My father's name was John Kinsella. It's an Irish name.
He was born in North Dakota in 1896...
...and neversaw a big city...
...until he came back from France in 1918.
He settled in Chicago, where he learned to live and die with the White Sox.
Died a little when they lost the 1919 World Series...
...died a lot the following summer when eight teammates...
...were accused of throwing that Series.
He played some in the minors, but nothing came ofit.
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 3, 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.
Butin '58, the Dodgers moved away, so we had to find other reasons to fight.
We did.
When it came time to go to 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 metAnnie.
The only thing we had in common was thatshe came from lowa...
...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 thatshe 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...
...l'd never done a crazy thing in my whole life.
Lfyou 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.
Lfyou build it, he will come.
- Okay, you must have heard that! - Sorry.
Hey, come on in to dinner.
Let's go, pumpkin.
Is there a sound truck on the highway?
Nope. Hey, Karin, dinner's ready!
- Kids with a radio? - Nope.
- Are you really hearing voices? - Just one.
What did it say?
"If you build it, he will come."
- Lf you build what, who will come? - He didn't say.
- I hate it when that happens. - Me, too.
Lfyou build it, he will come.
Build what? What is this?
It's okay, honey.
I'm just talking to the corn field.
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. It's not funny.
The man is sick. Very sick.
Honey, get your book bag. Let's go!
I'll take her today. I've got some errands to do in town.
Far-out.
- What if the voice calls while you're gone? - Take a message.
- 'Bye. - '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 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-1oil. That ought to do it.
Nice talking to you.
Lfyou build it, he will come.
All right, that's it! Who the...
Who are you? What do you want from me?
Son of a bitch.
Lfyou build it, he will come.
If you build it...
...he will come.
You don't suppose this is like an acid flashback?
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 think I know what "If you build it, he will come" means.
Why do I not think this is such a good thing?
I think it means that if I build a baseball field out there...
...Shoeless Joe Jackson will come back and play ball again.
You're kidding?
You're kidding.
Boy, I thought my family was crazy...
...but this is the craziest thing I've ever heard.
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.
- Are you actually thinking of doing this? - No.
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 does he have to do with all this?
I never forgave him for getting old.
By the time he was as old as I am now...
...he was ancient.
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.
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 in the minors...
...he bought a new pair of spikes and hurt his feet.
In the 6th 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...
...threw the World Series.
- What's "threw"? - It means they lostit on purpose.
Gamblers paid them to.
Except Shoeless Joe.
He did take their money, but nobody everproved he did one thing...
...to lose those games.
If he threw it, how do you explain that 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, forlife.
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.
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?
Any sign?
Something's going to happen out there.
I can feel it.
So, for the veteran southpaw, his summer of woes continues.
That's fourstraight hits in the inning.
Daddy, what's a "southpaw"?
It means a left-handed pitcher, honey.
- So how bad is it? - Well.
Considering how much less acreage we have for corn, I say we'll probably...
...almost break even.
We used up all our savings on that field.
- Daddy? - Just a minute, Karin.
So what are you saying? We can't keep the field?
Makes it real hard to keep the farm.
- Daddy. - In a minute, Karin!
There's a man out there on your lawn.
I'll put up some coffee. Why don't you go on outside?
Sorry.
I'll get some out there.
Hi.
Ray Kinsella.
Joe Jackson.
I bet it's good to be playing again.
Getting thrown out of baseball...
...was like having part of me amputated.
I've heard that old men wake up...
...and scratch itchy legs that have been dust for over 50 years.
That was me.
I'd wake up at night...
...with the smell of the ballpark in my nose...
...with the cool of the grass on my feet...
...the thrill of the grass.
Can you pitch?
Yeah.
Not bad.
- Don't we need a catcher? - Not if you get it near the plate.
Right.
I'm pitching to Shoeless Joe Jackson.
Nice hit.
See if you can hit my curve.
- You can hit the curve ball. - Put one right here.
Right.
Right, you're a low-ball hitter.
Man, I did love this game.
I'd have played for food money.
It was the game, the sounds, the smells.
Did you ever hold a ball or a glove to your face?
Yeah.
I used to love traveling on the trains from town to town.
The hotels, brass spittoons in the lobbies...
...brass beds in the rooms.
It was the crowd...
...rising to their feet when the ball was hit deep.
I'd play for nothing.
It's my family.
What's with the lights?
All the stadiums have them now.
- Even Wrigley Field. - It's harder to see the ball.
The owners found that more people can attend night games.
Owners.
Mr. Jackson, this is my wife Annie and my daughter Karin.
Ma'am.
Are you a ghost?
- She's kidding. - That's okay.
