Brewers Cubs NLDS, 2025

We should have known it would come to this. When Craig Counsell departed Milwaukee two years ago in favor of a bigger paycheck 90 miles south, I voiced my hope that he would experience five of the worst seasons known to man and be banished from Chicago in humiliation. Unfortunately, it’s hard to lose when you’re part of a well-run organization that has a big, fat, payroll. Oh, and when you’re a good manager with good players.

So I haven’t exactly gotten my wish, but man, there’s something satisfying about the Brewers winning the NL Central in 2024 and 2025, with the Cubs not even making the playoffs last year and having to beat the Padres in 3 games this week to advance. I mean, that SHOULD NOT be happening. The Brewers have no business winning the division, much less having the best record in baseball. That’s something I never thought I’d see.

Wanna know something else I never thought I’d see? A World Series title for the Milwaukee Brewers. And I fear that will remain to be the case this year. We might not even see an NLCS appearance, not because they’re not a good team, but because they’re very young and their pitching has been absolutely decimated. From having a surplus of starting pitching just a few months ago, they are now down to two starters in Freddie Peralta and Quinn Priester, and their bullpen has taken a hit as well.

But that won’t stop me from hoping. I’ve got tickets to game 5 on October 11, and I’m praying that somehow the Crew can win it in three or four and spare me the stress of another deciding game. I was in attendance when the Brewers lost to the Mets last year in game 3, and I was in attendance when they lost to the Dodgers in game 7 of the 2018 NLCS. I know that feeling, and I could do without it.

So here’s hoping. It’s been an absolutely thrilling season - one that had me wishing I lived back in my home town instead of commiserating with Cubs fans (there really aren’t any White Sox fans at present) - and it’s been so much fun watching a bunch of young guys with no expectations other than playing good, sound baseball. That this translated into winning streaks of eight, eleven and fourteen games wasn’t something anyone could have imagined.

But sometimes what we imagine is dwarfed by what’s possible. Maybe they’ll surprise us again.

Sports Fandom May Be Dumb, but I Still Love the Packers and Hate the Vikings

Sports fandom is dumb. There, I said it.

“Stupid to be a sports fan?  What are you talking about?” I can hear some of you say. Sports, after all, is a unifying force among people of disparate backgrounds, a source of excitement, camaraderie and thrilling memories. 

All of the above is true. But why I should be the least bit interested in a team comprised of members I’ve never met, who didn’t grow up in my hometown or anywhere near it and who probably don’t live in my home state in the off-season is a question for the ages. The only thing the Green Bay Packers players and I have in common is the fact that they play in Wisconsin, and I happened to grow up in Wisconsin, even though I haven’t lived there since 1993. If the Packers’ new starting quarter back, Jordan Love, had been drafted by the Cleveland Browns, I wouldn’t care one iota for him. If the Vikings had drafted him, I’d have an unsensible hatred for the man. But because the team I follow happened to spend a controversial first-round draft pick on him back in 2020, I am hoping and praying that he can return the Packers to their rightful place as Super Bowl Champions, maybe not this year, but in time.

At least my unexplainable allegiance to the team is something positive. I get a kick out of rapid fans painting their faces green and gold, tailgating for hours before and – sometimes – hours after a game, and purchasing stock in the ownership of a team that grants them absolutely no rights. I love that stuff! As I write this, I’m glancing above my computer where I showcase rotating Sports Illustrated covers of Packers history, currently one from 1966 and one from 1967, and when I get tired of these covers, I’ll replace them with covers from 1997 and 2011, when my favorite team did the unthinkable and won not one, but two Super Bowls in my lifetime. Prior to 1997, when my twin daughters were still in the womb, the Packers hadn’t won a Super Bowl since I had been in the womb in 1968!

So yes, my fandom may be ridiculous, but at least it’s fun.

It’s the flipside that’s a little unnerving. As illogical as it is for me to find enjoyment in the Packers’ victories, it’s even more ridiculous – and I take no pride in admitting this – that some of my favorite sports moments involve losses of the Minnesota Vikings. Fortunately for me, there has been no shortage of humiliating defeats for this hapless franchise. They’ve provided twisted haters like me with countless collapses that must have led some fans from the north to reconsider their allegiance. It’s been a rough ride for the Vikings. But why should it be that I loathe a team so much that I resort to watching videos of their worst defeats? What is this sick schadenfreude I and so many other sports fans willingly take part in?

It’s silly. It defies all logic. It goes against the good sense I espouse to possess. 

