HAUNTED BY A FIELD OF DREAMS

     Francesca and I watched "Field of Dreams" this week.  We

had not seen it since it came out in '89. Most of you know it as a movie about baseball, fantasies, and regret. The main character, played by Kevin Costner, wishes he had reconciled with his father before he died.

     Burt Lancaster is "Archie "Moonlight" Graham", who -as a minor league baseball player- came "this close" to playing in a major league game.

He dreams of going back in time to do that and like several of the movie's characters, he is finally able to experience his fantasy in an Iowa corn field.

     Burt's character got to me. In the 60's I was  a skinny, average athlete with a football dream. I joined my high school's team hoping to make me and my family proud. 

   It didn't happen.

   I "rode the bench" for three miserable years. The coach refused to put me in games even when we were thirty points ahead. I recall standing next to him in the last minutes of the last game. I looked at him and thought, "Please coach, put me in. It's my last chance!".

 

The Mighty T-Breds of yore. The four tackling dummies (right) wear blank practice jerseys

      

     For ten years afterwards I had a re-occurring dream, going back to a Hialeah High School game as a grown man. Coach Powell is excited to see me as he says, "Glenn, we need you. Put on a uniform so you can help us tonight". In reality, the coach never spoke to me. He didn't even know my name.

      As the dream continues I suit-up, have some moments of virtual glory then awaken from the damn thing, upset.  That warped, midnight scenario went on for years. By my late twenties I 'd had enough, I began to write about my creepy dream and all that had led to it.

       It started in middle school when my older brother and I worshiped high school football. We'd go to games and watch hefty teenage gladiators duke it out. I believed that to be successful in high school I had to become one of them.

 Ted (88) played in four Super Bowls. Me (below him), umm...none.

     On the first day of football practice Coach Powell introduced us to the sport by saying, "This is the game that separates the men from the boys. You are here today and if you are a man, you will still be here three years from now".

      I believed him and submitted to being one of his tackling dummies for the the next 1000 days. I persevered to a foolish extreme. I don't recall anyone suggesting an alternative. If they did, I didn't listen. 

I'd put up with anything to prove my manhood.

    

    As my reflections continued I wrote about lessons I could learn and came up with,  

A) Always question authority                                                      B) Don't let others set your goals                                               C) If you like team sports, choose one where you actually get to participate (for me it was high school tennis, college intramural sports, and now old guys' softball.                                                                                       D)To hell with telepathy, let people know what you want, and  

E)  Be yourself, you can do many things that most jocks can not.                                                                                        

Yes, ol' Coach Powell could have been up front with me but that was more his problem than mine.

    After thinking about this things for a week the dreams ended.

    At the time I was a lawyer in a dark suit. After intense self-examination Attorney Terry shut down his office, moved to California and tried his hand in the film business. No, I didn't score any touchdowns there either but I wrote sample scripts, had a tiny TV show, and played a zombie in "Demonoid". In short, I started to become who I was meant to be, an artist, a father, a teacher, and a flying pig parade producer.

    Costner's movie ends when he tearfully reconciles with his long-dead dad.

They share some words and a heart-warming game of catch.

    I don't need time travel to make peace with my bench warming days. I know how I got there and figured out how to move on.

  This morning I'll be playing center field in a senior league softball game. The cherry on top? My occasional meet-ups with my two beautiful sons. They often end with a game of catch. 

                              _______________________