I am from the field of dreams, from the white lines

that can determine the game within inches, from the white bases

which have homed visitors throughout the years.

I am from the dugouts that created friends and cherished mentors, from the shoes,

that leave the stench of hard work and winning attitude, from the bats,

which posses the power to cause damage and heartache to the opponents. 

I am from the days of the shift of the defense and home runs, from the failure

of accepting strikeouts and errors as part of the game, from the perseverance 

of finding a way to help the team by scoring run and getting outs. 

I am from the crack of the bat lining the ball, from the glove 

that snaps from the sound of the ball entering it, to the umpire 

deciding the fate of the runner, is he safe or is he out?

I am from the sights and sounds of walking up to Miller Park, from the smell

of the hot dogs, brats, burgers, and the ballpark foods, from the days

of watching the 2011 Brewers of Ryan Braun and Prince Fielder.

I am from the lights that make me step up in the moment, from the baseballs

that without players none of this would be possible, and field where dreams are made

where I spend my final days taking in all the memories that can be made.