Honoring a simple tradition at the start of baseball season

Regular readers of this blog are familiar with my “tradition” of watching a selection from a short list of films to commemorate the start of baseball season, and I recently received a few queries about which film I selected to mark the start of the 2016 MLB season.

In years past, I announced my selection a week or two before the start of the season, but I didn't this year. I got caught up in the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament and put off selecting a film until just before the first pitch was thrown. Opening Day came and went without an announcement, and the emails followed. One writer asked if I had given up the tradition. Another asked if I had simply grown lazy. Neither, I was just distracted.

I selected "Field of Dreams”, the classic tale from 1989 about an Iowa farmer who plows under a large section of his corn field and replaces it with a baseball field, after a voice in the wind whispers to him, "If you build it, he will come."

I have a theory that most good movies about baseball tell us stories about life and only use baseball as a background for the larger tale. “Field of Dreams” proves my point, I think. 

My theory applies to most good movies about sports, whether its basketball (“Hoosiers”), football (“Remember the Titans”), or even hockey (“Slap Shot”. Yes, laughter should be a big part of every life). 

However, films about baseball seem to excel at emphasizing fundamental life values.

My tradition dates to November 1988, when my dad and I watched “Hoosiers” one Saturday morning while we waited for a college basketball game to air on TV later that afternoon. Dad played basketball in high school and college and was a devoted fan of the game throughout life. He followed the NBA until mid-1980s, when he concluded the league had given up on playing skilled defense.

He particularly enjoyed college basketball, so we developed the habit of starting each season with a screening of “Hoosiers”. I think it became his favorite sports movie, and I know he enjoyed listening to composer James Horner’s musical soundtrack for the film nearly as much as he enjoyed viewing the movie. He kept a copy of the soundtrack in his collections of CDs.

I expanded my viewing tradition to include baseball movies and later ones about football. I have a collection of reliable favorites, but friends frequently offer suggestions, and some tell me they have adopted similar viewing traditions of their own.

It seems the films I turn to most frequently are the ones with powerful soundtracks — “Hoosiers”, “The Natural,” “Moneyball”, and “Field of Dreams”.

I think a strong soundtrack, like a strong supporting cast, can make a good movie a great film. Again, “Field of Dreams” proves my point.

Horner also composed the score for “Field of Dreams” and his music is a perfect match to the film’s screenplay. Parts are sentimental and syrupy, others are haunting, and others uplifting.

Perhaps it’s the sentimental charm that attracts me to the “Field of Dreams” soundtrack, much in the same way Dad connected with the music for “Hoosiers”. 
 
Dad passed away in February of 1995, but I continue to watch “Hoosiers” at the outset of each basketball season, and a few days ago commemorated the start of baseball season with “Field of Dreams”. Afterward, I remembered how much I enjoyed those afternoons when Dad and I would sit down for our annual viewing of a movie we’d seen so many times we could almost recite the lines from each scene. 

And I reflected on the much older memories I hold of having “a catch” with him with in our backyard in Arlington Heights. I suppose that is why I believe really good baseball movies are more than just stories about baseball. They reflect experiences common to Americans, and they remind us of the individuals who touched and shaped our lives. That’s why I continue my viewing tradition.

I thought you’d like to know that.

— Kevin Botterman can be reached at kbotterman@gmail.com

A quirky habit passed from one generation to the next

Doughnuts from Kuipers Family Farm near Maple Park.

I have many habits, but can honestly say most are harmless and not too strange.

A few of my habits are adopted from friends and relatives, including my father. I recently caught myself practicing one of dad’s quirkier habits.

I visited Kuipers Family Farm, a favorite site in Maple Park. Kuipers offers an apple orchard, a corn maze, a variety of autumn attractions, natural Christmas tress and other items. They also have a country store, where the merchandise includes baked goods, including cinnamon doughnuts.

Lori, my wife, sent me to Kuipers to buy a bag of honeycrisp apples and ordered me to stay away from the bakery counter. I forgot Lori’s ban on baked goods the moment I stepped through the store’s front door, and I purchased a dozen cinnamon doughnuts without hesitation. 

I felt guilty about ignoring Lori’s ban, and she scolded me later that night. I had consumed two of the delicious doughnuts by then and was planning a schedule for consuming the remaining ones, so I guess I didn’t feel too guilty about ignoring Lori. Besides, I shared some of the doughnuts with her.

It was that night when I realized what I had done was similar to what my dad frequently.

Dad came home with tasty treats. His work took him throughout Chicago and northern Illinois, and dad became familiar with bakeries, restaurants and farm stands in the area. 

Dad carried home pies, cookies, coffeecakes, fruit, vegetables, fresh meats and ice cream. It was all great stuff to a child, and my siblings and I enjoyed every bite.

There was little regularity to dad’s food presentations. He’d return home with fruits and vegetables at the end of a work day one week and present a rich-tasting coffeecake on the weekend. He then might reverse the order of presentations the next week. Some weeks didn’t include any treats, but other weeks might involve several items. 

Some of Dad’s food purchases became annual traditions. He would bring home boxes of holiday cookies from Chicago’s renown Maurice Lenell bakery. The pinwheels and the raspberry jellies were my favorites. The bakery closed its doors in 2008, but it lives on in my Christmas memories.

Dad passed away in 1995, but I still miss him and think about him nearly every day.  He was a wonderful dad for many reasons, and I cherish my memories of his quirky habits.

I suppose Lori and the rest of my family will just have to endure me bringing home tasty treats. I wonder if I can build an annual tradition around cinnamon doughnuts.