Happy Father’s Day—To All My Fathers

When you move 2,000 miles away from your dad at the age of 10, you miss your father. But if you’re lucky, as I was, good men step in to fill the void.

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By Michael Judge

When you move 2,000 miles away from your dad at the age of 10, you miss your father. You miss the sound of his voice, the smell of his shaving cream in the morning, the feel of his whiskers on your face when he kisses you goodnight.

But if you’re lucky, as I was, good men step in to fill the void. This Father’s Day, the tenth without my dad—he passed away in 2014 after a long and brave bout with cancer—I’m thanking all the men who stepped up and did their best to fill my dad’s shoes (size 10) when he couldn’t be there.

First on my list is my grade-school principal, Robert Dutcher. When we moved to Mason City from California in 1977, Mr. Dutcher reached out and took me to Father-Son Night. I still remember the feel of his hand on my shoulder, his reassuring tone. He died before I had a chance to thank him.

Thank you, Mr. Dutcher.

Second on my list is all my coaches, the men who took the time to teach me how to win—and lose—with grace, whether it be on the baseball d…