“Pigeon Hunting”
Before last Tuesday, I had never fired a gun. Though I’m not generally a fan of guns, it wasn’t ideological opposition that prevented me from pulling the trigger until now. I’ve never had a reason to fire a round. No trophy buck has demanded to be mounted on my wall, no wanted criminal has pulled a gun on me, and Uncle Sam has never conscripted me into service (praise the Lord). However, when your homestay host invites you to the sporting club for trap shooting, you can’t pass up the opportunity.
Prior to heading out to the range, I changed into my flannel Field & Stream shirt, not only to keep me warm against the chilly night, but to hopefully fit in among the seasoned sportsmen taking shots. The clubhouse was bustling with (mostly) men dressed in camouflage, Carhartts, and mesh shooting vests. The bar (yep, beer and guns) was serving up Miller Lite as folks milled about, chewed the fat, and waited for their team’s turn on the range. It was team shoot night and before taking the field ourselves for open shoot, we watched our host’s team take a crack at the clay pigeons. Out of 25 attempts, one of the guys hit 21. I was just hoping to get one.
My first pull I failed to trip the safety and of course, nothing happened. Good way to start the night, but I ended up surpassing my goal of one pigeon. In fact, I got twice as many! 2 for 25, not terrible for my first time. J.D. got 7, a tad better than me. The next morning as I hopped in the shower, I noticed the bruising on my aching shoulder. A small price to pay for a terrific Wisconsin experience.
“The Lambeau Leap”
We left the small village of Luxemburg for Iowa, stopping at Lambeau Field in nearby Green Bay for a tour before hitting the highway. While not a particularly thorough tour, it was definitely worth the time and money to see the “frozen tundra” of the Green Bay Packers. The stadium is simple and stunning. For being able to seat 72,000 it is shockingly intimate. The main bowl is entirely comprised of metal bleachers, the front rows being mere feet from the field. Within the bowl, there are no view obstructions and no divisions among the seats. The effect is one of complete unity both within the spectatorial masses and between fan and field.
The Packers are a community team, with over 100,000 local shareholders comprising the ownership, the only such team in professional sports. Season tickets have been sold out since the 1960s and everyone within a 80 mile radius quite possibly could be legally obligated to be a fan. We heard the story of one woman who booked the events room for a wedding in 2013 even though she had no fiancee, not even a boyfriend. Such is the desire for Packers fans to have the team a part of their lives. There is a tangible sense of community created by the Packers, one that involves everybody. Often times, major professional sports seem removed from the communities they exist in. Not so in Green Bay, where even the design of the stadium reflects the uniquely symbiotic relationship between team and community. As I stood gazing out on the field, I thought “This is what sports was meant to be.” Too bad the money and fame and all that often get in the way of bringing people together.
“If You Build It, They Will Come”
If sports are about community and people, than the Field of Dreams movie site is the ideal sports locale. On our way to our next residency, we detoured to Dyersville to see where Shoeless Joe walked out of the corn and asked, “Is this heaven?” No, it’s Iowa and it’s beautiful, as you can see in the movie, set amidst the rolling fields west of Dubuque. The field is well maintained by its owners, the Lansing family, and is open to the public everyday from April through November free of charge. Their brochures advise, “Enjoy the surroundings, bat a few balls, play a little catch, run the bases or sit and dream on the bleachers. Don't forget to bring your favorite bat, ball and glove.” They’ve tried to keep it true to the spirit of the movie, a place to reconnect, dream, and enjoy the good things in life. What a place. J.D. and I each bought a baseball, dug our gloves out, and played some catch on the thick, green grass. If only the corn was up.
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