By Biff Stroganoff, Sports Pictured Magazine
Week of Dec. 9, 2012

Felipe Lara is restless.  The longtime mainstay of the Palm Springs Codgers‘ pitching rotation wanders the grounds of his palatial estate outside of town overlooking the Mount San Jacinto State Wilderness, flexing his fingers.  “I’m not used to this, man,” he offers.  “Normally I would be training, working out, getting ready for next year’s season.  I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

His wife Fatima, holding the couple’s three-month-old son George, sits in a chair by the pool, a weary look on her face.  “You could look after your son for a few minutes, maybe,” she says

“Ehh!  Fine,” the erstwhile hurler says, taking the youngster into his arms.  The boy, the first male progeny of their union, immediately bursts into tears.  “Pah!” exclaims his father.  “Always crying.  We should have named him after that big baby of a general manager we have… errr, had.”

The elder Lara, age 38, has recently retired after 17 years laboring as a big league pitcher for the Codgers, first with their previous incarnation in the Federal League and then after their jump to today’s Planetary Extreme Baseball Alliance.  The native of Arica, Chile was noticed as a teen by a Palm Springs scout while he was playing in a tournament in Santiago and immediately signed to a contract.  He shot through the Palm Springs system, making his big league debut at the tender age of 20.

“Man, that was a crazy day,” Lara says with a laugh.  “We were playing the Newark Pepper in the second game of a doubleheader.  I was getting shelled, but they had used up a bunch of relievers in the first game, so I ended up pitching seven innings.”

From those humble beginnings sprang an illustrious professional career that featured two PEBA All-Star appearances, a no-hitter and a visit to the inaugural Planetary Extreme Championship.  A poll taken in 2007 placed Lara as the third-most feared pitcher by Sovereign League hitters.

But after the normally durable starter endured four months on the shelf with bone spurs in 2012, he knew it was time to go.  “I was going crazy, man, watching the team go to pieces without me there to lead them.  I know it’s like 98 percent for sure I would probably take them back to the playoffs next year, too, but as I get older, I have more chance to get hurt, you know?  I don’t want to be all crippled up the rest of my life… I want to be able to play with my kids.”  Just as he utters this statement, his five daughters (named Felipe Lara II through VI) come racing into the pool area, smiling and giggling.  “Slow down, Felipe… no running!” he admonishes them sternly, but there is a twinkle in his eye.

So what, then, does the future hold?  He has no need of money – in addition to his considerable salary from Palm Springs, he lent his name to the Felipe Lara Toaster Oven™, now beloved by housewives throughout Latin America; he earns a percentage of each one sold.  The baseball academy he established in his hometown of Arica now draws youths from all over Chile.  What is left?

Might the legendary Lara wit and charm lend itself to a second career in broadcasting?  “That could happen, man.  I already done some games for Chilean TV.  I hosted an episode of a game show, too.  Maybe I am the next Don Francisco!” he chuckles.

“Or I could get into coaching, man.  When I was with Palm Springs, the younger guys always were looking up to me for tips and pointers.  I was, like, their total role model,” he says, poking his index finger into his chest for emphasis.  “I would be great at that.”

He yawns, stretches.  “There’s a lot of options on there, man.  The world oyster is at my feet.

“That’s, like, 98 percent, for sure.”