The 350th or so viewing of "Field of Dreams"...

Friday night, we went over to Jackie Robinson Ballpark to partake in the Daytona Tortugas’ movie night. They showed “Field of Dreams” on the jumbotron and it was fun to watch the movie sitting in the outfield and then have the obligatory Father-Son post-movie catch on the infield. That was hampered somewhat because, bluntly, both my son and I have throwing and catching mechanics that leave much to be desired.

I chronicled that experience over on my Facebook page. Here’s the part about what part of the movie got to me this time.

It was the scenes where Ray Kinsella and Terrance Mann were in Minnesota trying to learn more about Doc Graham. The first thing Terrance did was stop in the newspaper office and it paid off – the seasoned journalist/editor knew Doc and shared the obit she wrote with them.

“You’re a good writer” Terrance told her.

“So were you,” she retorted.

There was also the scene where Terrance is at the bar interviewing the locals about Doc and James Earl Jones played it where Terrance was actually enjoying compiling the information. He had the same smile as the scene where he was delivering “People will come, Ray” in the more quoted parted of the film.

Those scenes struck me this viewing – the importance of the local news room, the joy of telling a story and even the fact the local writer was cranking out stories just as compelling as the Pulitzer Prize winner in the eyes of the Pulitzer Prize winner. Took a little more out of it, I suppose.

And then after that, I recited the “People will come” speech along with James Earl Jones, chopped some onions when the Kinsellas had a catch, and then had a catch with my son on the spot where Jackie Robinson played second base in the first modern integrated spring training game.

It was a good night.

 

My dad was a huge Phillies fan, and Richie Ashburn was his favorite player growing up. Ashburn grew up in Tilden, Nebraska, which was only an hour or so away from where my sister went to college. So, one time while we were visiting my sister and had some down time, he took an afternoon and went on a quest kind of like Terrance Mann's.
He drove to Tilden, visited the library, found some friendly folks who pointed him in the right direction, and visited Richie Ashburn's boyhood home. He had tea with Ashburn's 90-something-year-old mother, she showed him some old photos and told him stories, and he was absolutely beaming when he got back to my sister's house. It was something he had talked about doing for years, and he finally crossed it off his bucket list.

Being a dumb kid in my late teens I didn't appreciate how much that meant to him or how cool it would have been to go with him on that trip. I thought it was a silly idea, even a little weird and creepy, and stayed behind at my sister's place. I don't even remember what we did that day. I think we might have painted her living room.
Looking back years later, I wish I'd gone with Dad. If for no other reason than it's the kind of thing that gets my blood pumping a bit as a journalist today. I love doing some of those feature stories where you make one connection, then it leads you to another and another, and all of a sudden the bland 500-word story you'd planned to write is a 2,000-word monster with more sources than you could ever use and tons of rich details.
In addition to that, it was a missed opportunity to spend time with him. We grew apart the older I got, and he died a few years after that. I can't help but think that would have been a wonderful memory of him, having shared that experience, in contrast to a lot of other bad memories of him from when I was growing up.

 

When I did the Ted Trent piece a few months ago, I had that experience. Exchanged info with Posnanski and other historians. The journey was as exciting as the story itself.

 

Who?

 

My bad.

 

Having also seen it roughly 350 times, it has never stopped bothering me at least a little that they had Joe Jackson bat righty.

 

"When did these ballplayers get here?"

 

"Hey, I've got an idea! Let's entrust our family's home and financial future to the suggestion of a concussed 9-year-old who just survived a near-death experience!"

 

I had a shitty dad who served prison time for molesting children and a nagging, alcoholic wife who doubted my every move.

Perhaps that explains my dislike for Field of Dreams.

 

Same here. Ray going back in time to see Moonlight Gtaham and using The Godfather on the marquee to establish the year instead of the two talking about the last World Series pisses me off.

The book was so much better.

WP Kinsella has a thing for petite women with freckles.

 

So much for my uplifting, inspiring experience. Sheesh.

 

EVERYTHING YOU HOLD NEAR AND DEAR IS SHIT EAT ARBY'S