I am sitting, reading. My four-year-old son is likewise sitting, playing.

He glances up and looks at the man on the cover, reflections of whose life are held within.

“Why did Harry Kalas die, Dad?” he asks.

I fumble over my reply, “Well, he was a little bit old… and it was time for him to go to heaven.”

My son responded with another question, but one that told me he had it all figured out already.

“Is Harry in baseball heaven, Dad?”

I smiled, looked at the man on the cover, and nodded.

The boy was right.

Baseball heaven, where spirits play in a field of dreams and the sounds of summer echo for eternity.

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