Those words, spoken by James Earl Jones' Terence Mann in the iconic baseball film "Field of Dreams" have profoundly reverberated through the pantheon of fandom over the past two-plus decades.

 There is no question that the impact of the words stems, in no small part, from the emphatic, firm, yet grandfatherly way in which Jones delivered the lines.

 Purposeful. Powerful. As if the voice of God were speaking through him to we, the masses of a chaotic universe.

 They were words about us.

 The truth is, a good many people ultimately turn back to sport to get them through the day.

 It is - the dangers of gambling aside - one of the vices that not only spews forth little in the way of ill effects, but for those who are inspired by it, for those who get up off the sofa and throw on a pair of running shoes or grab a golf club or a curling broom, it can be healing for the mental and the physical.

 We see it right here in Lunenburg County each and every day.

 People are searching for peace in their paces on the Centennial Trail in the mists of the early morning.

 They are attempting to find inner quiet when they lace up the skates and crash the ice at an ungodly hour, in the darkened cold, long after most sane people have retired for the night.

 The quest for serenity with the universe is arguably the underlying element in everything: every swing of a softball bat, every push on a bicycle pedal, every thrash of a tennis racket through the air.

 But as much as we are all about playing sports, we also derive a great deal of satisfaction from watching sports.

 We go religiously to summertime soccer and baseball games.

 We pack local gymnasiums with fervour and cheer loudly for basketball games at all levels.

 We take our children to see the Lumberjacks and Mooseheads and Maple Leafs and Flames.

 We encourage them to get autographs and shake hands and interact at close range with athletes, both amateur and professional.

 We get them to pose for photos, with big, wide, awe-inspired smiles with their favourites after the game.

 We encourage them to reach out and make contact with their childhood heroes.

 All of which is, in no small way, part of the whole experience of going to a game, just as sure as it is part of growing up.

 And it is because of that - because of the precious and frequent nature of the interaction between children and athletes - that I can sit here at my desk today and tell you that I have no quarrel whatsoever with players from the Toronto Maple Leafs, Toronto Raptors, Calgary Flames (and probably others) getting their H1N1 vaccinations.

 First and foremost, whether wecare to acknowledge it or not, many of these guys - especially those who are in their mid-20s - fall into a category where, because of their age and conditioning, they are, the experts tell us, among the high-risk population.

 Furthermore, whether or not these guys are multimillionaires - again, as they are in many cases - they are still human beings, with families, and as such, as part of the high-risk group, they should not be admonished for accepting H1N1 vaccines, just the same way anyone else in their position would.

 But what really left me feeling unsettled this week was the reaction of the anti-pro athlete, far left-wing media in this country that condemned the clubs for arranging for vaccines for these players who: i) travel extensively throughout North America, and ii) have constant contact with children no matter where they go.

 To me, this is not about preferential treatment or people jumping cues to get vaccinated - this is about doing something intelligent and simple to prevent the unnecessary spread of H1N1 through close contact across cities throughout North America.

 I applaud the officials involved with the decision for taking such a smart, pre-emptive measure to inhibit the further proliferation of the virus.

 From this seat on the bleachers, it was the right thing to do - because it will give a continent of fans and players a sense of peace that they might otherwise lack.