As a popular and sometimes controversial pitcher for the Boston Red Sox, Bill Lee, also known as the Spaceman, spoke up on just about every subject that popped into his head: Maoist China, population control, school bussing in Boston, Eastern philosophy, double-headers on Sunday and the legalization of marijuana.

At the Martha’s Vineyard Regional High School baseball diamond yesterday, prior to the annual Cape League game between the Falmouth Commodores and the Wareham Gatemen, Mr. Lee held court with some of the top college players in the country and again surfed through a dizzying maze of topics, some baseball-related and some not.

Red Sox pitcher Daisuke Matsuzaka’s pitch counts. Southern California football. Steroid-laden milk. Former Red Sox manager Donald Zimmer’s faults. But for one long stretch one particular topic caught the fancy of Mr. Lee: aluminum baseball bats.

“Those aluminum bats will ruin you . . . you need a bat you form a relationship with, something that grew in the ground. Something that someone carefully built and worried over,” he told about a dozen players before the game.

Although these are all college players who use aluminum bats at school, the Cape League uses only wooden bats. And as the white-bearded, fedora-wearing Spaceman continued to extol the virtues of wooden bats, the unmistakable sound of a young hitter smacking the ball with a piece of lumber from the batting cages and the field created the perfect backdrop.

“That is the most beautiful sound in the world,” he said at one point.

Speaking later with a reporter, Mr. Lee expounded on his love of wooden bats. He explained that he owns a lumber company and produces baseball bats for Major League players, including David Ortiz. His lumber is chosen from the farm he lives on in Craftsbury, Vt., and then shipped to Fall River.

Characteristically, the subject changes frequently.

“Why do you think Barry Bonds hit all those home runs? It wasn’t just the steroids, it was his bat, a new maple bat built by one of the finest craftsmen around. Before he was breaking every bat, but then he gets this new bat and he gets a little more weight behind the hands and chokes up and then he is hitting home runs all over the place,” he said.

Asked if steroids are bad for the game, he gives a complicated answer.

“People say he’s on the juice. But just look at the ingredients of the milk we’re all drinking; it’s got hormones, chemicals. So we’re all on the juice. No, I don’t think it’s bad for the game, because I think the game will survive. It’s a strong game, stronger than ever. You can’t kill it. You won’t ever kill it. People have tried and failed,” he said.

Bill Lee spent 10 seasons with the Sox from 1969 to 1978, becoming one of the most effective southpaws in team history. His 321 games pitched by a lefty is a franchise record, and he’s third all-time with 94 wins as a left-hander. Last November he was inducted into the Red Sox Hall of Fame. He’s still involved in the game, and not just from the sidelines. He has played for a number of semi-professional teams since retirement, and he also ran for President of the United States in 1988 on the Canadian Political Rhinoceros Party ticket, although he failed to appear on the ballot in any state. His slogan for the election was “No guns. No butter. Both can kill.”

He has played for the short-lived Senior League of Florida, the Oil Can Boyd All Star Team in New Hampshire and the Grey Sox, the short-lived, semi-pro team composed of former Red Sox players. Last summer he pitched for the Alaska Goldpanners in their 10 to 6 win in Fairbanks, Alaska, during the annual Midnight Sun ball game played at night on the Summer Solstice.

The Spaceman prides himself on saying he lives his life in a series of “small untruths,” and in getting meals, trips and other stuff for free.

He is a huge fan of Cuban baseball, an even bigger opponent of the designated hitter, but above all a lover of all things baseball. When talking to the Cape League players yesterday, he said he could return to Fenway today and — with a good defense behind him — still win games. “I can throw a cutter inside at 80 m.p.h, and then I own you low and away,” he said.

Reflecting on his playing days with the Sox, he said much has changed since he won 17 games three years in a row from 1974 to 1976.

“I pitched 222 games and I completed 73. I was just as strong in the eighth inning as I was in the first; actually I was stronger. If you didn’t get me in the first, you didn’t get me at all. The key was flexibility . . . now the players spend all their time in the weight room, but when I played I never lifted anything heavier than five pounds,” he said.

The topic leads to a brief riff on yoga and exercise and other unexpected places.

“I do yoga. I remain flexible. My blood pressure is 110 over 60. But they still told me they want to give me a colonoscopy. I told them forget it. I don’t eat sugar. I’ll have my occasional stack of pancakes, But [major league pitcher] Jim Palmer had pancakes before every game. And Jim Palmer is in the hall of fame. They called him Cakes.”

And when talking to a group of Island Little Leaguers earlier in the day, he offered baseball-themed lessons on life.

“Hitting is fun. Life should be fun. Remember you only get a few trips to the plate in a game, just like in life. And if you get a hit one out of every three times, you’re a hall of famer. But that means you fail two out of every three times . . . but that’s okay,” he said, adding:

“Remember, you can’t walk off this Island. You have to hit your way off this Island.”