Sunday, June 17, 2007
(posted by OMDQ)
(programming note: posting will be inconsistent tomorrow due to my required presence at a family barbecue. Yeah, I'll miss all of you too)
Maybe it's because I was fortunate enough to grow up with a great dad. Maybe it's because in less than a month, I'll be standing in the delivery room of the local hospital, introducing myself to my own son. Or maybe, it's because I work with special needs kids and have seen parents who would literally run a marathon if they thought it might bring some joy to their child's life.
Whatever the reason, one thing is undeniable: this video made me cry like a Little Leaguer meeting Erin Andrews for the first time and realizing a female of that caliber will never again initiate conversation with him. None of that "it's the end of Field of Dreams and he's playing catch with his dead dad and it's so nice and I wanna go play catch with my dad RIGHT NOW right this DAMN MINUTE even though he lives an hour away and by the time I get there I really won't feel like playing catch anymore and he'll probably just be doing yard work anyway and won't have the time" crap, either; it was more of the "aw, hell, might as well just let 'em go and wipe my eyes in four minutes" quality.
Moral of the story: if you have a father, are a father, or know any good fathers, keep a tissue or two handy while watching this. I promise, we won't think less of you for it.