- What do you think? - You look real to me.
Then I guess I'm real.
Would you like to come inside?
Thanks. I don't think I can.
Can I come back again?
Yeah. I built this for you.
There are others, you know.
There were eight of us. It would really mean a lot to them.
Yeah. Anytime. They're all welcome here.
Is this heaven?
No.
It's lowa.
- Where's he going? - I don't know.
We're keeping this field.
You bet your ass we are.
- You're going to lose your farm, pal. - How can you lose something so big?
- He misplaced the house once. - Yeah, but it turned up two days later.
Come on. Ray?
This stupid baseball field will bankrupt you. Everybody knows it.
If you default on your loan, you'll lose everything.
If you sell now, my partners will give you a fair price.
- Thanks, Mark, but no. - No.
What are you holding onto this place for?
- You never liked lowa. - That's not true.
You never liked farming. It is true. You don't know about farming.
I know a lot about farming. More than you think.
Well, then how could you plow under your major crop?
What's a crop?
- Come on. That is funny. - "What's a crop?"
- Daddy, the baseball game is on. - Excuse us.
Excuse us.
Annie, I don't believe this guy.
I'm trying to bail him out, and he leaves to watch television.
- He used to be so normal. - Yeah.
Hoy! Hoy! Hoy!
All right!
Watch Joe's feet.
A good left fielder knows what pitch is coming.
He can tell from the bat's angle which way the ball's heading.
- Show off! - Stick it in your ear, Gandil.
If you'd have run like that against Detroit, I'd have won 20 games that year!
For Pete's sakes, Cicotte, that was 68 years ago. Give it up!
Hey! You guys want to play ball or what?
- Muscle-bound jerk. - Oh, yeah? At least I got muscles.
- At most, you got muscles. - Come on, asshole! Pitch!
Weaver, be nice.
- Sorry, kid! - It's okay. I don't mind.
- All right, Karin. - Hey, hey, hey!
Mom and everybody are leaving now.
Oh, well, it was... You know. Thanks for coming.
Think about what I said. I'm just trying to help.
I know.
Thought you were watching some game.
It's not really a game. It's more like practice.
There are only eight of them. They can't play a real game.
- Eight of what? - Them.
- Who "them"? - Them them.
- You don't see them? - Karin, honey, what are you watching?
- The baseball men. - Baseball men?
- Do you see the baseball men right now? - Of course, I do.
You really don't see them?
I don't think it's very polite to try to make other people feel stupid.
Mom, wait a minute. Wait a minute.
Dee, wait. You don't see these people?
It's not funny, Annie.
They couldn't see it.
This is really interesting.
Hey, Ray, look at this.
68 years since I wore this uniform, still fits me like a glove.
You must keep in pretty good shape.
Now let's see, I died in '70.
That means I haven't had a cigarette in 18 years.
- You don't smoke, do you? - No.
Karin! Ray! Dinner!
"Ray, dinner."
- All right. - Come on. Let's hit the showers.
See you later.
See you, guys.
"I'm melting! I'm melting!"
Come on, you knucklehead.
That is so cool.
- Ease his pain. - What?
I'm sorry. What? I didn't understand. What?
Ease his pain.
"Ease his pain." What the hell does that mean?
"Ease his pain"? What pain?
All right. Whose pain?
Thanks a lot.
Come on, honey, wash up. We got the PTA meeting after dinner.
They're talking about banning books again.
Really subversive books like The Wizard of Oz, The Diary ofAnne Frank.
- What happened to you? - The voice is back.
Oh, Lord! You don't have to build a football field now, do you?
He said, "Ease his pain."
- Ease whose pain? - I asked him. He wouldn't tell me.
- Shoeless Joe's? - I don't think so.
- One of the other players? - I don't think so.
This is a very nonspecific voice out there, and he's starting to piss me off.
I was having a fun day today. A good day.
Want a fry?
And I say smut and filth like this has no place in our schools.
Fascist. I'd like to ease her pain.
Mrs. Kessinik, that book you're waving about is hardly smut.
It's considered by many critics to be the classic novel about the 1960s.
- It's pornography! - No. The Supreme Court says it's not.
- And it's author, Mr. Mann... - Is sick!
Terence Mann is a Pulitzer Prize winner.
He's widely regarded as the finest satirist of his time.
Yeah, well, I think he's a pervert! Probably a communist, too!
What planet are these people from?
The so-called novels of Terence Mann...
...endorse promiscuity, godlessness...
...the mongrelization of the races, and disrespect to high-ranking officers...
...of the United States Army.
And that's why right-thinking school boards...
...all across the country have been banning this man's s-h-i-t...
...since 1969.
