Field of Dreams

My father's name was John Kinsella.

It's an lrish name.

He was born in North Dakota in 1896

and never saw a big city until he came back from France in 1918.

Settling in Chicago, he learned to live and die

with the White Sox.

Died a little when they lost the 1919 World Series,

died a lot when eight White Sox were accused of throwing that Series.

He played some in the minors, but nothing came of it.

Moved to Brooklyn in '35, married Mom in '38,

was already an old man at the naval yards

when I was born in 1952.

My name's Ray Kinsella.

Mom died when I was three, and I suppose Dad did the best he could.

Instead of Mother Goose, I was put to bed to stories of Babe Ruth,

Lou Gehrig, and the great Shoeless Joe Jackson.

Dad was a Yankees fan then, so I rooted for Brooklyn.

In '58, the Dodgers moved away, so we had to find other reasons to fight.

We did.

When I chose a college,

I picked the farthest from home I could find.

This drove him up the wall, which, I suppose, was the point.

Officially, my major was English, but really, it was the '60s.

I marched, I smoked some grass,

I tried to like sitar music, and I met Annie.

The only thing we had in common

was that she came from Iowa, and I'd once heard of lowa.

After graduation, we moved to the Midwest

and stayed with her family as long as we could,

almost a full afternoon.

Annie and I got married in June of '74.

Dad died that fall.

A few years later, Karin was born.

She smelled weird, but we loved her anyway.

Then Annie got the crazy idea she could talk me into buying a farm.

I'm 36 years old, I love my family,

I love baseball, and I'm about to become a farmer.

But until I heard the voice,

I'd never done a crazy thing in my whole life.

If you build it, he will come.

If you build it, he will come.

Hey, Annie!

Annie, what was that?

What was what?

That voice just now. What was it?

We didn't hear anything.

All right.

If you build it, he will come.

Okay, you must have heard that!

Sorry. Hey, come on in to dinner.

Let's go, pumpkin.

Is there, like, a sound truck on the highway?

Nope. Hey, Karin, dinner's ready!

Kids with a radio?

Nope.

Hey, are you really hearing voices?

Just one.

What did it say?

"If you build it, he will come."

if you build what, who will come?

He didn't say.

I hate it when that happens.

Me, too.

If you build it, he will come.

Build what? What is this?

Ray?

It's okay, honey. I... I'm just talking to the cornfield.

Anyway, I was walking down along the street,

and I heard this voice saying,

"Good evening, Mr. Dowd."

Well, I turned around,

and here was this big, six-foot rabbit leaning up against the lamppost.

Why did you do that? It was funny.

Trust me, Karin. It's not funny.

The man is sick. Very sick.

Karin, honey, get your book bag. Let's go!

Hon, I'll take her today.

I've got errands to do in town.

Far out.

Hey. What if the voice calls while you're gone?

Take a message.

Bye.

Bye.

In all those years, did you ever...

it's just I've heard that sometimes farmers in the field...

They hear things. You know, voices.

You hearing voices?

No. it's just I heard some farmers do.

I, of course, don't, so I was wondering if I was doing something wrong.

Did you... Did you ever hear voices out there?

Who's hearing voices?

Ray is.

Out in the fields. No, I'm not.

I'm...

Noises. That darned tractor...

I'm just going to get some 3-in-1 oil. That ought to do it.

It was nice... Nice talking to you.

If you build it, he will come.

All right, that's it! Huh? Who the...

Who are you, huh? What do you want from me?

Son of a...

if you build it, he will come.

If you build it...

if you build it,

he will come.

You don't suppose this is like an acid flashback, do you?

I never took acid.

Maybe you will someday. It's like a flash-forward.

Annie, there's more.

Honey, why don't you eat a little bit?

I... I think I know what "if you build it, he will come" means.

Why do I not think this is so good?

I think it means that if I build a baseball field out there,

Shoeless Joe Jackson will get to come back and play ball again.

You're kidding?

Uh-uh.

Wow.

Yeah.

You're kidding.

Boy, I thought my family was crazy, but this is the craziest thing ever.

I know. it's totally nuts. I mean, Shoeless Joe!

He's dead. Died in '51. He's dead.

They suspended him, right?

Right.

He's still dead?

As far as I know.

Did you know Babe Ruth copied his swing?

If I did, I've forgotten it.

He was supposed to be so graceful and agile.

I'd actually like to see him play again,

to let him play, to right an old wrong.

Wait. Wait a minute, Bosco.

Are you actually thinking of doing this?

No.

I mean, I can't think of one good reason why I should, but...

I'm 36. I have a wife, a child, and a mortgage,

and I'm scared to death I'm turning into my father.

What's your father got to do with all of this?

I never forgave him for getting old.

By the time he was as old as I am now, he was ancient.

I mean, he must have had dreams, but he never did anything about them.

For all I know, he may have even heard voices, too,

but he sure didn't listen to them.

The man never did one spontaneous thing in all the years I knew him.

Annie, I'm afraid of that happening to me,

and something tells me this may be my last chance to do something about it.

I want to build that field.

Do you think I'm crazy?

Yes.

But I also think if you really feel you should do this,

then you should do it.

What the hell is he doing?

He's plowing under his corn.

Why?

Ty Cobb called him the greatest left fielder of all time.

He said his glove was the place where triples go to die.

- Could he hit? - Could he hit?

Lifetime average .356, third highest in history.

Why'd they call him Shoeless Joe?

When he was still in the minors,

he bought a new pair of spikes and hurt his feet.

In the sixth inning, he took them off and played in his socks.

The players kidded him,

called him "Shoeless Joe," and the name stuck.

He's going to lose his farm.

Damned fool.

Then in 1919, his team, the Chicago White Sox,

they threw the World Series.

What's "threw"?

It means they lost on purpose.

Gamblers paid them to. Except Shoeless Joe.

He did take their money,

but nobody ever proved he did one thing to lose those games.

If he threw it,

how do you explain he hit .375 for the Series and committed no errors?

I can't.

Twelve hits including the Series' only home run,

and they said he's trying to lose?

It's ridiculous.

The commissioner of baseball suspended eight of the players,

including the great Shoeless Joe Jackson, for life.

What's "suspend"?

It means they never let him play the game again.

My father said he saw him years later

playing under a made-up name in some 10th-rate league in Carolina.

He'd put on 50 pounds, and his spring was gone from his step

but he could still hit.

Dad used to say nobody could hit like Shoeless Joe.

I think that's the first time I've ever seen you smile

when you mentioned your father.

Well...

I have just created something totally illogical.

That's what I like about it.

Am I completely nuts?

Not completely.

It's a good baseball field, Ray.

It's kind of pretty, isn't it?

Mmm-hmm.

Any sign?

Something's going to happen out there.