Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Max Patkin, the "Clown Prince of Baseball" whose funny faces, pratfalls and one-liners entertained fans for more than 50 years, has died. He was 79.
Max Patkin, the "Clown Prince of Baseball" whose funny faces, pratfalls and one-liners entertained fans for more than 50 years, has died. He was 79.
Patkin, who had a history of heart problems, died of a heart aneurysm Saturday at Paoli Memorial Hospital, family members said. He had been hospitalized since rupturing an aorta one week before his death, his son-in-law Roger Tietsworth said.
For five decades, Patkin was an integral part of the minor leagues as a slapstick-style entertainer who would do nearly anything for a laugh from fans and players. He mugged his way through more than 4,000 minor-league games, becoming so well-known that he played himself in "Bull Durham," a 1988 movie staring Kevin Costner as an aging minor league player.
Patkin had aspirations of playing in the minor leagues, and played briefly for the Wisconsin Rapids. He became a clown to stay close to the sport he loved.
"My whole life was built around baseball," he said. "I'd sit at dinner with my baseball hat on. I never took it off until I went to bed, then I'd put it under my pillow with my glove."
Dressed in a baggy uniform with a question mark on the back, Patkin would contort his face into rubbery shapes, flash signs, mimic the first baseman, and even "coach" for the home team. Then he would rush off to the next town, making every appearance a ritual.
"I gave my whole heart, my whole body and soul to baseball," he said. "I loved being Max Patkin, the Clown Prince of Baseball."
Patkin retired in 1996 and moved in with his daughter, Joy, and son-in-law in Exton. He is survived by his daughter and a sister, Ruth Cohen of Pompano Beach, Florida.
Funeral services have not yet been finalized.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments