The last one. A single tear falls, the sun sets and I hear the Growing Pains theme song in the background.

Must be the guys upstairs.

Now I need an idea.

But I couldn’t just write my final musing thanking people that have helped me through the years, because the list is never-ending.

And I definitely wanted to steer away from talking about the wonder that is Brett Favre, because frankly, my dying wish is not to be jumped by 20,000 Bears fans.

Rummaging through my movies, trying to come up with a relevant topic that may draw some correlation between my passion and the step graduating seniors are about to take, I came across one of my favorites – Field of Dreams.

Now it was 2:30 in the morning, I felt sick from some leftover birthday cake, and I had been studying for a final so I could have been seeing countless numbers of weird things, but I swear that as I started to flip through channels, there was Field of Dreams on television. As I’m holding the movie in my hand.

Ray Kinsella pitching to Joe Jackson. Kevin Costner pitching to Ray Liotta.

A sign.

After watching it for the umpteenth time, I had a startling revelation.

It wasn’t just important that Kinsella’s father came back, it was that sports brought them together.

That first game of catch for most people instills a love of sports and dreams of future memories from one generation to the next.

Because of that first catch with my father, I dreamed I would have started at linebacker for Notre Dame or been drafted in the first round by the White Sox.

Instead I was sidetracked in what, four years ago, I thought was mediocrity.

But in all honesty, it doesn’t matter that those of us who dreamt of fame and fortune playing the games we loved have been unfulfilled in one respect.

It was only important that those dreams were there because they sparked a perpetual interest that can be passed on forever.

This lifelong feeling can be best expressed through an ESPN commercial I saw the other day.

It shows a young child growing up through the years with his Cardinals blanket as the only constant.

It says, “Without sports, what would we hold on to?”

It’s the only way to explain my life and the lives of other sports enthusiasts whose exploits make no sense to the uninformed and uninterested.

It’s the only way to explain how we are eternal optimists and dream of a Chicago World Series or the Illini in a BCS championship game.

Or how I can sit on my couch for 12 hours and watch the NFL Draft, drive 15 hours overnight to see a Red Sox game, tape every Packers and Notre Dame game since I was nine, or live and die with every Favre pass, Big Hurt swing and Jordan jump shot.

Sure there is the trivialized disappointment that goes along with your team losing, but there is always the sense of hope and something better down the road that should be translated to all aspects of life.

After the realization that my body couldn’t take the pounding of the NFL or the rigors of an 162-game schedule (Yeah, those were the only reasons), I still dream of pursuing sports and watching sports because I found my passion because of that first time I played catch.

Most of you will understand where I’m coming from, especially if you’re a die-hard fan like me.

But if you’re only reading because my picture looked weird or you’re on your way to the crossword, let me simplify my hypothesis as I steal a quote from another classic, Rudy.

“Dreams are what make life tolerable.”

Class of 2005 and beyond.

After four years, or seven years for you doctors and Tommy Boy wanna-be’s, now is the time to start pursuing those dreams, whatever they may be.

We have better things ahead of us, and we’re off to a running start.

Has this been heaven?

No. It’s been four years in Champaign-Urbana.

Get ready for the real world.

But dream on.

Jeff Feyerer is a senior in applied life studies. He would like to thank his family, friends and everyone else that has supported him through the years. He can be reached at [email protected].