Softball league in Penn Township won't let age get upper hand
Henry Dolecki has a simple philosophy about softball these days.
"I'll tell you what ... I can strike out three times, make three or four errors, and if I leave this place healthy, it's a win," he said after pulling a hamstring while running out a hit to left field.
Although it's his first season, at age 63 the retired Penn-Trafford physical education teacher can't reasonably be labeled a "rookie."
Especially not in a league with a stalwart second baseman, Jim Flanigan of Liberty Borough, who was born in 1927 — the year the New York Yankees' powerful offense earned the nickname "Murderer's Row."
But in the Big Kids Softball League, nobody who steps onto the field at the Penn Township Municipal Complex is younger than 55.
About 30 men routinely show up for the Monday and Friday morning pick-up games. They wear teal, jersey-style T-shirts with "Old Men Rule" written across their chests.
They come from as far as Unity, White Oak and McKeesport for a two- or three-hour escape — and an excuse to ignore lingering ailments.
"We stop for tea and oxygen at Johnny's Wife's Place ( a local restaurant) afterward," says another newcomer, Joe Budd, 59, of White Oak.
Dugout banter in the 7-year-old league involves not only cheers for a hard-hit ball into the gap or a fine catch in the outfield, but players' tales about dealing with health issues.
League President Ed Hofstetter, 67, of Unity has needed a steroid shot in his hip to stay limber and continue playing, despite the objections of his wife.
"Soon as I heard arthritis of the hip, she said, 'That's it. You're done,'" Hofstetter said. "I said, 'I don't think so.'"
Art Patterson, an insurance agent from Unity, arrives with goggles atop his head and a No. 16 pendant dangling from a necklace as a reminder of his participation in a past slow-pitch softball league. At 66, the left-handed batter attends as many outings as he can, although he's undergoing chemotherapy for cancer.
Patterson said the chemo treatments cause intense aches in his joints.
"The doctors aren't real excited for me even being here," Patterson said. "I'll take my chances."
Tom Ritz, who needs a pinch runner if he gets a hit, said the camaraderie of the league is good for Patterson. During a recent game, the 74-year-old retired gas-company serviceman split fielding duties with Patterson, alternating innings at first base.
"It gives him something to look forward to," said Ritz, of Level Green.
Players draw inspiration from league members like Dave Russell, 69, who is recovering after having a heart valve replaced. The Salem man recently served as umpire for one game and intends to return to play next season.
Fliers advertising the league to solicit more players describe games as a "great mix between comedy and good ball-playing."
League Vice President John Cooney tries to divide the talent evenly among two teams that might use as many as five infielders and five outfielders at a time to limit the strain on players' arms and legs.
Older players or hitters who have problems with their legs have the option of "taking the line," meaning they only have to run about half-way to first base to earn a single.
Modifications include the prohibition of metal cleats and sliding — for safety reasons.
Although many of the players had been away from a ballfield for years before joining the league, Ted Yagle said he told his wife after his first game three years ago that he was impressed by the quality of games.
"I went home and I said, 'These are men. They still rip the ball, you know?'" said Yagle, 65, of Harrison City.
And the bonds created by the league aren't limited to the diamond. In the off season, players move inside to play in basketball and volleyball leagues.
But Hofstetter said he doesn't expect the league to expand to night games.
"Most of these guys go to bed early," he joked.
