Happy Father's Day

Field of Dreams is one of those movies that just resonates with fathers and sons, and it’s no different for me and my dad. Growing up, Dad was always available for a catch. He coached me all the way through high school and was the guy everyone always wanted to play for. His teams won and had a good time doing it. He took a genuine interest in all of the kids he was entrusted to lead, and he impacted the lives of many, none more so than mine.

He and I have also been to countless games together as spectators, and some of my greatest memories are from those experiences. I remember living in New York in 2003 and taking my dad to Yankee Stadium via the 4-train for the first time. We were like giddy little kids peering out of the window as we emerged from the train tunnel and Yankee Stadium suddenly came into full view. That picture would be the definition of our baseball experience. We share the same passion for the game of baseball.

Later this summer, we are planning another one of those memorable trips. Dad and I are going to Iowa, to have a catch on THE “Field of Dreams” just like Ray Kinsella and his dad did at the end of the movie. I’m hoping to get a chance to take a swing or two as well. I’m dying to “put one in the corn” like Shoeless Joe.

Dad and I have all of these wonderful memories together, but the best example of how my father has been there for me doesn’t involve baseball, but instead, a phone call. I was in my office completely alone, most of my co-workers already gone for the evening when I received the call about Shani’s murder. The detective was on my cell phone, which I had in one hand, and I was completely out of my mind from the news I had just been given. With my cell phone still pressed to my ear and the detective sitting there in silence on the other end, I grabbed my desk phone with my other hand and dialed my dad. I needed him, and I knew he would be there.

Dad answered, “Hey, What’s up?”

“Shani’s dead, dad,” I screamed. “Shani’s dead. Zeke killed her. He shot her.”

I can’t even imagine what went through his mind when he heard those words. What I do know is that I called him at about 7:00 that evening, and by midnight, I was collapsing in my dad’s arms in Fort Lauderdale. He made it to Florida that quickly. I later learned that when he received my call, he simply got up out of his chair, walked into the bedroom to grab some stuff, and then hit the road for the 2-hour drive to the Atlanta airport. He took the first flight out to come and get me. He didn’t react emotionally in an effort to not alarm my mom, who was literally sitting right in front of him.

He and I were up all night and took the first flight out together to Atlanta the next morning. When we arrived, he drove me to mine and Shani’s townhome and then to the police station that afternoon. He sat next to me as we learned the details of Shani’s murder. He was also by my side in the courtroom during Zeke’s bond hearing a couple of weeks later. Dad was with me through the whole process.

He also made the 2-hour drive to Atlanta almost every day for the next month, just to be with me. One day in late June, he simply said, “I just can’t do it today, Mike. I’m exhausted.” I got it; I understood. Shani’s death had taken its toll on all of us, and Dad had exceeded his limits. I can promise you, though, if I had told him that I really needed him there, he still would have showed up.

I know it’s been tough on him to have to watch me go through this, and I’m sure there have been times when he’s not been sure if I would make it. Yet, every single day, he’s been around to help me when I couldn’t help myself. He’s still here for me, and no matter what he’s had going on, he has been my rock.

Dad and I have always shared a love for baseball, but nothing has ever brought us closer than the time we’ve had since Shani’s death. There is no limit to the appreciation we have for each other.

And as much as our bond has strengthened through all of this, I think we’re all ready to put this year behind us. This time has brought my family closer together, but it’s time to start creating more enjoyable memories again.

I can’t wait for the trip to Iowa. I can’t wait to step out on a ball field with my dad again. I can’t wait to have that catch. I just hope I can see the ball through the tears in my eyes.



Happy Father’s Day, Dad.  I love you.

Mike