariners. In exhibitions, he showed the still powerful arm while keeping a runner at second base.  He showed the dexterity when he jokingly caught a thrown ball behind his back. He almost beat out a grounder up the middle in his final at bat, but the speed isn’t the same. He’s 45. He left to a deserved standing ovation, the gray hair creeping up his temples as he saluted the fans with a wave of his cap. A rotund Junior greeted him in the dugout as he came off the field.

Bartolo Colon cannot find a job in the major leagues right now. His days as an effective starter ended a couple of years ago, but he was still eating innings (and clearly, many calories) and getting outs for moribund teams. He’s 45 too.

It’s not that Ichiro and Bartolo can’t do it anymore. It’s that they can’t do it often enough to be effective playing a kids’ game day in and day out. No one has room on the bench for the old guys. Teams need more bang for their buck on their benches and favor young talent with positional flexibility. I don’t blame them in today’s game.

Aging is hard. It’s tough on normal people but perhaps much more for professional athletes. People start to ask questions about the downside of a career when a player hits 35. When guys get close to 40, they are seen as old.

The list of players over 45 that were still effective is very short: you can throw Julio Franco at me, or Nolan Ryan. Jamie Moyer. Going farther back, Hoyt Wilhelm and Phil Niekro. Add in Tommy John. The fact is, the spirit and mind might still be able, but the body has long ceased being able to move that way or recover like it did when you were younger.

I am no major leaguer, but at 45, I can tell you a few things about the body. It’s more the day after that things betray me. Sure, I can play catch with my son, but we have to stand closer than what he likes; sure, I can get down into the old catcher’s crouch when he pretends to pitch with a 3-2 count in Game Seven. And then he sees me struggle to get back up, and he laughs, and says, “you’re old, Dad.” Yes I am, Jack. But I was once young and far from magnificent like the guys I list above, I could run and throw and catch all day. I used to put the catcher’s gear on in 90-degree heat and not bat an eye and get up and do it again the next day. And the day after. Now, while I sift through my medicine cabinet, looking for an effective painkiller, I wistfully think back on those glory days that didn’t bring me glory but, instead fun times, friendship, and lessons on how to be a good teammate and being selfless for the good of the team.

Here’s a funny thing to realize: my kids are 12 and 8. I have raised them, sadly, to be White Sox fans. After striking out on big free agents this year, the most excitement we can get is hoping and praying (if you can spare some prayers, please do) that the young talent symbolized by Yoan Moncada and Eloy Jimenez materializes into stardom. Both Moncada at 23 and Jimenez at 22 are closer in age to my kids than they are to my age. Even more depressing, I am clearly old enough to be their fathers. Aging is not for the faint of heart, my friends.

That being said, it is allegedly Spring in most parts of the country. Baseball is in full swing. Soon we will throw off these winter coats and get out there in the sun and watch a game in person, and maybe if we’re lucky, reminisce about our youth gone by that night in our dreams.