In the movie Field Of Dreams, there’s a scene where Shoeless Joe Jackson asks farmer Ray Kinsella, “is this heaven?” In one of the best cinematic lines of all time, Kinsella’s answer was, “no, it’s Iowa.”

Just recently, I got to visit my own personal heaven and no, it wasn’t Iowa.

Since the time I was eight years old, I’ve been a Boston Red Sox fan after feeling sorry for Bill Buckner when Mookie Wilson’s ground ball went through his legs. I must love torment because that same year I became a Greg Norman fan when he won the British Open and a Denver Broncos fan after they reached the Super Bowl — but fell for the first of what would turn out to be three championship game losses in four years. Little did I know it would take 18 more years for the Red Sox to win the world series, seven more years for Norman to win another major and 11 more years for the Broncos to win the Super Bowl witha close to 53-year-old John Elway quarterbacking them. Losing teams aside, I have been a die-hard Red Sox fan for 22 years now, but it wasn’t until mid-July that I got to visit Fenway Park for the first time.

As much as I love newer ballparks like PNC Park in Pittsburgh, I will always have a soft spot in my heart for older parks like Fenway, Wrigley Field, Old Comiskey Park and everyone’s north-of-the-border favorite, Milwaukee County Stadium, where the bratwurst was always fresh and the stadium sauce was always a surprise.

With other older parks with character like Tiger Stadium joining the ranks of the deceased, the history and purity of the game seems to be getting lost as luxury boxes, goofy mascots and gimmicky scoreboards are taking over the game.

That’s why I will always love old parks like Wrigley and Fenway. There is a character about them that hasn’t been touched by modern times. In fact, in order to change the National League scores at the foot of the Green Monster, a worker had to come out and manually put up numbers between innings.

(I actually applied for that job while I was there, but the Red Sox declined).

Also, as much as I fell in love with PNC Park the first time I visited it, it’s hard for me to picture Roberto Clemente running around the basepaths there like he would have done at Forbes Field; just like it’s impossible to picture Robin Yount or Paul Molitor making a great grab or getting a key hit at County Stadium while sitting at the oversized Miller Park.

When at Wrigley, I can still picture Ryne Sandberg rounding third base after cracking his second home run against Bruce Sutter. During my three days at Fenway (two of which were Red Sox wins, making the trip a successful one), I was able to picture Ted Williams belting one into the right field bleachers while Carl Yastzremski made another spectacular grab with his back against the Green Monster.

I still smile when I picture Pedro Martinez dropping Don Zimmer like a stuffed turkey, as well, during one of the many classice Red Sox-Yankees matchups.

While I appreciate the modern amenities that newer ballparks have to offer, like larger seats, larger bathrooms so you can get back out to the game quicker and big screens so you can be given every possible stat on the current hitter, it lacks the character and history that have made baseball such a great sport.

(To prove my point, I dare you to find a White Sox fan who actually likes the new Comiskey Park — I refuse to call it U.S. Cellular Field — better than the old barn. It won’t happen).

As much as Cubs fans can aggravate me (though never as much as they did former assistant sports editor Mike Sandrolini), I can’t fault them for flocking to the Friendly Confines as much as they do.

To go to a Wrigley or a Fenway is an experience in and of itself, a history lesson for baseball fans. Also, as big of a Yankee hater as I am, it’s a shame that we’re going to lose Yankee Stadium at the end of this year, and along with it the memories of Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Mantle and Reg-gie, Reg-gie, Reg-gie Jackson.

Over my three-game trip, I only took about 300 pictures of Fenway. It’s amazing what you think can make a good picture at the time, only to not look so good once it’s printed.