Southeastern Connecticut has produced more than its share of Major League Baseball players, but they've been absent from local literature beyond news coverage of their on-field exploits.

One of the first to play can now claim to be the first with a book written about him.

When John Ellis signed with the New York Yankees out of New London High School in 1966, expectations for the slugging catcher soared. His 13-year career, though solid, didn't live up to those early predictions, but he has been more noteworthy for what he did once it was over.

"Baseball's Greatest Players: The Story of John Ellis and the Fight Against Cancer" isn't exactly a biography. It's more of a double highlight reel, touching on memorable moments from his time on the diamond and his lasting achievement off it.

Ellis, who survived cancer after retiring, went on to found what used to be called the Connecticut Sports Foundation, a charity that has raised nearly $9 million for cancer patients and research. Its annual fund-raising dinner has attracted a galaxy of baseball stars to the region.

Author James Herbert Smith devotes equal parts of the book to Ellis' playing days and to the many former stars who attended the dinners. Smith's long career as a Connecticut journalist included a stint as managing editor of The Day. He dedicated the book to The Day's former publisher Reid MacCluggage.

Ellis was born in New London but moved around in his youth because his father was in the Coast Guard. He found himself back home for the last two years of high school, playing football and baseball at NLHS and attracting the attention of pro teams in both sports. He recalled that the Boston Red Sox were willing to pay him more than whatever the Yankees offered, but the Bronx was where he wanted to play.

In 1969 he was called up from the minors to replace injured catcher Jake Gibbs. He might have had a shot at succeeding Gibbs if not for a fellow rookie named Thurman Munson, who went on to be one of the Yankees' all-time greats.

Still, Ellis hit an inside-the-park home run in his first game and showed plenty of power. Moved to first base to replace veteran Joe Pepitone, he had his best year with the team in 1970, hitting .248 with 29 RBIs and seven homers in 78 games. The Yankees' second-place finish that year was their high-water mark in an era when they weren't winners.

Ellis, who never became more than a part-time player in New York, asked to be traded, and after the 1972 season he was sent to the Cleveland Indians. When the American League adopted the designated hitter rule in 1973, he became the first DH in Indians history.

The book recounts this and other moments of Ellis' career through his recollections and newspaper stories.

One game that got plenty of headlines has gone down in baseball lore, and though the book notes Ellis' absence, he still played a role in bringing it about. In late May 1974, he threw a punch that sparked a brawl between the Indians and the Texas Rangers, then went down with an unrelated injury a few days later. Just after that, with tensions between the teams still high, they met again in Cleveland for what history remembers as "Ten Cent Beer Night" after that day's profoundly ill-advised promotion.

A parade of drunken fans ran onto the field in various stages of undress, while others pelted Rangers players with debris. The Rangers responded by charging the field armed with bats, leading the Indians to attack their own fans because they feared for the Rangers' safety. The fiasco ended in a forfeit. One gets the idea that if Ellis, known for a confrontational demeanor, had been present that night, he might have added a glorious chapter to his career.

Ellis' time in Cleveland was cut short by his 1975 clash with future Hall of Famer Frank Robinson, whom the Indians had just hired as baseball's first Black manager. Robinson, a disciplinarian, had a well-publicized dispute with pitcher Gaylord Perry that had racial undertones, so when he also had trouble with Ellis, some wondered whether race was again a factor. Ellis was slumping, and Robinson, unhappy with his performance and attitude, benched and fined him.

"He will never become the regular catcher no matter what he does," Robinson said. "It's a mutual agreement. He says he can't play for me and I agree."

When a newspaper story suggested race was behind the Robinson-Ellis dispute, fans overwhelmingly backed Ellis, though he was hitting just .217.

"John Ellis emphasizes, insists, he has no racial animus and never did," Smith writes about the incident.

Traded to Texas, Ellis began 1976 on a tear but broke his leg sliding into second base at Fenway Park. He was out for the year and hardly played the next two seasons as well. He had one good year left in him, hitting .285 with 12 homers and 61 RBIs in 111 games in 1979. The Rangers quietly released him in spring training 1982.

As the bullpen catcher late in his career, he saw the end coming and started reading books about real estate during games. That paved the way for his next career, which had begun as a sideline with a property purchase in New London. He was making more in real estate than in baseball, and when it became his full-time job, the money kept rolling in.

But in 1986, it all nearly ended. Ellis had lost two siblings to cancer, and at age 38, he was diagnosed with third-stage Hodgkin's disease. He underwent brutal radiation treatments at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in New York, and thinking he might not survive, he made a vow.

"I said to God, 'You let me live, I'll help everybody I can,'" Ellis recalled.

He got through it and was good for his word. Two years later, 400 people packed the Groton Motor Inn for the inaugural dinner of the Connecticut Sports Foundation, which Ellis and his wife, Jane, had founded. The marquee guests were three Yankee legends: Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford and Billy Martin. Though Ellis was terrified they would be too drunk to show up, they came as promised, regaled the crowd and helped raise $100,000.

The foundation's auspicious debut led to annual dinners that have continued, hosted by Foxwoods Resort Casino and, more recently, Mohegan Sun. Baseball stars have always been the draw, and Smith devotes the second half of the book to their appearances and the general atmosphere.

"The dinners then were more like a baseball carnival — boys and girls running around with baseballs in their hands looking for major league signatures," he writes.

Some of the player anecdotes are telling. Red Sox Hall of Famer Carl Yastrzemski declined a seat at the head table so he could spend the evening signing programs for fans. Bill "Moose" Skowron, the Yankees' first baseman in the 1950s, lit up like a kid and pumped his fists when he was introduced, thrilled to again be in the limelight.

Though this is primarily a baseball book, the story is worth telling because of the higher purpose of Ellis' post-playing days. His organization, now known as the Connecticut Cancer Foundation and based in Old Saybrook, has assets of more than $10 million. In its first 33 years, it has provided $6.4 million to 7,700 cancer patients and $2.4 million for research at Memorial Sloan Kettering.

Those are the best stats of Ellis' career.

j.ruddy@theday.com