I commemorated Father’s Day last weekend like nearly everyone else, with loved ones, kids and your dad, celebrating the person who helped mold you into the person you have become. Maybe it was a barbecue, a day on the golf course, an overdue conversation. For myself, I marked the occasion by having a catch with my dad for the first time in 40 years. The idea came to me a while back. How many of us remember the last time we played catch with our fathers? The sad truth is most of us were nine or ten years old the last time we tossed the baseball back and forth, and we didn’t realize that it would be the final time we participated in the ritual. Many times, later in life, when our dad is gone or not able to do so, we wish we had taken the opportunity to toss the ball around one last time.
Sunday, I put my plan into action. After spending time visiting and looking over the garden, I implored my dad to humor me by donning a mitt and enjoying a quick toss. Much to my surprise, he didn’t argue. Before I knew it, we were standing in the backyard, gloves in hand, tossing the ball around. It didn’t last long, maybe eight to ten minutes, but I soaked it all in.
Enhancing the moment, my son Alex joined along, allowing three generations to go back in time to a place in our youth when we didn’t see it as a special moment, just an ordinary day playing catch with Dad.
Baseball, America’s pastime, has been an integral cog in the building of relationships between fathers and sons. The time-honored tradition binds us together for all of time. As we grow, we leave Dad behind for our neighbors and friends. We gather at the park or ballfields for pickup games, never forgetting what Dad taught us about the game, but at the same time, not relying on him any longer. Someday, if you’re lucky, you get to pass that knowledge down to your son or daughter. Patience is key. Over time, the methodical back-and-forth becomes second nature. Baseball. It is not just a game played at ballparks or on T.V.; it is an age-old way of bringing dads and kids together, creating life-long bonds and memories.
Before Sunday, I couldn’t tell you the last time I played catch with my dad. Now, after executing my scheme to perfection, my son and I will have this memory to cherish for years to come.
All this led to watching “Field of Dreams” as I lay in bed Sunday night. The movie, one of my absolute favorites, has always held a special place in my heart. Who doesn’t want to have the opportunity to go back in time? To have a catch with your father when he is in his prime, long before the years of hard work have taken their toll. Long before you realize it’s too late.
Terrance Mann, the character played by the late James Earl Jones, powerfully uttered one of my favorite quotes of all time, as only he could in his deep, bass-filled voice. If you are unfamiliar with the 1989 movie, the family (Kevin Costner and Amy Madigan) is discussing how it can afford to keep a baseball field in the middle of a premium cornfield in Iowa. The bank is threatening foreclosure, and Ray’s (Costner) daughter, Karin (played by Gaby Hoffmann), states that people will come. The field in question represents a place where dreams can come true. A place where people get a second chance in life. A place some may refer to as heaven.
That’s when Mann (Jones), in a style only he could deliver, began his epic speech—telling of the importance of baseball, not just to individuals but to the country as a whole.
Mann begins, “Ray, people will come, Ray. They’ll come to Iowa for reasons they can’t even fathom. They’ll turn up your driveway, not knowing for sure why they’re doing it. They’ll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. Of course, we won’t mind if you look around, you’ll say. It’s only twenty dollars per person. They’ll pass over the money without even thinking about it. For it is money they have and peace they lack.”
After Ray’s brother-in-law Mark tells him to sign the bank papers, Mann interjects again.
“And they’ll walk out to the bleachers and sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They’ll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they’ll watch the game, and it’ll be as if they’d dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick, they’ll have to brush them away from their faces.”
Again, Mark says the bank is going to foreclose and again, Mann sternly continues without missing a beat.
“The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball marked the time. This field, this game, it’s part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again. Oh, people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come.”
That quote from the 1989 movie Field of Dreams resonates with me every time; it evokes an emotional response in a way I cannot explain. The passion with which James Earl Jones pleads his case for keeping the field, stating how important baseball is in the lives of many, is stirring. It hits, and it hits hard.
We all yearn for a simpler time. Back to the time we picked up our glove for the first time, stuck it to our face and inhaled all its glory. When we stepped on the field for the first time and kicked the dirt around. To the first time we excitedly strolled into a ballpark to watch grown men play the game we loved. Most importantly, back to the carefree days of asking Dad, after he arrived home from a long day at work, to go outside and have a catch.