Well, waddya know!
I said goodbye to Milwaukee County Stadium with one last baseball game in the fall of 2000. Walking under the grandstand and seeing the cracks in the foundation, it wasn’t a moment too soon. In many ways the old stadium was emblematic of the state of the team. They hadn’t reached the playoffs in eighteen years. The new stadium would bring new hopes. Unbeknownst to me at the time, it would be another seven years before the Brewers sniffed the playoffs.
The real magic of baseball is in its everydayness. It’s not a dominating event that occupies the whole day like the NFL or college football. Instead, each game is just a snippet of a much larger story. Every baseball game is different, rife with the possibility of seeing something you’ve never seen before. But every game is the same too, whether it’s a dramatic come from behind win, a blown save, or a ho-hum 6-2 game. It’s today’s game but tomorrow’s game is on deck, right around the corner. Combined, they form the tapestry of the summer.
For instance, since I’ve moved to Seattle I’ve taken to listening to the Brewers games as I prepare dinner. So, yes, you could say I had Bob Uecker over for dinner hundreds of times. After dinner I watch the last few innings on TV and then go about my evening. The only exceptions are games against the hated Cubs, which demand my complete attention.
But, as fans of any team know, the promises of spring give way to the realities of summer. In most cases, for the teams on the outside of the playoffs looking in, it brings either the promise of a better day or the harsh understanding that what they’re doing just isn’t working. For playoff teams it’s the hope that: if things go their way; if so-and-so can just do such-and-such; if they just catch fire; they can ride it all the way to the goal line. Regardless, the season for everyone always ends with a thud. It goes from a steady heartbeat to total silence. As the hall of famer Rogers Hornsby said, “People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.”
Of course, for one team that thud comes with the highest of highs, the world championship. And this year, for the first time in 56 years, that team was the Milwaukee Brewers.
I’m not sure what to make of that. As a community that never won a championship, Brewers fans hold a special place for the teams that came close. Ask any Brewers fan about CC Sabathia. Or Nyjer Morgan. Or Robin Yount’s motorcycle. But this year they didn’t come close. They made it all the way to the mountaintop. Only time will tell if Cooper Pratt is the real deal, but I can guarantee you the 22-year-old Pratt will never be forgotten.
One thing I reject out of hand is the concept of “long-suffering Brewers fans.” And, as someone who attended the very first game, I have as strong a claim to that title as anyone. I’ve enjoyed most seasons and most games, win or lose. (For the record, the Brewers overall have 4,508 wins and 4,654 losses.) Instead of long-suffering I’d classify Brewers fans as keenly anticipatory. And now the anticipation is over.
The best part of any title is the memories. On-the-field memories of course but also: the tailgates; the 30,00 at the watch parties; the 15,000 or so Brewers fans at the Tampa games; the kids getting a day off from school for the victory parade; and, my personal contribution, the 16-3 loss I went to in July with my nephew and his family in San Francisco. The second-best part of the title — nevermore will the Brewers be on the list of teams not to have won a World Series.
So, what’s next? God and collective bargaining willing, the drumbeat will take back up next spring. But for Brewers fans? Now is the winter of our pure contentment.
