Jackson Chourio, Jack-Jack, caught the final out in Los Angeles Thursday night, and somewhere inside this ancient (actual mileage, not years) Brewers fan, a teenager jumped out of his chair. Milwaukee swept the Dodgers and headed for the World Series for the first time since 1982. Forty-four years had passed, and I never thought those words would hit me so hard.
I grew up on Sixto Lezcano, whose two-homer Opening Day in 1980 still lives in my head. Don Money, Sal Bando, Rollie Fingers, Pete “Vuke” Vuckovich, Paul Molitor, Robin Yount, Stormin’ Gorman Thomas, and Jim Gantner. They were the ballplayers I loved growing up, learning to love baseball.
I was a teenager when the 1982 Brewers, Harvey’s Wallbangers, went to the World Series and lost to those damn Cardinals in seven bloody games. Since then, I’ve watched promising seasons end with that familiar, hollow feeling. Every October seemed to find a new way to break our hearts.
And through those years, there was Bob Uecker.
God, I miss Ueck, and I know I’m nowhere close to being the only one who feels that way.
Some of my happiest memories are of fishing with my dad and brother while Ueck’s voice carried across the water from a radio. We’d talk about his stories, laugh at his jokes, and wait for his unmistakable laugh. I don’t remember the scores or how many fish we caught, but I remember being together.
Baseball gave us something to share, and Ueck made it feel like he was there with us.
Years later, a close friend coached varsity baseball at Green Bay East after running a nearby Babe Ruth league. He invited my middle daughter and her friend to his team’s annual clinic. Baseball and softball fundamentals are the same, except for pitching.
His guest coaches were Jerry Augustine and Jim Gantner, former Brewers I’d watched for years. They were patient, encouraging, and gracious. I went home less impressed by what they’d accomplished in the majors than by how they treated children.
Maybe that’s one reason why I love this team. Manager Pat Murphy has convinced his players to care about the guy beside them more than their personal numbers. During the Dodgers series, I kept hearing Brewers praise teammates and speak respectfully about the very players they were trying to beat.
They seemed to share one heartbeat.
Related: From Uecker on the Radio to 103 Wins: What a Season!
Consider center fielder Garret Mitchell, who at age nine was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes and still needs an insulin pump.
Now, let’s look at Jake Bauers. Two years ago, he nearly left baseball to stay home with his daughter. His wife, Lauren, encouraged him to try again. A second baby was on the way, and the family needed health insurance. On Thursday, the man who nearly walked away became NLCS MVP.
Jim Bouton once wrote that after spending your life gripping a baseball, you discover it was gripping you all along.
The Brewers won 103 games this season, beat the Padres 3-1, then faced the Dodgers — the team that swept them out in four games last October. In Thursday’s clincher, Milwaukee fell behind 4-0, fought back, and won 6-4, continuing their streak of four come-from-behind wins.
Watching those men refuse to panic, I wondered whether this October could really end differently.
Milwaukee plays in baseball’s smallest market, but you’d never know it inside American Family Field. To many of us, however, it’ll always be Miller Park. The place rocks with the energy of a college crowd, and the fans have earned every minute of this joy.
Of course I’m nervous. Ask Brewers fans my age or older, and you’ll hear the same confession. We hope they’ll win it all. We think they can. Somewhere deep down, we’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
We’ve spent 44 years learning that habit.
I wish Ueck could’ve called that last out. I wish I could sit beside Dad and my brother, hear the AM radio crackle, and enjoy one more of his stories. Whatever happens in the World Series, Milwaukee has already given us another October to remember.
Hope springs eternal, and God love the Packers: they have our hearts, but the Brewers have all of our souls.