I was fortunate enough to watch a Major League Baseball game this past Thursday. There was very little concrete that comprised the construction makeup of the venue.

That’s because the New York Yankees and the Chicago White Sox played smack dab in the middle of an Iowa cornfield. 

Big smile from this seat. MLB, after being a poster child for stupidity for so many of its actions, finally got one right.

If you looked at the box score, a reported attendance of some 8,000 fans might be looked at as a colossal disappointment. 

However, from the comfort of my chair, it didn’t appear to be anyway to shoehorn anyone else into the stands. MLB built it and they did, indeed, come.

As a lifelong baseball fan, “Field of Dreams” is a movie that is so right in so many ways. Filmed in 1988, it told the story of a farmer (Kevin Costner) who receives a message while in the middle of his crops. 

The farmer is far from flush. His bank wants to foreclose, but Costner believes he sees a bevy of old-time baseball players where the leveraged corn used to be.

OK, this could be a huge spoiler for anyone who hasn’t seen the movie. And the film makers did everything right. It’s so pure. It has a phenomenal cast. Costner, James Earl Jones, Ray Liotta, Burt Lancaster, Timothy Busfield, Amy Madigan. 

The movie contains no car crashes, explosions, sex or violence. Well, kindly old doctor Archie Moon (Lancaster) does smack the bejezus out of Costner’s daughter, Gaby Hoffman. He had to dislodge a hot dog that had turned her a shade of Dodger blue.

By now, for you unfortunate souls who haven’t seen the movie, you’ll hopefully watch it this weekend. I’m betting it will be re-watched by sons and dads while curling up on a comfy sofa. 

I have found the movie plays quite well from my penultimate Father’s Day gift: a massager/recliner that heats up. One bad thing about the chair is that it slams home: Yes, you are that old.

Before letting you go, a couple confessions. Iowa is one of the three US states I have not set foot in. Never been top either of the Dakotas. Iowa is now on the list of pilgrimage places. Also, they reportedly serve “Apple Pie Hotdogs.” 

It would be faintly un-American not to sample that. I guess it would eliminate the danger of mustard stains on a shirt.

The other confession is that I’ll shed a tear every time Costner asks: “Hey Dad. You wanna have a catch?” I have a suspicion I’m not alone on sharing that emotion with a lot of other sons.

A recent onslaught from those fun-loving Indian telemarketers scamming for our hard-earned money while purportedly working for Amazon, PayPal, BestBuy, and others, had me wondering whatever happened to my old pal, Prakesh Kumar, the telemarketer who hopefully had seen the error of his ways after we spoke on one of his bogus sales calls.

Frankly, I had been a poor correspondent with Prakesh. Miraculously, the same day I was thinking about him, I received this last Sunday: “Hey Mike. How’re you doing?”

I answered: “I am well. I was thinking about you. More importantly, how are you doing? Please tell me what’s new in your life.”

And here was his “have a catch” reply: “I am alright Mike. Thank you. I am living in my native town and also got a job in a shopping mall here.

“Thanks a lot for opening my eyes. I am earning less but life is really very peaceful and great.”

Sometimes you write the column and other times, the column writes you. 

I’ll keep you in the loop when I speak with Prakesh. Any ideas what I can do?

Mike Tasos’ column appears every other weekend. Still no one’s business if I’ve been vaccinated. But no one better mess with college football. He is on Facebook and can be emailed at miketasos@earthlink.net.