In 1980, a group of Swiss kids fixated on rockabilly music, muscle cars and other Americana. That’s when a couple of them thought it would be a great idea to start playing baseball in a country famous mostly for utility knives and yodeling.

One of these youngsters, Donato Resta, who grew up in Zurich, stole his dad’s hockey pads to serve as catcher’s gear. Two other Zurich locals had gloves. A pair of bats were also mustered, recalled Mr. Resta, but only one was serviceable.

The other “was a Little League bat,” Mr. Resta said recently. “So we couldn’t use it.”

More than three decades later, despite a stubbornly low level of local talent, Switzerland has now concluded its 35th year of organized baseball. Along the way, it has grown into a welcome option for unproven amateurs from abroad and fading veterans in search of one last season of glory.

Switzerland is the place to go “when you can’t play anywhere else,” said Eduardo Villacis, a pitcher who started one game in the major leagues for the Kansas City Royals, lasting less than four innings at the old Yankee Stadium, where he was credited with the loss.

By the time Mr. Villacis, 37 years old, arrived in Switzerland in 2011, he had a fading career and battered arm. But the drop off in competition meant he could still enjoy blowing hitters away. He earned the equivalent of $1,500 a month that season from the Bern Cardinals.

In Europe, a continent that has never really taken to the sport, the top baseball powers are the Netherlands and Italy. Then there are places like Germany and the Czech Republic. Finally, there’s a bottom tier of European leagues, anchored by Switzerland.

On that lower rung, Switzerland is distinguished by local talent ranked 50th in the world by the sport’s international governing body. That’s 20 slots behind Great Britain, 22 behind Sweden. Dozens of other countries tie for the bottom of the list, which ends at 72.

Chris Palatinus, now an official with the Swiss Baseball & Softball Federation, fell for baseball after seeing games broadcast in Zurich on a German TV station. Diehards like him can have a lonely existence in a country where soccer dominates, and most baseball equipment is only available online.

“Up until two years ago we had a Swiss retailer who was specialized in American sports,” Mr. Palatinus said, “but he quit.”

Swiss rules mandate that only two foreign ringers can be on the field for a team at the same time. Tapping this talent pool bolsters the league and is a boon for local players.

Michael Stowers, a 26-year-old from San Diego, is one such import. Playing for the Therwil Flyers, near Basel, he had a .475 batting average in the regular season this year (no one has hit over .400 in a major league season since 1941, when Ted Williams did it).

Mr. Stowers, who was paid a monthly salary equivalent to roughly $500, said the back-to-basics element of the Swiss game is appealing.

“Gosh, you know, in the states they hound you in practices and games, and you almost forget the fun of baseball.”

Werner Zingg, who with Mr. Resta was a founding father of Swiss baseball, used to go on scouting trips abroad. The local talent level is improving, he said.

The top Swiss league has eight teams. Some are in small towns like Therwil, or Sissach (home of the Frogs). Two are in Zurich, which has the only regulation ballpark in the country. Admission there is free. An August game between Therwil and the Zurich Barracudas drew about a dozen spectators as the first inning got underway. Locals wandering by occasionally stopped, and stared quizzically at the action.

Mike Settle, a 36-year-old Texan who has played several seasons in Switzerland, said some locals could compete in better leagues. In many cases, though, their hitting and throwing motions betray them. “Even if they’re not uncomfortable, they look uncomfortable,” Mr. Settle said.

Improvised fields, squeezed into areas meant for soccer or other sports, are a hallmark of the league. In Therwil, near Basel, the Flyers play in a park where the center field fence ended up about 300 feet from home plate (a standard distance is closer to 400 feet). To protect parked cars, they erected a roughly 30-foot-tall barrier in center, on the other side of a running track.

The odd set-up means passersby unwittingly wander onto the field during games, said Mr. Palatinus. “Umpires regularly have to chase away bystanders.”

Mr. Zingg umpired the game in November, 1980, between Mr. Resta’s Zurich team and a Lucerne team, which gave birth to organized baseball in Switzerland. The contest was called due to snow. “We had to stop in the third inning,” Mr. Zingg said. But enough interest was generated to form a league the following year.

The Zurich team, which took the name Challengers, recently lost a post-season series against Therwil. The Lucerne team, originally called the White Sox, eventually changed its name to the Eagles. The Zurich Barracudas, which Mr. Resta also co-founded, lost to Therwil in a championship series.

Mr. Resta now runs a company that does international baseball scouting. He and some of the other pioneers are less than thrilled with how the Swiss game has developed.

“Such a rich country and nothing is going on!” Mr. Resta said.

That’s not entirely true. Baseball’s world governing body, the World Baseball Softball Confederation, has its headquarters in the Swiss city Lausanne.

“People say why you are in Lausanne, there’s not even a [regulation] baseball field in Lausanne,” WBSC Executive Director Michael Schmidt reflected during a recent chat. Like other international sports organizations, the WBSC wanted to be close to the Lausanne-based International Olympic Committee.

Mr. Schmidt (who is not Mike Schmidt, the Philadelphia Phillies third baseman inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1995), said he’s aware of the local baseball team, the Lausanne Indians.

He said he hasn’t been to a game.

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