One year later, baseball heaven is here

We ease off US-20 and head north onto Jamesmeier Road. An emotional test waits over the hilly horizon. Upon seeing the wooden light posts, the spartan backstop, the white picket fence, will we have a smile on our face -- or a lump in our throat?

Whether this is our first trip to the Field of Dreams, or we’ve made the pilgrimage countless times, goosebumps are our constant companion.

This is a place of Americana and universality, anticipation and nostalgia. Here, existing in the moment demands that we give in to the memories welling within our eyes.

The Lansing Family Farm was founded in 1906. The Academy Award-nominated movie was filmed here in 1988. Yet there’s never been a time when these 193 acres have mattered more than on Aug. 12, 2021.

As our minds wandered over the past year, we yearned for reconnection to once-familiar experiences that became unattainable.

‘I don’t need Game 7 of the World Series with 55,000 fans,’ we told ourselves. ‘I’d just love to see a ballgame with a few friends.’

‘I miss my dad so much,’ we said, with heavy hearts. ‘I would give anything to see him in person, talk baseball, maybe have a catch.’

Now we’re here. Finally.

The MLB at "Field of Dreams" game has arrived -- delayed one year by the pandemic, infused with more gratitude than we could have imagined.

Here, the White Sox and Yankees play what might be the first game at the Field of Dreams with nine per side -- and formal rules -- since Ray Liotta’s “Shoeless” Joe Jackson stepped out of an Iowa cornfield and into the American consciousness. We’ve gathered at a place built on faith, with hopes of healing but no guarantee -- a chalk-lined canvas onto which we project our own aspirations and insecurities.

Just as the film’s ghost players represented various 20th century teams, a glimpse of Thursday’s game is an opportunity for us to fall in love with characters new and old. As alluring as the two American League powerhouses are, we’re called here by more than the chance to watch José Abreu and Aaron Judge. The mysticism around us provides license to contemplate the magnetism of Fernando Tatís Jr., the transcendence of Jacob deGrom, the otherworldliness of Shohei Ohtani, as if their figures might emerge from the stalks at any instant.

In the film, a character’s belief shapes what one sees when gazing upon the field. More than three decades later, as the site hosts Iowa’s first Major League Baseball game, the landmark remains open to interpretation.

From a bleacher seat, do we see our past? Or the joy in a simpler future we’ve had time and space to contemplate over the last year?

This is where Hall of Famers -- including native Iowan Bob Feller -- have been drawn for years. This is where Kevin Costner played catch with fans at the 25th anniversary celebration. This is where today’s precocious talent synchronizes with the sport’s pastoral essence.

And this is where, on one May morning, a busload of middle schoolers arrived from Galena, Ill., for a respite from their school year of unprecedented complexity. As the kids played -- no innings, no uniforms, no pressure -- a father sat with his adult son at a nearby picnic table, having traveled from out of state to reminisce and play catch.

Here, the ideals of patience, courtesy and community remain undefeated. The movie field is open from dawn until dusk. Among fellow travelers, you hear sentences like, ‘Oh, no, you were here first. Please, go ahead and take a few swings.’ A “Moonlight” Graham moment is possible for us all, in a setting that looks much as it did when Burt Lancaster stepped from fantasy to reality.

Well, there is one notable addition: a Major League Baseball field, created from nearly 20 acres of farmland, at the end of a short walking path from where the movie was filmed.

Certainly, there is no field -- or fence -- of its kind anywhere else. While taking measure of the outfield, you might notice the vertical support posts set back into the corn … or, more accurately, you won’t. The effect of the offset design is that, from the seating area, the cornstalks themselves appear to be the barrier.

And do you see the center-field bullpens? They’re a tribute to Chicago’s original Comiskey Park -- onetime home of the host White Sox and “Shoeless” Joe himself.

For this event, the eyes of the baseball world are set upon a state known as the crossroads of multiple MLB fanbases -- most prominently the White Sox, Cubs, Cardinals, Royals, Brewers and Twins. We’re about to witness a game for which a weather-related metric other than temperature must be considered: the influence of “corn sweat,” the local description for the phenomenon of evapotranspiration, whereby moisture escaping from plant leaves can accelerate the humidity.

There’s even a global connectedness within the homespun venue: When the second edition of the MLB London Series was postponed last year, the spirit of the event survived. The home plate, bat boxes, dugout benches, backstop netting and grounds crew equipment made the trip back across the Atlantic and have arrived in Dyersville, Iowa.

This isn’t an occasion to dwell on past opportunities missed or feel daunted by the work that remains before us. Rather, the hope we experience here can be the magic waters Terence Mann foretold in his stirring monologue. Far from wondering why we’re here, the greater challenge is to think of a time when this cornfield -- and all it represents -- has been more germane to the American cultural experience.

As we emerge, hopeful, from the hardships of the past 17 months, the rhythms and rituals of baseball are our trusted confidantes. To appreciate our national pastime together is the dream we share. What was once erased like a blackboard has been rebuilt anew.