Some of my favorite Brewers memories don't begin at a ballpark.
They begin on a hot Wisconsin summer night with my dad, my brother, and me fishing on Half Moon Lake in Carson Park while Bob Uecker called the game on the radio. You could hear the water, the insects, maybe somebody fumbling with tackle, and Ueck describing baseball as only he could.
Those nights became part of what the Brewers mean to me.
There were ballpark memories, too. I remember going to the Met in Minneapolis and watching Larry Hisle hit two home runs against the Twinkies, including one off the fair pole.
Years later, sitting in the left-center field bleachers at the Metrodome, I had binoculars on home plate while Paul Molitor stole home while Robin Yount stood at the plate. It remains one of the greatest baseball moments I've ever seen in person.
And I know what some of you are thinking: the MLB lost some of you as a fan. I respect that. For me, however, baseball is part of me.
Growing up in Eau Claire, Wis., it meant it was easier to see the Brewers play the Twins than to drive three hours to Milwaukee County Stadium.
That said, I was at County Stadium when the Brewers retired Yount's No. 19. Yount tore around the field on a Harley, which seemed appropriate. Not long afterward, somebody launched what appeared to be an industrial-sized tub of ketchup from an upper deck. It landed about 75 feet from me.
Baseball memories aren't always dignified.
For Brewers fans of my generation, the lean years count, too. Milwaukee reached the World Series in 1982 and didn't return to the postseason until 2008.
Twenty-six years.
An entire generation of Brewers fans learned to love baseball without expecting October as a reward.
Then came 2026.
The Milwaukee Brewers finished 103-59, the best record in baseball, and a franchise record for victories.
Even better, they became the first 100-win team in major league history that never won more than five consecutive games.
Think about what that says about a 162-game season. There wasn't one absurd three-week streak carrying the record. Milwaukee simply kept winning series. Thirty-seven of them, including 10 sweeps. They finished September 18-6 and swept St. Louis to close the regular season.
They also did it without playing home run derby every night.
Milwaukee spent much of the season near the bottom of baseball in home runs, while ranking among the leaders in team batting average, on-base percentage, runs, doubles, and stolen bases. Their hitters used the entire field, their pitchers got outs, their defense saved runs, and their bullpen ranked among baseball's best.
The roster made the season even easier to love.
Joey Ortiz saw his average sink near the Mendoza Line before fighting his way back to .266 while playing outstanding defense.
Jackson Churio became the first player in MLB history with three 20-homer, 20-steal seasons before his 23rd birthday. He's 22, completing his third major league season, and still younger than National League Rookie of the Year favorite Sal Stewart of the Reds.
Brice Turang already owns a Platinum Glove, and finished Sunday with a season total of 100 RBI and 102 runs scored. Jake Bauers produced the best season of his career, and Jacob Misiorowski, "The Miz," spent the summer throwing baseballs at speeds that seemed unreasonable for human shoulders, including a 105.5 mph pitch, the hardest ever tracked from a starting pitcher in the Statcast era.
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One of the season's most unforgettable moments for me came on June 6 against Colorado. The Miz was in trouble in the seventh; runners on first and third, the top of the Rockies' order coming up, and the game suddenly hanging in that uncomfortable space where one pitch can change everything.
Manager Pat Murphy started toward the dugout steps, ready to take the ball and call to the bullpen. Misiorowski saw him coming, locked eyes with his manager, shook his head hard, and told him without saying a word: Not yet.
Murph stopped, and for a few seconds, the whole ballpark and TV audience seemed to understand what was happening. A young pitcher was asking for one more chance, and an old-school manager was deciding to trust him.
Murphy gave him the nod, Misiorowski turned back toward home plate, reached for something extra, and continued firing 101+ mph fastballs. Two batters later, both were gone on strikes, the threat was dead, and the inning was his.
It was courage, stubbornness, an adrenaline spike, and the maturation of an ace packed into a few minutes. More than anything, it captured the relationship between Murphy and his players: he demands everything from them, and when they demand something from themselves, he gives them room to prove it.
Then there's Murph.
Pat Murphy has spent three seasons managing Milwaukee, and has done little besides win. He's old-school enough to pull rookie Cooper Pratt and three-time all-star catcher William Contreras for failing to hustle, even when the standings said Milwaukee could afford to relax. His players don't seem to resent the standard; they embrace it and love the fact that Murph plays no favorites.
October may indeed humble them. Baseball has a cruel sense of humor, and the Dodgers demonstrated it last year by sweeping Milwaukee in the NLCS.
The Brewers know what losing in October feels like.
Good.
Now they know what 103 wins feel like, too.
I don't know how far they'll go. I know what the regular season gave us.
From Uecker on the radio with my dad and brother, to Yount on a Harley, Molitor stealing home, 26 years without October, and now the winningest Brewers team ever, baseball has marked the years of my life.
The World Series will eventually end, and my saddest day on the calendar will arrive again.
But not yet.
The Brewers, the True Blue Brew Crew, still have baseball to play.