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Dave Reardon

Press Box

DAVE REARDON

Sunday, June 17, 2001


Dad is the star of
this Dream Team

DEAR Dad: It's been 20 years since the heart attack stole you away. But I still get to see you.

Just the other night we were together at Fenway Park, like the time in 1974 when you were alive and the entire family -- all seven of us -- visited your hometown on vacation. But this time in the virtual reality of my REM, we watched Yaz, Teddy Ballgame and Pedro on the field together.

Hey, "Field of Dreams" has got nothing on us.

I woke up before the game ended and remember few details. But it was the best inning-and-a-half I've ever seen. Because you were there.

We didn't talk much, not like when you were alive. But I love the crazy idea that we can still be together, where we were, however briefly. And you were smiling the whole time, so I'm sure you feel the same way.

Every Father's Day I think a bit about how I never amounted to much as a ballplayer (despite the fact that you pitched in the pros a couple years), and how that must have disappointed you. But then I remember that, unlike many fathers, you gracefully accepted my athletic incompetence.

And even though you knew I was never going to make it to The Show, you patiently, with your one bad hand and all, hit me flyball after flyball until I learned to catch one every once in awhile.

And you always reminded me there's more to life than trying to become a super jock. You did it as kindly as you could, but, still, sometimes I didn't want to hear it. Now I know you were right.

One of those great joys you (and Mom) passed along was reading.

THEOTHERNIGHT when you last dropped by, I had just finished reading a book called "Columbus Slaughters Braves."

I think the story prompted your visit, because Mark Friedman's brilliantly crafted first novel is all about the two things you and I have most in common: sports and family.

The book grabbed me from the beginning. I guess because I could relate to having a younger brother who was much better than me at sports.

Unlike the character in the novel, Joe didn't make it to the big leagues -- but who knows what may have happened if he hadn't gotten very sick while in high school?

Anyway, Dad, where you are I figure you can get any book you want. Make sure you read this one.

Besides the great writing, I think you will appreciate the storyline; in many ways our family -- and, I'm certain, countless others -- have lived it. It's about part of what you tried to teach us: When it's crunch time, put all the petty grudges aside and stand up for your family.

I guess that's the definition of loyalty. And I know you agree loyalty is one of the most important commodities in a home, an office or a ballteam's clubhouse.

Well, I've digressed. I mostly wanted to share an outstanding book with you on your day and reflect on the good times and the hard lessons.

For a long time I felt abandoned by you. But your visits are increasing and I count them as blessings, never hauntings.

Maybe one day we'll see the Red Sox win the Series together. Anything can happen in dreams.

Happy Father's Day.



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