Terence Mann?
You know why he stopped writing books? Because he masturbates.
Excuse me, madam.
Excuse me.
Terence Mann was a warm and gentle voice of reason...
...during a time of great madness.
He coined the phrase, "Make love, not war."
While other people chanted, "Burn, baby, burn," he was talking about love...
...and peace and understanding.
I cherished every one of his books, and I dearly wish he had written more.
Maybe if you had experienced even a little bit of the '60s...
...you might feel the same way, too.
I experienced the '60s.
No, you had two '50s and moved right into the '70s.
Annie, look at this.
Your husband plowed under his corn and built a baseball field.
- Now, there's an intelligent response. - The weirdo.
- Annie. - Honey, it's all right. I'll be cool.
At least he is not a book-burner, you Nazi cow.
At least I'm not married to the biggest horse's ass in three counties.
All right, Beulah, do you want to step outside?
Fine!
All right, I've got a better idea. Let's take a vote. Who's for Eva Braun?
Who wants to burn books?
Who wants to spit on the Constitution of the United States of America? Anybody?
All right. Now, who's for the Bill of Rights?
Who thinks freedom is a pretty darn good thing?
Come on! Let's see those hands!
Who thinks we have to stand up...
...to the kind of censorship they had under Stalin?
All right. There you go. America, I love you. I'm proud of you.
- We got to go. - We got to go.
This is great!
I figured it out.
Was that great, or what?
- I figured it out. - It's just like the '60s again!
- I figured it out. - Step outside, you Nazi cow.
- I know whose pain I'm supposed to ease. - What?
I just halted the spread of neofascism in America...
- Terence Mann. - What about him?
- That's whose pain. - How do you know that?
I just know.
I was right about building the field, wasn't I?
- Yes. What's his pain? - I don't know.
- How are you supposed to ease it? - I don't know.
Look, he's my favorite writer, too...
...but what's Terence Mann got to do with baseball?
It's incredible. By the early '70s, the guy decides people have become...
...either too extremist or too apathetic to listen.
So he stops writing books, he starts writing poetry about whales...
...and then he starts fooling around with a home computer.
Know what he does now?
He writes software for interactive children's videos.
They teach kids how to resolve their conflicts peacefully.
- God, what an amazing guy. - What's that got to do with baseball?
In the April 1962 issue of Jet magazine...
...there's a story called "This Is Not A Kite."
It's not his best work, but the story's hero is named John Kinsella.
- My father. - Wow.
What do you mean, "Wow"?
What should I say? Big wow! What's it got to do with baseball?
You drive.
Okay, the last interview he ever gave was in 1973.
- Guess what it's about. - Some kind of team sport.
The guy was a baseball fanatic. Listen to this:
"As a child, my earliest recurring dream was to play at Ebbets Field...
"...with Jackie Robinson and the Brooklyn Dodgers.
"Of course, it never happened. The Dodgers left Brooklyn.
"They tore down Ebbets Field, but even now, I still dream that dream."
That's sad.
The man wrote the best books of his generation.
He was a pioneer in the civil rights and the antiwar movement.
He made the cover of Newsweek. He knew everybody. He did everything.
He helped shape his time. The guy hung out with The Beatles.
It wasn't enough. What he missed was baseball.
- Oh, my God! - What?
As a small boy, he had a bat named Rosebud.
- Give me that. - Sorry.
The guy hasn't been to a baseball game since 1958.
So, to ease his pain, you're supposed to take him to a ball game.
Yes.
Ray, this is nuttier than building the baseball field.
No, it's not. It's pretty weird, but building the field was weirder.
Five, ten percent weirder.
I'm sorry, I'm going to have to nip this one in the bud.
We're having moderate to heavy financial difficulties here.
You can't take off for Boston while we're going broke in lowa.
This is really new territory for us...
...but we're dealing with primal forces of nature.
When primal forces of nature tell you to do something...
...it's not prudent to quibble over details. - Why do you have to go?
Why can't the voice send somebody else? How about Shirley MacLaine?
Is she too busy? What does this have to do with you?
That's what I have to find out.
We are behind on the mortgage.
That field ate up all of our savings. We could lose this farm.
I won't even stay in motels. I'll sleep in the car. I'll beg for food.
No. Now, this is too much.
I understand your need to prove to yourself and to the world...
...you are not turning into your father, but you have.
You believed in the magic. It happened. Isn't that enough?
It's more than that. I know this is totally nuts...
...but there's another reason I'm supposed to do it.
I feel it as strongly as I've felt anything in my life. There's a reason.
What? Just tell me what it is.
Something's going to happen at the game. There's something at Fenway Park.
