Cubs Wrigley Field, Chicago, IL
Little League Baseball, Emporia, KS
We’ll celebrate our parents
individually in the next thirty days, along with the beginning of baseball
season. The game of baseball has long
been celebrated as America’s pastime, but as with all things, there are many
other activities that occupy the present generation. My father directly had a hand (and an arm) in
teaching me the game, but in retrospect my mother drove me to practices and
games when my father worked random shifts on the Santa Fe railroad. One of them never missed a game.
As a young man
playing baseball, my father was scouted by the St. Louis Cardinals and he was offered
a low paying position at shortstop on their farm club. He decided to abandon the dream and stay at
home to help the family. That major
decision in my father’s life quite probably resulted in our family’s creation. I was emotionally struck by the parallel life-changing
decisions of my dad and Archie “Doc” Graham, played by Bert Lancaster in his
final film, Field of Dreams. One
critic’s consensus of the movie is “sentimental, but in the best way, a mix of
fairy tale, baseball and family togetherness.”
Archie gives up his baseball dream for a medical career, helping
countless others including children.
Ray Kinsella is
a struggling Iowa corn farmer who hears a voice saying “If you build it, he
will come.” Both Ray’s father and mine
seemed to live vicariously through their sons on the baseball field, and both
sons sought other paths. It was only
later in life that they understood that connection they had severed in their
search for independence, which is the end goal of all good parenting. And it was only at the end of the movie that
Ray realized the voice was referring to his deceased father.
Ray’s wife Annie supported his
crazy dream to plow up part of their life-supporting corn field to build a
baseball diamond in the middle of nowhere.
As the banned ghost players of the Chicago Black Sox emerged from the
corn field onto the baseball diamond, they asked “Is this heaven?” Ray simply replied “No, it’s Iowa.” He later concluded that it was heaven, a
place where there is no more fear, tears or shaming, but a place where families
can enjoy togetherness. I can still
remember watching The Game of the Week at Wrigley Field on a black and white
television with my grandfather as Dizzy Dean made the calls.
And like the movie Field of Dreams,
some of the best times involved the simple act of playing catch in the
backyard. It’s a very human act of I-give-to-you and you-give-back
connectedness, many times discussing something about life and many times in
serene silence, with just the sound of the rawhide ball hitting the leather
glove. The final act of redemption in the movie unfortunately doesn’t happen
all too often in real life. The prodigal son gets a second chance to say, “Hey
dad, you wanna have a catch?” And his dad replies, “I’d like that.”
Ray and I didn’t have sons but we passed along our love for the
game to our daughters. And a game of
catch between a parent and child is priceless.
I know she and my son-in-law are passing the torch of athletic games on
to my grandson and we’ll all soon enjoy a Cubs baseball game together in
Chicago!
