TOTS -- The Early Years Revisted

TOTS Senior Baseball Network (TSBN)

60-and-over baseball

The 45th year of the Tucson Old Timers (TOTS) baseball club is coming to a close. Six weeks are left in yet another season at Udall Park, the home field where the band of 60-and-over ball players gather  three days a week to play America's favorite pastime.

So much has been written about the TOTS this year in honor of their 45th season and I guess I'm the guilty party for most of the media coverage -- although we were honored this summer by former Tucson Citizen sports writer Steve Rivera, who put together a project which honored the current TOTS with individual posters, complete with a team photo, an individual shot and a summary, a glimpse if you will, into the life and times of each player.

Those poster proudly sit on the mantle in the homes of the TOTS, or the den of a respective family member, and undoubtedly, will be a point of conversation from time to time, after all, the TOTS are the oldest organized baseball team in the country, dating back to 1968 when founder Joe Gorman fielded his first TOTS' team.

Back in March, I wrote an article on Bookemdanosports which eventually caught the attention of Rivera and led to the project mentioned above. To refresh my readers' memory, I'll revisit the article and insert a copy of the post below. Then, I'll let you in on a little more to the story.


In 1968 a retired gentleman from New York City decided to spend his "golden years"  in the desert. Like so many other Easterners the gentleman found the climate in Tucson to his liking, but unlike many retirees, he couldn't sit around for hours in his patio each day and listen to the birds sing, nor was he about to resort to a friendly game of shuffleboard or a round of checkers every now and then.

No, Joe Gorman, who grew up playing America's favorite pastime in his New York neighborhood, wanted to continue to play the game of baseball --  even as a senior citizen. So, he organized the Tucson Old Timers (TOTS)...and that my friends was 45 years ago.

Gorman was confident, no, he was absolutely certain, that he could find some old-time ball players willing to meet three days a week at a city park and play the game of baseball. He had a vision that those old ball players, once they got wind of such an endeavor, would dust off their old leather gloves, grab their Louisville Slugger, kiss their wife on the cheek and head for the ball park.

Boy! Was he ever right.

For 45 years, the TOTS have assembled, first -- in the early years at Himmel Park, later on moving to Fort Lowell Park, before finding their home -- their current home, at Udall Park.

Gorman said, in an interview in mid-October of 1968, "Once a baseball player, always a baseball player."

The TOTS of the late-1960s and the early 1970s are gone now, but I envision them sitting outside the pearly gates every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, looking down on Udall Park and watching...and "jabbering" among themselves about the goings-on below with the latest flock of TOTS.

They laugh and even joke with their teammates in Heaven, at the speed of a current TOT, who was, at that very moment on earth,  trying his best to beat out a slow roller to first base. The "heavenly TOTS" of yesteryear would clap in unison at the conclusion of the game below, pick up their own baseball gear and head for their own ball game, to the big stadium in the sky where the turnstiles clang daily as the "heavenly baseball fans" fill the bleachers and roar their approval at every pitch.

I'm a TOT for life. I was recently named the club's historian -- keeper of all the boxes of artifacts, if you will, photos...stories...trophies, you name it, I have them now. The TOTS' albums are like reading a novel with characters of the 1960s, 1970s, the 1980s and 90s. Endless material on a group of men who love baseball.

I ran across the story of Bob Wolken. Bob was born in 1919 and passed away the winter of 1997. Just weeks before his death, he made sure his daughter, Marie, paid a full year of dues to the TOTS, even though he had been on the disabled list for more than a year.

Wolken, who played 15 years for the TOTS, was laid to rest in his TOTS' jacket and full pin-stripe uniform. "Take me out to the ball game" was the music selected for the organist to play. And, it was no coincidence that Bob's funeral service was held on a non-game day.

And then there's the story of Lee Moser, who was born during the fall of 1930. Moser joined the TOTS in 1992 and on March 20, 1995, while playing catcher for the TOTS, was critically injured on a collision with the runner at the plate.

Due to internal injuries, Lee was not expected to live, but recovered, and with the help of his family, battled back and not only lived but returned to the ball field -- back in full swing as a TOT.

Due to Moser's collision at home plate, the TOTS changed their bylaws to allow for an extra plate to be placed 10 feet from home plate. The runner must head for the offset target, while the catcher must receive the throw at home. If the catcher has possession of the ball, before the runner reaches the secondary plate, he is out.

Since then, no serious injury has occurred at home plate in a TOTS' game. Not saying there hasn't been injuries on the field of play over the years, because there certainly has -- just like in the big leagues.

The above stories of old-time baseball players like Joe Gorman, Bob Wolken and Lee Moser are just a few samplings I have run across as I slowly turn the pages of the TOTS' archives.

In 2018, the organization will celebrate 50 years and the "rookies" (those current TOT players who are 60 years of age) will have five years under their belt and will be veterans on the ball club. Chances are a new batch of "young" players, referred to by the club members as "the newbies" will filter in and join in the fun.

A never ending stream of baseball players, who can't, and won't, give up the game.

The founder of the TOTS had a vision and it certainly became a reality. A reality which will continue for years to come.

Photo above is Lee Moser, alive and kicking and setting in the bleachers at a recent TOTS game.

And now for the rest of the story.

I was enjoying a cup of coffee and some banana cream pie with my 86-year-old mother yesterday at a little cafe on Grant Road called ROBERTS (the restaurant has been around for a long time, maybe not as long as the TOTS, but close).

Guess who walks in? Mr. Lee Moser, himself, accompanied by his son. Moser walked up to our table and said, I know you, you play for the TOTS. You are one of the young TOTS.

I said, "not anymore. There's 25 guys younger than me."

There you have it, I just met a TOTS' legend.

I then said to the older gentleman standing in front of us: "I know you, you are Mr. Moser. You are the reason we have that extra home plate."

With his son smiling from ear to ear, we all rehashed the event of 18 years ago when Moser collided with the runner at the plate and ended up in the hospital, clinging for his life.

What a story. Here we are in the year 2013, the 45th year of the TOTS, and Mr. Moser is as chipper as ever and alive and well…and able to speak, to recall fully and to remember what he meant to the TOTS' organization.

Thank you, Mr. Moser…and we'll see you at the ballpark.