I got to be there with Terence Mann to find it out.
Is Fenway the one with the big green wall in left field?
Yeah.
I dreamt last night you were at Fenway with Terence Mann.
- Was I sitting on the first base side? - Yes.
About halfway up on the aisle?
- Yeah. Eating a hot dog. - Eating a hot dog.
- I had the same dream. - I'll help you pack.
Hi, I'm Ray Kinsella.
Hi. No.
Hi, I'm Ray Kinsella. It's a great pleasure to finally get to...
Hi, I'm Ray Kinsella. I'm a big fan of yours.
Hi.
How do you do, Mr. Mann? I have to take you to a base...
All right, stupid, put your hands up and get in the trunk.
Good.
He lives right around here. Do you know him?
He's sort of a tall black man. I'm a friend of his.
If he was much of a friend, he'd have given you the directions himself.
That's a good point. Thank you.
I don't know where he lives. Get away from me.
I ain't going to tell you nothing. Go away. You're a pest.
Two blocks down, right-hand side.
First door that doesn't have a chicken in the window is his.
No chicken.
Who the hell are you?
Sir, my name's Ray Kinsella.
- We got a learning disability here? - Lf I could just have one minute, please.
I can't tell you the secret of life, and I don't have any answers for you.
I don't give interviews, and I'm no longer a public figure.
I just want to be left alone, so piss off.
Wait! Wait!
I've come 1,500 miles to see you...
...at the risk of losing my home and alienating my wife.
All I'm asking is one minute. Please.
One minute.
I understand your desire for privacy...
...and I wouldn't intrude if this weren't extremely important.
Oh, God. I don't do causes anymore.
This isn't a cause. I don't need money or an endorsement.
Refreshing.
You once wrote, "There comes a time...
"...when all the cosmic tumblers have clicked into place...
"...and the universe opens itself up for a few seconds...
"...to show you what's possible."
- Oh, my God! - What?
- You're from the '60s. - Well, yeah. Actually...
Out!
Back to the '60s! There's no place for you here in the future.
Get back while you still can!
You've changed, you know that?
Yes, I suppose I have. How about this? Peace, love, dope.
Now get the hell out of here!
- You've really pissed me off. - Just hold it right there.
I didn't want to do it this way.
- What the hell is that? - It's a gun, what do you think it is?
- It's your finger. - No, it's a gun.
- Let me see it. - I'm not going to show you my gun.
I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to come with me...
What are you doing?
I'll beat you with a crowbar until you go away.
Wait! You can't do that.
There are rules here? Oh, no. There are no rules here.
You're a pacifist!
Shit.
Thank you.
So, what? You're kidnapping me? What's the deal here?
I was hoping I could just convince you to come with me.
So you are kidnapping me?
I have to take you to a baseball game.
You what?
Tonight's game. Red Sox, A's.
Why?
Something will happen there.
I don't know what, but we'll find out when it does.
My name's Ray Kinsella.
You used my father's name for a character in one of your stories.
John Kinsella.
You're seeing a whole team of psychiatrists, aren't you?
I don't blame you for thinking that, but no, I'm not.
I swear to God, I'm the least crazy person I've ever known.
Why are you kidnapping me to a baseball game?
- May I? - Oh, please. Want a cup of coffee?
No.
Want some cookies?
No.
I read an interview you gave...
...about how you always dreamed of playing at Ebbets Field...
...and how sad you felt when they tore it down.
I never said that.
You didn't?
I don't even recall thinking that.
Weird.
This whole thing is so weird.
Then why go through with it?
It's a long story.
But it's a really good story. I'll tell you on the way.
- I'm not getting rid of you, am I? - No.
If you come to this game with me, I swear I'll never bother you again.
Not even a Christmas card.
So what do you do with yourself these days?
I live, I work. I learned how to cook.
I take walks and watch sunsets.
Don't you miss being involved?
I was the East Coast distributor of involved.
I ate it and drank it and breathed it.
Then they killed Martin, and Bobby...
...they elected Tricky Dick twice...
...and now people like you think I must be miserable...
...because I'm not involved anymore. I've got news for you.
I spent all my misery years ago.
I have no more pain left for any of you. I gave at the office.
So what do you want?
I want them to stop looking to me for answers...
...begging me to speak again, write again, be a leader.
I want them to start thinking for themselves.
And I want my privacy.
No, I meant what do you want?
Dog and a beer.
- Two. - $ 7.
Okay, I understand you.
You should be entitled to as much privacy as you want.
But why stop writing?
I haven't published a word in 17 years, and still I have to endure lunatics like you.
What do you think would happen if I suddenly came out with a new book?
They'd bleed me dry.