Softball players at Flan ders Field in Chilmark paid tribute last Sunday to Jerome Kohlberg, who died two weeks ago at the age of 90.

“Jerry,” as he was known at the weekly summer game, had a storied 50-year career, beginning in the 1940s at the rugged, rock-strewn patch called Toomey Field. Teammates remember his speed on the base paths and his skill at scooping grounders from the sand pit that constituted third base. Over time, a fading throwing arm forced Mr. Kohlberg to the other side of the infield, then into early retirement from softball in his seventies.

Most of all, however, players celebrated Mr. Kohlberg as a warm and humble presence in a game known for its first-names-only informality and good-humored banter. He always wore a red floppy hat that “made him look more like a peasant or monk than a titan of business,” recalls Jason Balaban, who joined the game as a child and was often driven home by Mr. Kohlberg in a beat-up Land Rover with grinding gears.

Another veteran, Mark Friedman, was unaware of Mr. Kohlberg’s last name or fame, and knew only the “important stuff, like whether he was a pull hitter and could make the pivot on an occasional double-play grounder.”

Then, in the late 1980s, when the game temporarily moved to West Tisbury, Mr. Kohlberg covered almost the entire cost of a new outfield fence (as well as providing fresh softballs every season). Mr. Friedman recalls quipping to a fellow player, “Jerry must have a really good job.” He was “dumbfounded” to learn that the unassuming Mr. Kohlberg was one of the most successful figures on Wall Street.

“He epitomized the egalitarian spirit of Chilmark softball,” says David Dince, who began playing with Mr. Kohlberg as an 11-year-old in 1964. For decades, he adds, “many of us continued to know nothing of his immense success in life off the field. He was simply Jerry to us — an excellent ball player and one of the nicest guys you will ever meet.”

I joined the Chilmark game in 2006, after Mr. Kohlberg’s mitt and signature hat had been retired. But when I met him a few years ago and mentioned softball, his face lit up as he regaled me with tales of the game’s fellowship and chatter. He never let on that he was one of the all-time greats at negotiating Chilmark’s sand, rocks and poison ivy.

After the tributes last Sunday, the softballers shouted a “hip-hip-hooray!” for Mr. Kohlberg, observed a moment of silence and then resumed play. Much fun and many fielding errors followed.

Tony Horwitz pitched the second game at Chilmark last Sunday, surrendering 24 runs and earning a well-deserved loss. He lives in West Tisbury.