The Phillies’ very own ageless wonder, 46-year-old pitcher Jamie Moyer, dizzies aggressive young batters with his craftily brilliant 82-mph “fast” ball and devotes the rest of his life—with his wife Karen—to helping grieving youth and bringing up their seven children. Not only is Moyer the finest player to come out of St. Joe’s baseball program, but he just might be the best guy in Philadelphia sports.

Jamie Moyer is the elder statesman of the Phillies (“Grandpa” to the likes of Jimmy Rollins), and, in fact, at 46 years old, the oldest active player in all of major league sports. He’s a mentor for fellow players, a 23-year major league veteran pitching 82-mph beach balls that make hard-charging young batters throw their helmets in frustration. He’s an icon of maturity, longevity and tenacity in an industry that tends to worship youth and flashiness. He’s a role model, the serious-minded head of a $15 million charitable foundation focusing on distressed children. And he’s a real-live grown-up working every kid’s dream job, with one of the larger families in the league including his wife Karen seven children—the youngest is a daughter recently adopted from Guatemala—not to mention what is very possibly the finest wine cellar in baseball, holding 4,000 bottles at his home in Bradenton, Fla.
Elder statesman, mentor, icon, role model, grown-up.

Yet, somehow, the most memorable Jamie Moyer moment of the Phillies’ World Series last fall—in Game 3, after a rain-soaked sixth inning in which Moyer narrowly avoided giving up a home run by a combination of good fortune and wind sheer—came as he stuck out his tongue while heading for the dugout. In the biggest game of his career, Moyer looked like little more than a big kid.

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And why not? Moyer has spent the past few years fulfilling just about every one of his childhood fantasies. After all, he grew up in Souderton, a loyal Phillies fan who skipped school in 1980 to attend the Phils’ only previous World Series parade. “It’s easy growing up in Philly to learn how to be a good, loyal sports fan. I loved the Phillies. I loved going to the games. Coming back to Philly brings my career full circle. Winning a World Series in Philadelphia was a dream come true.”

A hometown hero in the truest sense, Moyer pulled himself up by his cleat-straps, attending night school at St. Joseph’s University and hoping to make it onto the baseball team. (He ended up the only St. Joe’s player ever to have his number retired). And even his pro career was bookended by the Phillies: his first major league game and his first win, in 1986 with the Chicago Cubs, was a face-off against Philadelphia. And he’ll finish out his career back home, turning 49 just after his two-year, $13 million contract ends next December.

Yet Moyer’s life story has been far from a fairytale. It’s been a story of dedication, smarts, wiles. “Growing up in Montgomery County with my parents and schooling I learned to work hard,” Moyer says.

So it’s no surprise that, even at his age, almost unthinkably old for a guy who makes his living tossing a ball 60 feet, he’s among the best-conditioned players on the Phillies. No one plays in the major leagues for as long as Moyer does without being in impeccable shape, so much so that the typically heavy-set first baseman Ryan Howard got tips from him before the off-season on how to stay in shape. (The slugging former MVP dropped 20 pounds.)

”I’ve learned so much about more about my body as I’ve gotten older,” Moyer says. “It’s important to not go all out during every workout. My body recovers more sometimes when I work out less. It’s about working out smarter, not harder… but I have to keep up with it. If I let down just a little bit in my training, maybe my skill isn’t as sharp, maybe I don’t make the pitches I need to make. It’s a daily challenge.”

You don’t last three decades in baseball without being a smart, without making good decisions, without learning a lot about the sport. And Moyer has become one of the most knowledgeable players in the game. He relishes his position as the Phillies’ wise veteran pitcher, whether it’s mentoring fellow lefthander Cole Hamels or sitting in the dugout talking with reporters before a game. Jamie Moyer isn’t old. He’s mature.

