Field of Dreams

You know we just don’t recognize the most significant moments of our lives while they’re happening. Back then I thought, well, there’ll be other days. I didn’t realize that that was the only day.

My blog is heavily influenced by baseball as my life has been profoundly influenced by our National pastime. The appeal of baseball to me is that which everyone typically despises about the game. Unlike basketball or hockey or even football, baseball is timeless. It’s not restricted by quarters or halves, minutes or seconds. Every game is nine innings and 27 outs (unless you’re lucky enough to go into extra frames). I hate hearing people say they’re trying to speed up the game because it’s ‘too slow’. Where are you trying to go when you go to a baseball game? Sit back, relax, and let yourself be entertained. Talk with your family and friends between innings. That’s part of the beauty of baseball: you’re supposed to interact with the people who you’re with. You don’t have to be glued to the game like you do with fast-paced sports. It’s a stroll, not a sprint. If I could spend all day at the ballpark, 8 AM to 10 PM, I’d be happier than a clam. Just sit in the stands and look at some of the finest grass in the world, dirt so clean you could eat off of it, all contrasted by the glow of the white bases and pristine uniforms the players sport.
“Field of Dreams” has best put to film how I feel about baseball and I just wanted to, hopefully, help put into context one of the more important aspects of my life. I can’t really describe my emotions towards baseball, it’s like trying to describe infinity. James Earl Jones had one of the best monologues in film history though, and I think it’s the closest that anyone, including myself, has come to describing how I feel about this game.

Of course, we won’t mind if you look around, you’ll say. It’s only $20 per person. They’ll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they’ll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They’ll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they’ll watch the game and it’ll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they’ll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh… people will come Ray. People will most definitely come.

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