FORT MYERS, Fla. — The 82-year-old eyes have seen it all. They have seen both DiMaggios and Willie Mays, Ted Williams and Carl Yastrzemski. They have seen hundreds of unknown rookies, busting their tails to appear in the big show. They have seen too many dusty minor league fields from Cuba to Venezuela, Louisville to Sayreville, N.J.

Under a fierce Florida sun, the eyes sweep the six fields at the Boston Red Sox minor league complex, just 2.3 miles down Edison Avenue at City of Palms Park where the major leaguers play. The eyes belong to Eddie Popowski, who knows just how far those 2.3 miles really are between the minor and major leagues.

Celebrating his 60th spring training this year, Popowski started playing ball with the legendary House of David team in the 1930s. After a botched minor league double play left him with a shattered knee, he never made it to the big leagues. Instead, he dedicated his life to finding the teenagers with talent enough to make it to the big time, teaching them the game he loves.

He has no intention of quitting now.

The only year Popowski didn’t play baseball was 1942, when he was in the service. His best year as a player was when he hit .321 as player-manager at Roanoke, Va. After 21 seasons as a minor league manager, he got to Fenway Park as third base coach in 1967 in the Impossible Dream season when the Red Sox won the pennant.

Popowski used to show off for Red Sox fans when a foul ball was hit to the third-base coaching box. He whirl his right arm downward and throw the ball over his left shoulder to the pitcher or umpire.

He remained as coach through 1974 when he became a special assignment coach. He rejoined the major league staff in 1976 under Manager Don Zimmer.

His title today is special instructor and he has remained popular among Red Sox fans.

Popowski started playing second base at age 18 for the Holy Trinity church team in Sayreville, N.J., in 1932. His talent won him a spot on the House of David baseball team composed of Orthodox Jews and assorted minor leaguers who played in full beards. In order to keep playing and earn his $125 a month, Popowski struggled manfully to stretch his peach fuzz into something close to a beard. “I never had much luck, though,” he said.

“We played two games a day, four games on the Fourth of July, 256 games a year. There was never any time for batting practice or to warm up. You just played.” The New Jersey teenager agreed to drive the House of David bus to the ball parks around New Jersey and New York for another $50 a month.

The House of David team played the old St. Louis Browns in Fort Lauderdale in 1935, his first spring training. He was offered a spot in Rocky Mount, N.C., with the Red Sox in 1936, but chose to go back to the House of David.

“The man was good enough to give me a job. I didn’t want to leave,” he said.

Popowski eventually accepted a Red Sox offer in 1937 and went to the Eastern League in Hazleton, Pa., for a big raise to $275 a month.

His House of David career paid him an average $1.46 per game. The latest Red Sox slugger, Kevin Mitchell, asked for $10,000 per at bat, finally settling for $3,000 per at bat, plus incentives. But Popowski would not criticize today’s multi-million dollar players.

“I wish them well. I don’t begrudge them for what they are getting. Hey, I have a grandson in New Jersey who is a junior in high school. They are already after him for college ball. It was a different time. We had to go to work at the end of the season. We had families to support,” Popowski said.

The veteran coach admitted quietly that he would have played for nothing.

The game has changed, Popowski said.

“At spring training today, these players are in much better shape. They have all the gadgets, the bicycles. They work at it year round,” he said.

Rookies get a lot more playing time in spring training compared to the days when the club was set at every position for decades. Every schoolboy knew every position by heart in an era when a player stayed with a team for an entire career. Today, in an era of expansion and free agency, the rosters change overnight.

Like many teams, the Red Sox have a special coordinator for Spanish speaking ballplayers.

“We used to have 4-5. Now we have dozens. These kids are coming up better and better. They play all year, night and day, while American kids are kicking a soccer ball,” Popowski said.

But the mechanics of the game and its chess-like intricacies remain the same. Now Popowski’s job is to pass a lifetime of baseball lore along to the next generation and the next.

Ed Kenney, director of player development, said Popowski brings stability to the team in an era when a 10-year career is considered unusual.

“It says it all that Pop has been here for 60 years,” said Kenney, whose father worked 47 years for the Sox. “He brings just a wealth of baseball knowledge. It is amazing what young players and managers can learn from him.

“Staying that long with one team is a thing of the past. He is really the last of a dying breed. He can talk to the young players about players in the ’40s, ’50s and ’60s. There doesn’t seem to be any generation gap. The game is the same it always has been. The basics are the same. He has been around and seen it all. Some of these players are like children. They push you to see what they can get away with,” Kenney said.

There are a million Popowski stories around spring training. Popowski’s pal, Charlie Almeida of Rhode Island, said his is the Walt Dropo one. It seems that Dropo, a home run-hitting first baseman of the ’50s, had a heavy date and was headed out the door after hours. The only witness was a man sitting behind a newspaper. Almeida said the newspaper never moved as Popowski told Dropo, “You walk out that door, you never come back.” Dropo stopped, thought about it and then went back to his room.

Kenney said his favorite is the signed baseball one. When his team started staying out a little too late, Popowski gave the night shift elevator operator a baseball. He said he wanted signatures of all the ballplayers who came in after bed check. The players thought they were doing a fan a favor, but the next morning, Popowski had written proof against those who violated bed check.

One of Popowski’s favorite stories happened 25 years ago, when the Red Sox held spring training in Winter Haven. A pale tourist walked up to the veteran coach and said. “I thought you were dead. You look good, though.”

Born the year after Fenway Park was built, Popowski admits — reluctantly — that the time has come for a new park.

“They will have to build another one to draw more people to pay those salaries. But I hope they don’t tear it down as long as I live. Maybe a college or someone will take it over. It is still the best place to watch a ball game.”

Popowski said the strike hurt baseball, but it is coming back.

“The Red Sox were not hurt too badly by the strike because it is the best franchise in baseball with the best fans. The fathers visit their sons in college and end up going to Fenway. They all love it.

“The Red Sox are all I know. They ask me how long I was married. I say my wife was married 40 years, but I was only married for 20 because I was never home.”

His wife died five years ago after doing “a great job raising five kids while I was away,” he said.

Even at 82, Popowski has no plans to quit. “I wouldn’t change a thing, even if I could. Every day I wake up is a bonus.”