By Jalen Maki
“If you build it, he will come.”
If Ray Kinsella, Kevin Costner’s character in the stellar 1991 sports fantasy drama Field of Dreams, was even semi-normal, he would’ve been on a dead sprint back to his house the second he started hearing otherworldly whispers in his cornfield. Thank god he handled the situation in a weirdly chill manner, because if he’d have called a priest instead, the events of the movie probably never would’ve happened, and we’d be bereft of one of the most unique and touching sports movies ever made.
Field of Dreams focuses on Ray, a family man and die-hard baseball fan grappling with his difficult relationship with his late, former-ballplayer dad, John. Baseball was the one thing the two could see eye-to-eye on, but Ray, a child of the ‘60s, resented his father for “getting old,” left home after a falling out, and never got the chance to make amends before his father’s death.
One night, Ray is walking in the cornfield on his Iowa farm when he hears a voice say “If you build it, he will come.” Ray’s understandably baffled, but after concluding that the voice is telling him to build a baseball field, he levels a portion of his crop and, with the support of his wife, Annie, follows the instructions he was given.
Let me just go on record here and say that if I were moseying around in my crops and a voice said literally anything to me, let alone tried to coax me into constructing an athletic field, the only thing I’d be “building” would be the courage to tell my wife that we have to pack up and move immediately because our farm is haunted by the spirit of Tim “The Tool Man” Taylor.
Ok, back to the movie. In the months after the field is finished, Ray waits for the aforementioned “he” to arrive, but nothing happens, to his disappointment. Finally, on one summer night, his daughter, Karen, spots a man outside. Ray, ever the optimist, doesn’t call the police or grab some sort of weapon (you’d think the guy’s got an old Louisville Slugger lying around somewhere) – he just heads out there to See What’s Up. And What’s Up is the legendary “Shoeless” Joe Jackson (played by the late, great Ray Liotta) poking around on the diamond. Oddly, the only person more shocked at this scenario than Ray is Joe. Joe doesn’t understand where he is exactly, but he knows why he’s there. After being part of the infamous Black Sox, the Chicago White Sox team accused of throwing the 1919 World Series, Joe and seven of his teammates were banned from pro ball for life. But now, he’s back where he belongs – the baseball field. Ray hits Joe some fly balls, throws him a little BP, and all is great. The next day, some of Joe’s old teammates show up from out of Ray’s cornfield, and eventually former players from other teams are playing as Ray, Annie, and Karen watch the games.
Later on, the voice gives Ray another task: “Ease his pain.” Ray believes that the voice is talking about Terrance Mann (James Earl Jones), a now-reclusive Civil Rights-era author and activist. Terrance once wrote a fictional character named John Kinsella – Ray’s father’s name – and he also once said during an interview that as a kid, he’d dreamed of one day playing for his beloved Brooklyn Dodgers. This convinces Ray to trust his instincts, which are telling him that he has to take Terrance, who lives in Boston, to a Red Sox game. Ray tracks Terrance down at his apartment, and in a fantastic scene, convinces Terrance to accompany him to Fenway Park.
A quick tangent: This is a movie where the ghosts of baseballers past emerge from a cornfield to get some innings in; the filmmakers obviously took a few liberties with the laws of our objective reality. But the most unbelievable thing in this movie happens not on Ray’s ballfield, but at Fenway, where Ray and Terrance buy two hot dogs and two beers for seven (7) dollars. I implore you to go to a professional sporting event and see what seven bucks gets you. If you’re lucky, the concessions guy might toss you a handful of loose Cracker Jacks.
Anyway, the events that follow the Red Sox game are Pure Cinema Magic, folks. Sure, baseball is at the center of Field of Dreams, but the film is really about life; how everyone has hopes, triumphs and failures, and how sometimes, you don’t know that the most important moment of your life is happening until it brushes past you like a stranger in a crowd. Several characters, including Ray and Terrance, are struggling with past regrets – wrongs they wish they could right and days they wish they’d seized. Ray’s field gives them a second chance. Does it matter how, or why? I don’t think so. The great thing about Field of Dreams is that it doesn’t stop to ponder these questions. It simply is what it is, and it asks the audience to buy in, just like the field itself does. Only those who have faith in the mysterious workings of the field can see the players, and those who hold some sort of belief in the notions of forgiveness and redemption – and the spiritual power of baseball – are able feel the film’s full emotional impact.
There’s a case to be made that the lessons at the heart of the film could’ve been conveyed through another medium – cribbage, water polo, interpretative dance, etc. But those things simply lack the magic that baseball possesses in abundance. There’s something about the game – its simplicity, its timelessness, its mythical history and legacy – that stretches across generations and can help people overcome their individual differences. Baseball connects us to our past, and it will endure, which is a comforting idea. Maybe someday soon, you’ll turn on the radio, and you’ll hear Bob Uecker calling a Brewer game, just like you had countless times before. And years from now, you’ll tune in again, and this time you’ll say to your grandchild, “I remember when Bob Uecker called Brewer games.” Sure, it’s just an offhand observation, but your grandchild might remember it, and maybe someday they’ll tell their own grandchild how you, so long ago, were lucky enough to listen to Mr. Baseball himself on so many summer afternoons. And your memory will live on, even if it’s just in that small, passing moment, because of the game of baseball. There’s a beautiful hopefulness in that.
It is wild that Field of Dreams worked. On paper, it’s completely ludicrous – I felt insane just typing the summary. But what is truly preposterous is how moving the final 20-or-so minutes are. Some people might scoff at the sheer unabashed corniness of it all, and I will tell you, you do not need that kind of negativity in your life. Sometimes we need to be reminded that there are some forces for good in the world, and second chances are possible. I like to believe those things are true everywhere – even in heaven, and Iowa.
Jalen’s columns, “Movies You Gotta See” and “The Free Play,” can be found online at www.medium.com/@jalenmaki.