I never really planned to write a book about the Field of Dreams movie site.
I liked the film Field of Dreams and, like many, cried at the ending. But I
like a lot of films, and I am an easy mark for a weepy movie . Nothing
about the film or my fondness for it would have suggested that, some day, I
would write about Field of Dreams and how it has inspired a pilgrimage to
the still-surviving movie site.
But, much as Ray Kinsella heard that voice in film, I had a calling. For
me, it was nothng mystical. The voice that came to me was the voice of an
agent on the phone. Ray Kinsella heard, "If you build it, he will come." I
heard a less ethereal offer to explore the idea of a book about the Field of
Dreams movie site near Dyersville, Iowa, and how it had become a pop culture
mecca. That was 1996.
I liked the idea and began my exploration of the phenomena surrounding
Dyersville's unique attraction. I worked for a number of months conducting
research, creating a book proposal, and putting together some writing. In
essence, I suggested that my book would try to explain why people from all
over the world were traveling to Dyersville to visit a former movie set and
why they were not just going there to take pictures but were visiting in
search of a setting for some deeply personal emotional experiences.
We pitched the idea and received some positive responses, but no publisher
offered to fund the project. Just as Ray Kinsella spent many nights looking
at the field he created waiting for something to happen, I dashed to the
mailbox and jumped when the phone rang, hoping I would receive good news
about the book proposal. "Shoeless" Joe Jackson appeared for Ray, but I
received no positive news. So the Field of Dreams book files were packed
away, and I moved on to other projects. I thought a lot about Dyersville's
attraction but considered the matter closed.
In 2000, like a voice from out of the corn, a fellow author called and asked
whether I would share the idea for the book about the Field of Dreams with
his publisher. Suddenly, the project was moving forward again.
I did much of my research for the project over the phone and in libraries in
1996. In 2000, I was able to find a wealth of information by using the
Internet. But, of course, the only way to truly explore whether there is
magic in the Dyersville corn was to hit the road. More than three years
after I had decided I would never get a chance to tell the story, I found
myself standing on the Field of Dreams, laughing at myslef for the silly
grin I sported, feeling as if I had stepped through the looking glass and
into something uniquely charmed.
I have been fortunate enough in my life to have visited significant sites
across the globe and have walked in famous footsteps of biblical figures and
historical luminaries. I have stood on ground considered holy and have
pondered events that canged the world within the walls where they occurred.
I cannot say that my visit to the Field of Dreams could generate the same
chills I felt watching the pious in Rome or Jerusalem or thinking about the
tremendous events that transpired in Independence Hall or at Gettysburg.
That said, there was something very special about standing on the Field of
Dreams. It did not take much imagination at all to believe that I was not
just at the place where Field of Dreams was filmed, but I was actually part
of an ongoing story that simply included the chapter told by Hollywood.
I spent my time in Dyersville throwing batting practice, swinging for the
corn, meeting visitors, and talking to people whose lives had been changed
by the field. During my months of research, I consulted scholarly tomes and
entertainment magazines. I viewed Field of Dreams and watched videos about
people who traveld to Dyersville. I spoke to movie stars and major leaguers
and interviewed dozens of people for whom the Field of Dreams is much more
than just a tourist attraction.
Putting the book together was both fun and moving. I nearly took the head
off a little leaguer when I lined his batting practice pitch back up the
middle. I grooved a fat pitch to a middle-aged man who hit one into the corn
and then whooped around the bases in triumph. I wiped tears from my eyes as
I ran up my long-distance bills listening to people describe what the Field
of Dreams meant to them.
I had a great time in Dyersville and really enjoyed learning some of the
behind-the-scenes stories about the filming of Field of Dreams and the
goings-on at the Field of Dreams. I was touched by the people who opened up
to me and shared some very personal stories. A few had to pause to keep
from choking up while talking. Some cried as they spoke.
The tale of the continuing pilgrimage to the Field of Dreams is more than
just a tale of camera-toting tourists or souvenir-seeking movie buffs. It
is the tale of people who seek something signifcant in a world that often
denies the spiritual, of people who seek ways to communicate powerful
emotions, and of people who visit a baseball field, not for batting practice
but for redemption.
I am glad that I had a chance to tell this story.
