I miss my grandfather. You'd think after 9 years, it would be easier. Nope.

It was in his basement a long time ago, when I first watched wrestling on tv. One time, he wouldn't talk to me for a week, because I cheered when Larry Zbyszko hit Bruno Sammartino with a chair.

Soon, he'd start taking a bunch of us kids to the matches every month. It was the best part of every month.

Not too long after, I saw Magnificent Muraco, and always knew I wanted to grow up to be a wrestler.

Even though he never got to come to any of my matches, I'm sure he was watching. Before coming out every time, I'd talk to him, say I hope you're watching and proud of me.

For as long as I can remember, we always enjoyed Orioles baseball together too. I was so happy one time as a kid, to save up the money to take him to a game on Father's Day. He let me have the O's bucket hat they were giving away.

There's not a baseball game I watch these days where I don't think about how nice it would be to pick up the phone and say how about that catch, did you the HR, or whatever.

I'd give anything to be able to talk to him one more time. I still feel bad I didn't get home enough to see him before he passed away. I used to call him every Sunday, at least. Most of the time there would be the calls during a game here and there too.

I remember 9 years ago, like it was yesterday, something was wrong with the phone lines and I couldn't call on Sunday. I still had no phone on Monday. So on a Tuesday morning in July, I went to the gym and figured after I got home I'd grab some food and go back out to call him. I was getting ready to go back out, when the doorbell rang. A friend said I needed to call home. I knew right away. I said my grandfather died, didn't he? She said yes. From then on, I'd wished I'd went to a payphone a day earlier so I could have talked to him.

Maybe one day I will get a chance.

To my Grandfather,

Happy Father's Day.

I miss you and will always love you.