The magic of baseball

 I watched "Field of Dreams" last night. It's definitely one of the greatest sports movies of all time, in my humble opinion.

A quick synopsis for those who aren't familiar with the 1989 flick: Kevin Costner plays Ray, a farmer in Iowa, who hears a voice saying "If you build it, he will come." He builds a baseball field in the middle of his corn. Long dead major league players appear out of nowhere and start practicing. 

Me and Dad in 2015

In the final scene, Ray sees one last player packing up his gear. He realizes the man is his father, whom he had a falling out with long ago. Ray's dad died before they could make up. 

Ray introduces his wife and daughter to his dad, then they talk. At the very end, Ray asks his dad to play catch. For me, this is the most moving part of the film.

I had a complicated relationship with my father. He was a hard person to get to know. He didn't talk much. When we spoke, it was usually about some game or other. He taught me to love sports, especially baseball.

I remember many a weekend afternoon when we'd play catch, just the two of us. Those were special times. We never said anything, but it was like we were communicating in a very special way.

Sometimes I think baseball is a magical sport. The way the foul lines seem to go on forever. The way each ballpark has a personality, with it's own dimensions and nooks and crannies. 

But maybe the magic of baseball was sharing it with my dad. On trips to Yankee Stadium, Shea Stadium, Fenway Park and later Coors Field. And on those weekend days so long ago, playing catch silently. 

He's been dead about five years. And when I watched the end of "Field of Dreams" last night, I thought back to my youth. And I wished that we could play catch just one more time.