The baseball foodchain dictates that you gotta feast on the lesser teams, and the Sox did just that in Seattle, sweeping away the Mariners and doing everything short of hanging Ichiro by his jock from the Space Needle. And tomorrow night, we get the Mighty Thortiz back in the line-up, by far the best trade deadline gift we could make to ourselves. The fact that the Yankees are in town–and nipping at our heels in the standings–sets the stage for a maddeningly exciting weekend.

So why the hell am I crying?

I’ll tell you why. Because against my better judgment, I just watched the goddam final scene of Field of Dreams.

Look, as movies go, Field of Dreams is like a nuclear bomb of an emotional assault. As an “adult” male, Ray Kinsella’s cosmic uncertainty as to the “purpose” of his life is pretty poignant. As a baseball fan, Terrance Mann’s “people will come, Ray” oration may well be the most uplifting speech I’ve heard in my lifetime. As a father, the scene where Ray’s daughter slips and falls off the bleachers is gut-wrenching. And as a pervert, the fact that there isn’t at least one scene of Jessica Alba inexplicably appearing out of the cornfield to drop trou is deeply troubling.

But as a son, nothing gets me like Costner’s last line of the film. “Hey, Dad… you wanna have a catch?”

Just listen to the way he says it. The way his voice kinda cracks. The nervous, hopeful inflection he’s wrapped around it. Everytime I watch this flick, I tell myself I’m gonna make it without bawling. But I still can’t make it past this scene:

Off-night tonight before New York comes to town. But Manny’s ready.

Ramirez was asked after the 6-3, 12-inning victory if he would be available tomorrow night against the Yankees.

“Don’t worry about it,” was his reply.

I won’t. Will you?