A pitcher would have to be mature to survive for as long as Jamie Moyer has with his stuff. Jamie Moyer’s fastball averaged 82.5 miles per hour last year, incredibly slow for a pitcher, even for a lefthanded one. Most pitchers throw in the 90s; pitchers who win 16 games, as Moyer did last year, throw in the mid to high 90s. If Jamie Moyer had the control of an average pitcher, he wouldn’t have lasted to 1989, let alone 2009—his pitches would have been hit out of the park by even the weakest hitters. But Moyer has been blessed with incredible precision. His deceptively brilliant change-ups still fool even practiced batters. And his slow-moving fastball, which needs to hit the corners to be effective, has continued to do so. It’s a playing style that sent Moyer bouncing around the major and minor leagues from 1984 to 1996, before landing him in Seattle for 11 seasons with the Mariners. And it’s a strategy that has made him a valuable starter in Philadelphia since he was traded here in 2006. Last season, Moyer’s strategy was effective to the tune of a 16-7 record and a 3.71 ERA. That statistic, normalized for factors like park effects and opposition faced, was his best mark since 2003. Just when it looked like Jamie Moyer was slowing down, he went out and had his best season in six years.

“I’ve learned a lot during my time in the game,” Moyer says. “That’s what baseball has been: A lot of life lessons.”

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If any one word describes Moyer, it might be humility. Asked why he decided not to retire after the crowning achievement of last year’s championship season, Moyer says simply, “I think I can still pitch.”

Perhaps that’s because, as impressive as his two decades in the major leagues have been, Moyer’s best work has been done off the field through The Moyer Foundation. Plenty of athletes do charitable work, plenty have foundations. But Moyer’s is not a tax write-off or publicity stunt—it’s a highly organized, highly ambitious effort on the part of Moyer and his wife Karen to effect real change in the lives of thousands of children.
“As a professional baseball player,” Moyer says, “you get asked to do lots of things, like visit a kid in a hospital, do a Make-A-Wish at the ball park. And being a father of seven, I know my blessings and find it very gratifying bringing smiles to kids’ faces when I can.”

And he’s more than just talk. In 1988, the Moyers met Erin Metcalf, a teenage cancer patient, at a Make-A-Wish Foundation dinner in Seattle. “She was just so special, always concerned with the lives of other patients and their siblings when she was hospitalized,” Karen Moyer says. “We were touched by her compassion.” Now, the Moyers’ Camp Erin, bereavement camps they have organized for children who have lost loved ones, has 28 locations in 18 states nationwide. They hope to open 50 more camps in all 30 major league baseball cities by 2012.

Karen, too, is the type who can’t resist a child in need. Devoutly religious, she takes each of her children on mission trips when they turn 16. And when she took their oldest son, Dillon, to Guatemala, they ended up adopting a two-year-old daughter, Yenifer, as well. Perhaps the ultimate baseball wife and the anti-baseball wife all wrapped in one, Karen is, like Moyer, way more about substance than image, and more about family than self. “It is our responsibility as parents to raise our children to be good social human beings.” And, she jokes, “I always say my job is a better example to the children than throwing a baseball.”

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That incident with the tongue aside, Jamie Moyer hadn’t gotten too emotional during the whole Phillies’ playoff run. As always, it seemed, he was playing the elder statesman.

But when the Phillies received their World Series rings in the final game of this season’s opening home series, Moyer was overcome with emotion. “This whole thing. … allows me to reflect on things, on my life in this game and how fortunate I’ve been,” Moyer said after the ceremony. “And all the sacrifices my parents have made, my wife and children. It’s very special. And this isn’t sadness. This is happiness. And I can do nothing but thank my family for their sacrifices and all the people I’ve played with in my career. Managers, coaches, pitching coaches, teammates. And most importantly, my teammates from last year. And our organization. And our coaches. Because without them I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today.”
Moyer was the first one to open the ring box the Phillies’ players received and was the first one to put his ring on. The Phillies’ elder statesman was just like he was during Game 3 of the World Series: a kid. Only this time, he was a kid on Christmas morning.

Story by Dan McQuade
Photos by Jared Castaldi