What once was good, and could be again...

I can’t do it.  I simply cannot get through a full reading of James Earl Jones’ immortal “People will come” speech from the 1989 masterpiece “Field of Dreams” without getting choked up a little.  I’m going to quote a small passage from the speech, which I find particularly pertinent to the way most die-hard Royals fans are feeling right about now:

“The one constant through all the years…has been baseball.  America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers.  It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again.  But baseball has marked the time.  This field, this game, is a part of our past…It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again.”

(Two quick side notes and I’ll get back on track.  Of all the cornfields in Iowa, why would the makers of Field of Dreams select a plot of land that covers two separate properties on which to shoot the film?  There’s a property line that runs smack dab through the outfield.  It’s caused nothing but trouble through the years.  The field has been preserved as a tourist attraction, but at various times, owners of one side or the other have done things to pi$$ off the owners of the other side.  One will want to plant part of it, or they’ll disagree about operations hours, etc.  It really is quite a mess.  During my first visit, circa 1993, I purchased a small bottle of soil that specifically says “From LEFT Field of Dreams” on it.  There are separate souvenir stands, separate driveways—it’s really quite messy.  BUT the portion of the field with the farm house and the buildings is now for sale, if you’re looking for a business opportunity.  

The other note:  There are really only two “James Earls” that everyone in America knows.  I’ve always found it interesting that one James Earl was the convicted murder of the greatest civil rights advocate of the 20^th century, and the other is one of the greatest character actors of all time, who also happens to be black.  I always thought it would be a horrific shame for somebody to confuse the two names, and then it happened.  How horrible was THAT?  Seriously, I don’t even think they’d try a joke like that in a Hangover-like film.)
OK, back to the story.

For me, the Royals have always marked the times.  Like a lot of 70s kids in the area, a lot of my earliest memories were winning Royals teams.  It all seemed so easy, like a given, that the Royals would always be good.  When we finally came out as World Series champions in 1985, it didn’t even faintly occur to me that we wouldn’t continue to head back to the playoffs nearly every year.  I didn’t realize how extremely fortunate we were to compile such an unusually talented stockpile of players at the same time, and how close most of them were to the end of the road.

Then the road ran out, and the talent all went to pasture, and nothing came in to replace them.
Oh, we’ve had nice bits and pieces float in and out from time to time.  Cy Youngs.  Rookies of the Year.  All-Star game winning pitchers.  Even the occasional winning season (none since 2003, but a few splattered in throughout the years).  Outside of a few glimmers of light shining through the clouds, the only positive experiences for the Royals fan have been the times when we can place ourselves in the bleachers, close our eyes and take a walk back through the memories of “what once was good.”

And now, finally, I feel like the time for the rest of the quote is mere months, or maybe a year or two, away.  “What once was good, and could be again.”

When I hear the tails of the talent that Dayton Moore has amassed in this organization, I feel 25 years of armor built around my wounded soul start to loosen and peel away, layer by layer.  Enough people saying the same things, time and time again, can’t possibly be all full of it—there has to be some truth to these rumors.

When I hear Bob Fescoe talk about guys launching balls into the next park, or Danny Clinkscale talking about the amazing physical specimen that Eric Hosmer has grown into, it takes me back to the time when I was just an innocent kid, asking Dad if we could turn the game on the radio as we traveled across Kansas or Missouri.  I can hear Denny’s majestic voice, pimping Guys potato chips or Kansas City Life Insurance between pitches.

It’s almost like I expect the world my five children are growing up in to be a little bit better than the one I knew after 1985, and if they’re lucky, maybe even close to as good as the one I knew before that time.