Power streaming a police mystery series that’s grabbed my attention, I forgot about the Field of Dreams game Thursday night.
I probably would have tuned in, if only for a quick hit of hagiographic nostalgia.
I’ve always had an odd reaction to the movie. Mostly because I find Kevin Costner to be insufferable.
That the field itself in Dyersville, Iowa has become an iconic vacation destination has also struck me as odd.
It’s a movie set, for heaven’s sake.
Thursday, and again the morning after, it finally sank in; the reasons for the adoration.
The upcoming game was mentioned on the telecast that afternoon as I was watching my Detroit Tigers shut out the Guardians.
There I was, an octogenarian, standing, rocking side to side in anticipation. Wearing a ballcap heralding Detroit’s first Series title. My left hand snug into my Wilson A2024 Al Kaline glove. As I nervously slapped into it, an official Rob Manfred-autographed, 108 double stitched horsehide ball while Kenley Jensen hurled to close it out.
Then I saw former Phillie Mike Schmidt’s quote when reading about the evening in Iowa.
“If I could see my father walk through the cornfields, I tell you what, I’d love to play catch with him. That pretty much sums it up for me.”
And a quote from a guy who played in the movie.
“That father-son thing just smacks you in the face. No question about it.”
Fathers. Sons. Pitch and catch.
The thwack of ball to glove.
I tear up again.
As I’ve written before, my dad was a huge baseball guy.
He was commissioner of my Little League.
He was pals with the PA announcer at Parkway Field for the Colonels games, and we’d go and sit in the booth.
Fathers. Sons. Pitch and catch.
The thwack of ball to glove.
For those lucky ones of us, that was the arc of our youth in the 50s.
On the lawn after dinner.
Baseball, that movie, a game played in that bucolic setting; it represents a yearning.
For a time when the leisurely pace of baseball was metaphor for America.
Gentler. Pastoral. Calmer.
Another game tomorrow, if today’s didn’t go well.
There’s an opener of a big series tonight with the ChiSox.
My glove, ball inside, awaits by the screen for first pitch.
— c d kaplan
Exactly.
Thanks, very well put. The James Earl Jones soliloquy near the end of the movie is one of my all time favorite film scenes, some of your comments seem inspired by it. I am impressed that you still have your Al Kaline glove, I wish I still had my Bob Allison glove. I didn’t have any allegiance to the Twins, but since it was my first glove I treasured his baseball card, which I also no longer have. If you’re wondering why I no longer have these things I “treasured”, lets say I went through a Ray Kinsella period of my own post-high school.
Man. Your article hits home for me. I vividly remember playing catch with my dad and in turn with my sons. I remember teaching my son to catch fly balls by hitting him pop-ups. I attribute my best season hitting the softball to this drill with my son. I had to really concentrate on the ball to hit a nice pop-up. It helped me see the ball better lol. Anyway, it was super fun helping my sons improve in the game that I still love. Red Sox fan here though. Fell in love with them when Louisville baseball was affiliated with them in the late sixties!
I’ve had the chance to visit the site in Dyersville a couple of times (thankfully before the Lansing family sold the farm). It’s literally what it is, a baseball field carved out of a sea of cornfields, and and the ambiance really does hit you when you go. If you’re ever galivanting across the upper Midwest, it’s worth it to stop and check it out.