Stories

The Boston Globe

April 16, 2006

By Keith O'Brien
Globe Correspondent

It's a cold Sunday morning with a bitter wind blowing in from right field. Not like spring at all. But Christopher "Stocky" Stockbridge doesn't care. This is his time. Stockbridge, 33, can feel it in his bones, bones once broken and now healed.

He kicks the infield dirt, turns his chin into the wind, and studies his team of aging, would-be heroes. Baseball season has begun.

"Look at them," Stockbridge says, watching grown men field ground balls in fleece jackets and winter hats. "They're all enthused to be out there. No one's complaining."

Especially not Stockbridge. All his life, the 5-foot-11, 323-pound Dorchester native has been playing baseball and, since 1992, he has been managing a men's over-18 baseball team. The players are carpenters, security guards, and Frito-Lay sales representatives. They are in their 20s and 30s, well past whatever primes they had, and a few haven't tried to hit a curveball in years.

In short, the Red Sox they are not. Their opening day, scheduled for next Sunday, will not be covered by the media. Stockbridge's moves as player-manager will not be dissected ad nauseam on local sports radio, and it's safe to say that the majority of the fans here are wives, girl friends, and children, although not necessarily in that order. This is the Massachusetts Independent Baseball League, a Sunday-morning baseball league for men from Dorchester to Middleborough.

The glory days? They're long gone. But passion for the game isn't reserved for major league ballplayers. Try to take something away from a man or deny him it entirely, and he may want it more. That's Stockbridge, a self-described "fat guy" who nearly walked away from baseball after a long, hard winter, only to realize that he'd rather not live without it.

"I'm 33 years old, and I look forward to it every year, this part," he says. "You get really fired up to play. I'm not in the best of shape. If you looked at me, you'd see a couch potato. But I still like to get out there. I like to hit and run around like a little kid."

It's been this way for Stockbridge all his life. When his wife, Kristin, met him more than a decade ago, he not only played baseball, but also softball, street hockey, and ice hockey. "I used to go to all the games," she said. It was important to him; she understood that.

They married and had four children, and Stockbridge scaled back. For the most part in recent years, he has focused on baseball, building a team every spring in hope that they might have fun and maybe win a championship.

Last year was no different. In the spring, his team, the Dorchester Dodgers, took the field. But Stockbridge, a first baseman and designated hitter, didn't play for long. A scooter crash last May left him with four cracked ribs and a broken collar bone, sidelining him for the year.

The Dodgers split up at the end of the season. New management took over, and on Jan. 25 Stockbridge announced on the league website that he was retiring.

"I guess all things have to end someday," he wrote, thanking his friends and league commissioner Jason Connors for being like family to him over the years. "I'm really going to miss those long, hot Sundays," he concluded, "but in the end I think it's for the best." Then he signed off: Stocky, #72.

Connors couldn't believe it. He called Stockbridge in February and asked him to reconsider. "Stocky," he says, "is what we'd call one of the characters of the league." He's a 300-pound man not afraid of stealing second base. A guy who's willing to spend a little extra on uniforms out of his own pocket to make sure they're just right."

Friend and teammate Andrew McDonald says: "He's very loyal, almost to a fault. He'll lay it all on the line for people."

Perhaps that's why, in the end, Stockbridge couldn't walk away. When Connors called and asked him to stay, Stockbridge listened. He paired up with Mike Saya, a 27-year-old shortstop from Dorchester also looking to form a team, and a new squad was born: the Boston Braves, a collection of men sponsored by the Eire Pub in Dorchester.

Stockbridge isn't sure just yet about how good they will be. He likes their offense. He thinks they'll hit for power. But he also knows baseball is a funny game, that there is no predicting luck, that there will be mistakes and squandered opportunities, that no rally lasts forever.

"I know someday I'll have to retire to the graveyard, also known as softball," Stockbridge says.

But for now, he's healed and happy, ready to play baseball, and sure of one thing: The new uniforms are going to look great.

Got a subject to suggest for Heart of the City? E-mail Keith O'Brien at kobrien@globe.com.