Those of us who have watched “Field of Dreams” a few hundred times know the scene that gets us in our feels.
It’s not the one where Kevin Costner’s Ray Kinsella plays that long-overdue game of catch with his father as the closing credits roll. That scene is not bad; it’s just a little predictable. And, if we’re being fastidious, the dad throws like he’s coming off rotator cuff surgery.
It’s the one before that, actually. Where James Earl Jones’ Terence Mann, gesturing out to the golden, sun-kissed diamond where the ghosts of baseball’s past stoically await their fate, explains to Ray why he must keep the farm and preserve the field rather than sell out to his weasel of a brother-in-law:
“The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball…baseball has marked the time. This field, this game—it’s a part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again.”
We have such a reminder right here in Baltimore, on Babb Field, at Stromberg Stadium. The home of the Johns Hopkins Blue Jays, who at the time of this composition are the top-ranked team in Division III baseball. Named for their beloved coach, Bob Babb, who will retire after this, his 46th season. Surrounded by a campus that is changing the future of humankind through medical and technological research, this quaint ballyard takes us back in time and reminds us why we fell in love with the game in the first place.
In a time where the average family must shell out hundreds to see their heroes at Camden Yards or Nationals Park, regular season games at Babb Field are free. Pack your own sandwich and chips, and come on in. Good seats are always available—even behind home plate, where one is close enough to the action to see the break of the curveball and the sweep of the slider.
Tired of watching ballgames that have been ruined by stats nerds? Who, in their obsession with launch angles and exit velocities have created a sport in which strikeouts are the most common outcome, situational hitting is obsolete and multimillion-dollar athletes couldn’t lay down a sacrifice bunt if their next endorsement deal depended on it?
Come to Babb Field, where one can watch second baseman Jimmy Stevens choke up slightly on his bat, shorten his swings and guard the plate with two strikes—the way Tony Gwynn, Rod Carew and Paul Molitor did it back in the day.
See fleet-footed centerfielder Jake Siani plant a textbook bunt in that dead zone between the pitcher, catcher and first baseman. And watch as first baseman Dillon Souvignier, whose fluid left-handed swing reminds this aging fan of former San Francisco Giants great Will Clark, work the count and find the pitch that will enable him to put the ball in play and move the lead baserunner along.
Fed up with the transience of big-time college sports, when the promise of bags of NIL cash and the convenience of the transfer portal has led to a generation of teenage millionaires playing on one-year deals?
Enjoy a game at Babb Field, where one can plainly see the obvious team chemistry between a group of young men who have played together on the field for years and are inseparable off of it. While it may seem maudlin to characterize this current roster as a band of brothers, the truth is that theirs is a special relationship—forged by the COVID pandemic, tedious morning workouts, monotonous practices, long bus rides, icy February doubleheaders, spring break games in Florida and the grind that comes with balancing collegiate sports with the academic expectations of one of the world’s elite universities.
To that point, there are few things more gratifying than seeing a player such as Shaun Steuerer—the consensus All-American third baseman and arguably the best all-around Division III player in the United States—belt two homers and drive in six runs on a Wednesday, then hand in on Thursday a paper that is impeccably researched, reasoned and written.
Had it with the parents who sit in amateur sports bleachers across the country—berating umpires, taunting opposing players and cheering for their kid while ignoring the rest? At Johns Hopkins, it takes a village of moms and dads to raise a team of champions.
One could sit at a game with the likes of David Boneno (father of hard-throwing Louisiana right-hander Will Boneno), Doug Whitney (dad of the rangy and dependable shortstop, Dylan Whitney) and Renata Geer (mom of hard-hitting leftfielder Lukas Geer) and, without knowing the familial relationships beforehand, have no idea which kid is whose. These parents are like family to one another, gracious to opponents, and supportive in equal measure of every player on the Hopkins roster.
For this writer, one story stands above the rest as testament to what makes these young men memorable for all the right reasons. Senior righthander Tyler Sugrim, a righthanded pitcher and aspiring civil engineer, arrived at Johns Hopkins four years ago as a walk-on player. Predictably, he saw little mound time in his formative years—and was not included on the roster when the Blue Jays made their exhilarating run to the College World Series finals this year.
Having taught Tyler during a previous semester, I texted him during that World Series just to offer a word of encouragement. I expected him to be frustrated, if not a little resentful that he was not with his teammates in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
I couldn’t have been further off-base. The young man was glued to his laptop, watching every pitch of the action through the streaming video feed and cheering for righthanded ace Matt Savedoff like he was sitting in the dugout.
His words to me are words that I’ve saved and will never forget. “I wish I could be there, but I’m just so happy to be a part of this team and proud of what my friends have accomplished. We’ll be back and I’m going to put in the work it takes to be there next time.”
Today, as the sophomores from that 2023 team form the nucleus of seniors making one last championship run together, Tyler Sugrim is a crucial member of the Hopkins bullpen and a critical ingredient of this postseason roster. “Next time” has arrived, and he is very much “there.”
Those who are looking for a baseball experience that is memorable and true would be well-served to be there for this playoff run. These young men are far more than a throwback to baseball’s past. It is my sincere hope that they are a window into our country’s future.
Len N. Foxwell is a longtime lecturer of Professional Communication and Writing within Johns Hopkins University’s Center for Leadership Education, and has taught many student-athletes through the years.
