A Field Of Their Own

"Now I stand ready to cut into the cornfield, to chisel away a piece of our livelihood to use as dream currency." - from W.P. Kinsella's "Shoeless Joe," the book on which the 1989 film "Field of Dreams" was based. -------------------------------

BAINBRIDGE ISLAND - When Doug and Cassie Picha gave their children a baseball field for Christmas in 1994, they didn't realize that "if they built it," half of Bainbridge Island's minivans would come.

But each spring, along with the crack of the bat and pop of the glove, there's the crunch of gravel as mothers and fathers make U-turns after dropping off bounding 10- and 11-year-olds at "Pichas' Field."

"Nice hustle!"

"All right, all right! That's All-Star play right there!"

This is a field of dreams, Northwest style.

Unlike the film, there are no cornfields from which Shoeless Joe Jackson can emerge, redeeming himself from the 1919 Chicago White Sox scandal via a modern-day Iowa farmer who believes in second chances.

There is an eagle overhead. And the Pichas' field (the name's pronounced Peeka) includes these ground rules:

If it goes into the raspberry bushes in the shortened right field, it's an automatic single; into the fir trees in center, a double.

There's also this dream: If adults in the community show they value their children, maybe society will get the payback.

"Ohhhhhhhh! Oh! Oh! Will! Nice catch!"

The Pichas already have gotten returns for giving up a corner of their 10 acres, land they cobbled together from various strawberry fields 15 years ago to turn into a landscaped rural beauty.

First Teddy played. Now 15, he's a member of the high school's freshman baseball team.

Then there was Joe, 13, who recently gave up baseball to play lacrosse.

Now Allie, 11, has starred in the majors of Little League, where girls are still rare enough that one umpire tried to insist another young girl was breaking regulations by not wearing a protective cup.

In Allie's footsteps - which will be large, because she played on the Bainbridge Island All-Star team that won the state championship last year - comes Sam, 9, now in the minor leagues.

The Pichas' field isn't big enough for higher levels of play or for more than practice games.

When Teddy, for instance, finally gets off the lawn mower long enough to take a few practice swings, he bats the ball across the road, which in Picha-land is an automatic homer.

But the field is still appreciated on Bainbridge Island, which has a shortage.

Any Little League team can use it. Allie and Sam's teams get first pick.

"Two hands! Two hands! Hey, Dan! You'll get it next time."

The coach of the visiting Marlins, Ollie Pedersen, laments that Bainbridge doesn't support its youth as it did when he was a boy four decades ago.

Funding for a new Bainbridge pool took several tries. The Boys & Girls Club still awaits a new facility.

Cassie Picha says support is increasing through organizations and private philanthropy, but Pedersen isn't swayed by her defense that property taxes are already so high, people are loath to add more.

"We're seeing the results of ignoring our youth all over the country," he said.

He gains from following his mother's philosophy of giving, and he believes society could, too.

His mother lived frugally but used any excess left after paying monthly bills to buy gifts for her grandchildren. When she became ill, they came home to be with her in her last month.

"Well," she told her son, "it's all coming back with interest to me."

In Pedersen's view, the hours he devotes to coaching or repairing fields come back to him the same way.

In addition to lacrosse and soccer, the Picha kids play baseball a dozen times a week in games or practices.

Cassie Picha, who works as a garden designer, joins the other minivans on parade, picking up children or dropping them off.

The kids do better if they're on a schedule, Cassie said, even if it means they're always busy.

"Otherwise, they come home, turn on the television and eat 14 bowls of cereal."

The parents apparently feel the same about themselves. If they're not behind the wheel or working (Doug directs the Children's Hospital & Regional Medical Center Foundation), they're weeding, pruning or planting.

Games are a welcome break.

"If the sun's out and you're sitting there, you can hear the sounds of summer," Cassie said. "I think it's the only time I have license to sit still and stop that frantic running around."

Had the Pichas built a football field or tennis court, it wouldn't have been the same.

Baseball is different from other sports, Pedersen said. There's no clock. You never give up until the last strike, which to him is indicative of American spirit.

"Guys," he told the Marlins before the game, "I want hustle. I want every throw to be as if the winning run's on third."

Across the field, his coaching opponent, David Knight, had a slightly different tone for the Rockies.

"You can't win 'em all," he told one player.

Knight says he's not a particularly good coach. He never played the game.

"What I bring to the team is helping them understand the value of doing their personal best, win or lose."

The back of Allie Picha's cap is covered with gold stars, a reward system Knight uses for exceptional plays and good sportsmanship.

Allie holds her own on the mound this night as the teams battle a frequent Northwest opponent: rain.

"Steeeerike!" said the volunteer umpire, Charles Peach. "I've got to be nice to you. You own the field."

Shortly before last week's end to the Little League season, Allie said she'll give up baseball in two years to devote herself to soccer, her real sport.

That will leave only Sam, who will outgrow the field and Little League in three more seasons.

"I always assumed we'd let the field go then," said Cassie, "but Doug said the other day he can imagine himself out there as an old man, lining the field and raking it.

"Why not?"