"I only saw him years later when he was worn down by life..."

The first time I saw the film: "Field of Dreams", upon its conclusion I called my father and in tears told him how much I loved him. In many ways my father was John Kinsella.

My dad played ball while serving in the Army and was almost drafted to Milwaukee until a game injury to his lower left leg ended any chances of even seeing the Minors. I'm sure the reality of this was crushing for him. For my Dad, life was always centered around the sport he loved and my Mom, but a new course called of finding a job and supporting a couple of kids.

From there it takes a familiar course of alcoholism, gambling and self -medication of grieving a dream never realized. My Dad had many escapes but never wavered in his role as a father. As a young boy I can remember playing catch with him, but Dad always wanted the sport to come to us. There would be no forced "living a dream" through one of his children. Sadly, none of us took to the bat and glove, but he didn't care. I remember watching my dad play softball at many company picnics. He was the star.

Later when I became a man, I worked down the street from my father. I pressed forklift tires and was a parts "monkey" all day, while Dad ran an adhesive tape warehouse. I remember some of those New Orleans' Summers and I'd drive to grab some lunch money from my father. I would find him sitting and sweating on the floor of a small office with no air conditioning. He always had a big smile when I walked up: "What do you need son?" Of course he knew the answer. I think he enjoyed seeing me during his day.

In 2004, I returned home to care for him in his final days battling lung cancer. If I was told I had to carry him every night to bed, I would have, because he would have done the same for me, for any of us. He was one of the most selfless men I have ever known, humble and kind. In what is still hard to put into words, his final moment was with me, both of us not afraid when I said: "Daddy, you can let go. It's alright." He nodded and quietly passed.

Now living in Chicago, I have been to so many Cubs games at Wrigley Field and every time I'm there I wish he were with me. On a beautiful, sunny day it is like heaven, his heaven and somewhere a dream has finally come true. "What are you grinin' at you ghost?" Gotta love that line.