Nino Bongiovanni

There is always, at all times, an oldest ex-major league baseball player. The title is a bit like the king or queen of England -- it passes immediately upon the death of the incumbent. It's not a great distinction to hold, because no one ever keeps it for very long, but it's there, and someone fulfills the office. And then that man passes, and so does the title -- I haven't researched this, but it seems like there's a new Oldest Ex-Major Leaguer about three times every two years. The senior retiree is always a nonagenarian (at least), which is why the title moves frequently, and when he does pass on he gets a press release, and usually the new guy gets some press coverage as well.

The most recent was Billy Werber, who passed away on January 22, age 100. Werber also had a long profile last year when he became the oldest ex, thanks to his being the last teammate of Babe Ruth. Werber could tell plenty of Ruth stories, and even today that makes for good copy.

The oldest ex-major league player always gets a little media spotlight, even if it is for the dismal reason of dying. The not-quite-oldest ones leave us in much more obscure circumstances.

Anthony "Nino" Bongiovanni was, best I can determine, the fifth-oldest former major league baseball player when he passed away on January 6, 2009, age 97. I didn't learn about his death for nearly a month, and even then had to Google-dig to find a single obituary in the San Jose Mercury News, the local paper. Nino had lived in the south San Francisco Bay area for decades, if I recall.

Sure, I love baseball, but why this much involvement with an olde-tyme player who, while good, was not great, not more than a line or two in the long history of baseball lore?

I was working a job back in the late 1990s, and one co-worker, Pat, loved to talk baseball at times. It turned out he had played in college, and that's where he'd met his wife, Linda, who also worked elsewhere in the building. Linda was Nino's daughter. I was downright tickled, working alongside family of a former ballplayer. Pat and I each traveled a lot in those jobs, and one time both needed to go to San Jose. I asked if he could arrange a dinner out with Nino, he did, and we spent several hours at an Olive Garden eating spaghetti and talking baseball. Nino was well into his 80s then, but still plenty spry. He told stories about his days in the game, his one at-bat in the 1939 World Series, opinions on modern day baseball (he wasn't kind in his view of Barry Bonds). He showed me, and let me try on, his 1939 National League Champions ring, and told how he had gotten it years after the fact thanks to some coverage in Sports Illustrated. And, though he's not mentioned in it, I asked if he would autograph a copy of Ritter's The Glory Of Their Times -- it seemed an appropriate choice. The evening was a delight, one I remember fondly.

I would have loved to have met him again, but never did. One time left a brilliant memory.

My condolences to Linda, Pat, and their entire family, and my thanks to the memory of Nino, who played the great game, and was a fine dinner companion.

Nino Bongiovanni, Cincinnati Reds 1938-39.