After retiring from the Red Sox in 1960, Ted Williams lived another 42 years and engaged in many of the pursuits that drove him while he played. He fished. He worked for the Jimmy Fund. And he stayed in baseball as a manager, hitting instructor, and goodwill ambassador.

He even tipped his cap.

The Yankees tried to hire him as a $125,000-a-year pinch hitter in 1961, but he declined. Instead, he went to work as a pitchman for Sears. Given Williams’s background in fishing and hunting, it was a perfect marriage. Greater Bostonians who grew up in the 1960s still think of Williams as a guy hawking Sears outdoor and recreation equipment, just as a specific generation of Americans would come to think of Joe DiMaggio as Mr. Coffee.

He never made a ton of money. He started a fishing tackle business with Sam Snead in Miami, but that didn’t pan out. He got involved in a land deal with his New Hampshire pal, Sam Tamposi, and that became the foundation for what would become the Ted Williams Museum and Hitters Hall of Fame in the remote outpost of Hernando (Citrus Hills), Fla.

Two years after he retired, Williams married for the second time, exchanging vows with Lee Howard, a Chicago socialite. It was a brief union.

In 1966, he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility. He was enshrined alongside Casey Stengel and closed his speech with, ‘‘ ... I’m grateful and know how lucky I was to have been born an American and had a chance to play the game I love, the greatest game.’’

In 1968, Williams married Delores Wettach, with whom he had two more children, John Henry and Claudia (he had a daughter, Bobby Jo, from his first marriage).

When his son was an infant, Williams left his boat in Florida and agreed to manage the Washington Senators. He signed a deal worth $1.25 million for five years, but resigned after his fourth season, a year after the team moved to Texas, compiling a 273-364 (.429) record. They improved by 21 games in his first season, when he was named manager of the year. He celebrated by going hunting in Nairobi in the offseason.

In his autobiography, Williams wrote, ‘‘Managing is essentially a loser’s job, and managers are about the most expendable pieces of furniture on earth.’’ He also wrote, ‘‘I would discover — at age 50 — that I could still hit better than any player on the team and would be sorely tempted to pinch hit.’’

In 1978, he was hired by Tom Yawkey as a permanent part of the Red Sox organization. Theodore S. Williams is still listed in the official club directory under the title ‘‘instructor.’’

His relationship with the Boston ball club improved through the years. He refused an offer to throw out a first ball during the 1967 World Series between the Red Sox and Cardinals, but was on the Sox charter during the playoffs in 1986. He didn’t think much of oldtimers’ days, but in 1982, at the age of 64, Williams played left field in Fenway for one last time and made a shoe-top catch.

He came to Red Sox training camp in Winter Haven, Fla., every year to fish and teach hitting. The teaching pleased him. He hung out with his old pal, Johnny Pesky. He worked with minor leaguers and major leaguers. He told them all to use a little uppercut into their swing; most important: get a good pitch to hit.

Most of his post-career visits to Boston were for the benefit of the Jimmy Fund. He gleefully traded the currency of his fame in the quest to eradicate cancer in children. In 1995, the same day the Ted Williams Tunnel was dedicated by Massachusetts Gov. William Weld, Williams attended a Dana Farber fundraiser at the Park Plaza. The night marked the beginning of the ‘‘.406 Club,’’ a foundation that raised $2 million for the Jimmy Fund.

Two strokes curtailed his activity in the 1990s. His vision was severely impaired and he no longer could fish. The Red Sox supplied him with a big-screen television, on which he continued to watch baseball games. He also loved watching the History Channel.

He loved his Dalmation, ‘‘Slugger.’’ He lived in a large home in Citrus Hills and oversaw Ted Williams Family Enterprises, which was run by John Henry. He opened the Ted Williams Museum and Hitters Hall of Fame. Muhammad Ali and Joe DiMaggio came to the ribbon-cutting event.

He became much more accessible and gregarious. Thomas Boswell of the Washington Post, in 1999, described Williams as Father Baseball. The Kid found peace and happiness in the 42 years after he stopped hitting.

In 1999, Williams made his final appearance in Boston. He met the original ‘‘Jimmy’’ of Jimmy Fund fame, then threw out the first ball at the All-Star Game at Fenway. He was surrounded by members of the All-Century team and ’99 All-Stars. It was the greatest assemblage of baseball talent ever on one field, and Teddy Ballgame was the center of attention.