My Field of Dreams

I was going to write about procrastination. I am a black belt. But the fact that I am finally at this computer puts an end to my latest go round. I wish I could just get past it for one time in my life, but then again, life may be just my way of procrastinating until I die. I think I’ll write more on this later – if I find the time.

I have several favorite movies, but there are only two that if I come upon them while channel surfing, I’ll stop and watch them till the end. (Channel surfing is the number one weapon of the master procrastinator.) The first one is “Casablanca.” It’s a wonder of script, acting, scenic design, camera work, directing, and the most romantic movie of all time. It’s not sappy romantic like “Ladyhawke,” but tough guy romantic. The hero gives up the girl for a noble purpose, and goes off into the moonset with his buddy. (If you even think there is any latent homosexuality in that, I will punch your lights out.) Of course, by saying goodbye to Ingrid Bergman, Humphrey Bogart knows damn well that he will be up to his eyeballs in gorgeous women from that moment on – e.g: Lauren Bacall.

My other, stop-me-in-my-tracks movie, is “Field of Dreams.” I just got done watching it while I was not writing this. Damn, what a story. It mixes fact and fantasy, present and past, new and old; but what it’s about at its core is fathers and sons, and their connection through baseball. I don’t know if women get this film at all. I don’t care. They can have “Sleepless in Seattle,” I’ll take “Field of Dreams.”

Baseball. Having a catch with your father. Having a catch with your sons. I have no idea why that is such a gut grabber. I’ve written about it before, but seeing the movie brings it back to me every time. You see, even though I have seen it at least 20 times, when it gets to the end where Ray Kinsella meets his father, I choke up every time. And when Kevin Costner says, “Dad, you want to have a catch,” I lose it completely, every time. If I’m alone, the tears start flowing. If I’m with another guy, I go get a beer and wash my face. If I’m with a woman, just enough tears to show her my sensitive side and get me in her pants.

By the way, say what you will about Kevin Costner’s acting, but his reading of that last line of his, is an all-time classic, right up there with, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Next time you see the movie, watch how full he is when he says that line. I like to think he did it on the first and only take. Every actor should have one moment in his career like that. Perfect.

I miss my father. I wish I could just visit with him one more time. We’d talk about stuff. Not important things, just stuff that comes up between fathers and sons. You see, women know how to talk about important things – about love, and how they really feel. Men love too, but we just don’t like to talk directly about it. I wish it could be different, but it’s not. We’re just not wired for it. Instead, we do things together and connect in sort of Bluetooth, wireless fashion. So, my dad and I, we wouldn’t have to have a catch. We’re both too old and it’s too muggy outside. Maybe we’d sit by the TV and watch a Yankee game together. We did that when I was little, and I would give anything to do that with him just one more time. He’d smoke his cigar, and now I’d smoke one with him. And my mother would not be allowed to come into the room waving her arms and complaining about this smoke like she used to do. Ok, I take that back. She should be there too, flailing away and yelling about the smoke, as if that would make a difference. And my boys would be there too -- the four of us, all grown up now, drinking beer, smoking up a storm, and watching young men playing a perfect game. That would be a moment to remember.

Perfect.