If you bike there, it will come

Galena, Illinois to Dyersville, Iowa. Sunday, July 4, 2021

I’m not really that much of a baseball fan. I blame it on my hometown team, the Washington Senators, not the once-good Senators that were sold to Minnesota in 1960, but the expansion Senators that stayed with us for only 11 years, and only once had a winning season, when they finished in fourth place. I went to a number of games in DC (now RFK) Stadium, mostly bored at the slowness of the play, bewildered by the intricacies of filling out the scorecard, and occasionally dazzled by their two superstars, Frank Howard and Ed Stroud.

Heading off to college in Boston, the Red Sox were more fun, but they never really felt like my hometown team, and they never won a World Series while I was there.

So I can’t explain why I was so compelled to go to the Field of Dreams, the site of the 1989 movie, which was a sleeper hit, even though it won no Oscars. It was a fantasy where an Iowa corn farmer hears a voice, “If you build it, he will come” and is inspired to plow under much of his acreage to make a ball field, in hopes of bringing Shoeless Joe Jackson back to life. He succeeds, and hears other voices urging him to kidnap a JD Salinger-like recluse, and find an obscure ball player Moonlight Graham, who played only one inning in the majors and never came to bat. It’s a crazy, twisted plot that makes no sense, until it does. The site has been preserved these 32 years, and is a major tourist attraction.

My BFF Brian is an ardent baseball fan, whose well-thumbed 50 year old copy of the Baseball Encyclopedia is the source of many emails, taken up by my other friends in the PHSIDARUTT group, in countless back-and-forth comments about great players and great plays, past and present. I listen politely but rarely get involved. As I said, baseball doesn’t really mean that much to me.

So why did I feel so compelled to go? It was kind of on the way, but not really, and I am not a fan of big tourist traps. Finally released from the shackles of the Charles Mound limited-access dates, I really felt the need to put in some miles, and get my butt out west. 2 1/2 months, 3400 miles, and I was still at the Mississippi. Let’s get going, and keep the distractions to a minimum.

And yet, the Field had a magnetic pull for me. I was as bewildered as that farmer, hearing that voice. You’ll recall in my “Tangled up in Blue” post, I sought out Moonlight Graham, who became beloved town doctor Archibald Graham, in Chisholm MN (played by the great Burt Lancaster, in his last role). I purchased the movie and watched most of it in my tent. I had to go. Maybe I’d find out why when I got there.

Getting there wasn’t so easy. I was still in the Driftless Region, which means endless hills, in 90° heat. Crossing the Mississippi for the final time was arduous, on a narrow walkway by a busy highway bridge.

A nice stone-dust bike path, the Heritage Trail, provided some respite from the heat as it climbed slowly out of the river valley, but I had to stop frequently for sodas, or “pop” as they call out here. I know, I know, I had some fruit, too. I was threatened by a Rottweiler and another dog that held me up for 15 minutes as I slowly walked by their houses and talked them down, surprised that no one came out, and that this could occur so close to a tourist attraction. It was my first dog encounter in almost 2 months, but these things always rattle me.

Suddenly I saw ballpark lights poking out of the rural landscape, and I was there. For a few minutes, I had the place to myself, later joined by only a handful of others. It was 7PM. I missed the fireworks on this 245th Fourth of July, but this was a better celebration.

In the background of that last picture, sitting alone on the bleacher, was Jim from Texas, who had been there for six hours. He said the place was mobbed in the middle of the afternoon. I was glad I had come in the evening, when the place had a mystical quality. It’s open all year from sunrise to sunset, no admission fee, although they invite donations.

I was overcome with emotion in spite of myself. I tried to watch the last half hour of the movie on my iPad, but even in the early evening the light was too bright. I wound up finishing it over dinner. I saw what I had forgotten, that the movie is not really about baseball, but about reconnecting with your father. See my previous and future posts.

I had to bike there for it to come to me.

Distance 45 miles, 3,448 total. Time 8 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,942 feet.

©️ 2021 Scott Luria