Immaculata University has asked Jamie to put aside his dreams of being the world’s first 64-year-old starting pitcher for one evening and come tell their graduating class of aught-13 how the future is powered by their dreams or whatever.

As far as ceremonial speakers, Jamie can’t get much more exemplary.  He’s faced incredible odds – the same as everyone else competing at his level – and blasted through the barriers of aging like a 57 mph heater.  He’s living proof that if you stay alive long enough, you can win a World Series ring.

He’s going to get an honorary degree for his appearance, meaning once again, Jamie Moyer will get points for being out there.

So let us celebrate the fact that, with Roy Oswalt re-entering the fray, the Phillies pitching staff seems to give birth to the most resilient hurlers in the game.  Something about Rich Dubee’s icy stares must conjure longevity in the blood.  Effectiveness, not so much.

Here’s a video of a 2012 CBS Sports interview in which the reporter asks Jamie like a middle school recess monitor, “Anybody been teasing you?”

“First couple days,” Jamie replies meekly.  ”I’m sure I’ll get some more.”

Jamie’s is the most known-about age in professional sports.  It’s 50.  He’s old for a baseball player.  That’s why it is assumed he is not one anymore.  Recently, the Mariners attempted to waft Jamie into retirement by having him to a distinctly retired-person thing: throw out the first pitch at a game.

It must have been awkward when he showed up in a full Mariners uniform, not really concerned that the paper work hadn’t made it over to his agent’s office yet, just really excited to have another shot to play in a real game.  Someone may have had to look a 50-year-old man in high socks in the face and tell him he wasn’t going to play today.

Regardless, Jamie was all smiles, went out there, and hucked a 23 mph heater to Dan Wilson.  Then he did the most ‘Jamie Moyer’ thing ever and claimed he hadn’t given up on playing professional baseball.

“I haven’t closed that door yet.  I don’t know when I would make a decision. I really haven’t put a lot of thought into it. I’m enjoying my time at home at this point.”

–Jamie Moyer

Jamie sounds happy without baseball; citing his new puppy, children, and bountiful lettuce garden as reasons to stay out of the game. Maybe he’s just a guy who doesn’t like to be told what he can’t do.  Coyly leaving the option open to return from informal retirement is a healthier way to deal with such instincts then habitual self-flagellation.

Could the Phillies use him?  No.  Unlike Roy Oswalt, it is not even worth considering (neither is a good idea).  If Ruben Amaro were to seriously send Jamie Moyer a serious offer to start a serious, actual, serious baseball game in a Phillies uniform, then he would be doing nothing more than confirming that the season was a joke and even upper management considered it a demented sideshow bent solely on draining whatever money and patience people have left.

No, it’s better as Phillies fans to know that he’s doing well and if he does come back, we’ll get to shake our heads from over here and go, “Oh, Jamie,” then return to making good use of the nearest chemical dependency as Roy Halladay implodes.

However, the Phillies’ promotionally dominant Triple-A affiliate, the Lehigh Valley Ironpigs, celebrated this week the parts of Jamie Moyer’s life that happened before he became the oldest player to ever drive in a run.

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