But here’s the reality. When the Packers lose their last game of the season, whether it’s in the regular season or it knocks them out of the playoffs, I invariably watch the following videos, two of which are gloriously called by a very emotional Paul Allen:

1)    Gary Anderson’s missed field goal in the NFC Championship against the Falcons on January 17, 1999.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52ahDuQPdsw

2)    The Vikings last-second loss to the Cardinals on December 28, 2003, a defeat that knocked them out of the playoffs.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNwv4GUD8aA

3)    My absolute favorite, Brett Favre doing what Brett Favre does, throwing a pick against the Saints in the NFC Championship on January 27, 2010.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UUeqvquXZI

Wonderful, wonderful moments. I know. I’m ashamed. But at least I can take solace in the fact that my hatred is shared by many other equally sick Packers fans. WISCOSPORTSWEEKLY – God bless him – posted this lovely top-10 worst Vikings defeats on YouTube just seven months ago, reminding me of some of the moments I’d forgotten about and making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

 And upon reading the video’s accompanying comments from people who have a likeminded and unexplainable revelry for the pain and suffering of others, I feel like for better or for worse, these are my people.

 Go Packers!

(and please note that I’ve documented the heartache sometimes associated with being a Packers fan, as I’m sure Vikings fans will be happy to highlight)

Back to Baseball

It’s Tuesday morning, and as I write this a replay of last night’s Brewers game is streaming behind me, a comforting companion to my morning. Like Bob Uecker himself – who’s announced Brewers games on the radio since I was three years old – my life’s accompaniment has always been baseball.

Except last year.

In a bit of bravado, on the heels of baseball’s moronic lockout that delayed the start to last season, I decided a year ago that I was done with baseball. And I was. After announcing in February, “Screw ‘em. I’m done,” I didn’t watch any baseball on TV except for a few game recaps, and I only attended five innings in person (at a White Sox game to hang out with my daughter and her partner).

This was a big change for me, and as I summarized last October, I didn’t really miss it. I found other things to do with my time, and I got lucky that the Brewers didn’t finish the season strong, sparing me the agony of having to watch my team miss the playoffs for the first time since 2017.  But I recognized that my baseball boycott might not continue.

A new season has started, and it only took four games for me to dive back in, purchasing the MLBTV package and following every Brewers game since in some form or another (a game recap, highlights, live or on-demand).

What led to this turnabout? Two things that I can think of:

1)      Major League Baseball, finally – FINALLY – enacted rule changes meant to speed up the game, something that should have been done a decade ago. It was a relief to check out box scores for the first few days of the season and see game times of 2:21, 2:32 and 2:57 (the latter for a high-scoring 9-5 game). This change was sorely needed. After enduring over a decade of watching showboating Ryan Braun step out of the batters box after each and every pitch to mess with his batting gloves, viewers are now treated to a streamlined game that transpires happily, neither rushed nor sluggish.

2)      Reviewing the box scores for those first four games was jolting for me because I recognized three names in the starting line-up. THREE! And I’d only been away for a year! I suddenly felt oddly disconnected from my hometown, no longer a native to Milwaukee, but an outsider. 

It was a combination of these factors, and the fact that the Brewers got off to a hot start, with three young rookies making an impact, that led me to spend $150 for MLBTV, eschewing the monthly bill that I could have opted for and cancelled at any time.  Nope, was all-in.

Two nights ago, I watched a spectacular 1-0 Brewers victory against the Padres, the only run being scored from a combination of a bunt single, a balk, a stolen base and a sacrifice fly in the second inning.  That was it for the night, and I sat on the edge of my seat as Wade Miley and Yu Darvish traded zeros through the seventh inning, and my heart raced as Brewers closer Devin Williams loaded the bases in the ninth and took Trent Grisham to a 3-2 count before obtaining a game-ending strikeout.

Baseball is back!

Life Without Baseball

There’s a running gag in the movie Airplane! in which Lloyd Bridge’s character, stressed out by an impending airline catastrophe, utters “Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smoking.” Throughout the film, he raises the ante, substituting “quit smoking” with “quit drinking” “quit amphetamines” “quit sniffing glue.” Fantastic.

At the beginning of the 2022 Major League Baseball season, I thought I might wind up in a similar state, as I had given up baseball despite the Milwaukee Brewers sprinting to a 32-18 start. 

Fear not, I thought. There’s still time.

And there was. In contrast to Lloyd Bridge’s character, it looks like I picked the right year to quit baseball.  After all, baseball quit on me and the rest of the nation in February and March, as spring training was postponed to accommodate whiny billionaire owners and whiny millionaire players while the rest of the country recovered from a hangover of COVID isolation, inflation, low-paid jobs, an attempted coup, disappearing lakes and rivers, and everything in between.

Good going, baseball! You are run by a bunch of morons.

In February, I wrote a blog called Baseball Digs its Own Grave and finished with the line, “Screw ‘em. I’m done,” uncertain if I would actually live up to the bravado of the sentiment. But I did. For the first time since I was a wee toddler, I didn’t watch any baseball except for a few game recaps and 5 innings of a White Sox game in early August solely to hang out with my daughter and partner who were looking for something to do on a balmy Chicago afternoon. I also checked out the box scores and standings a few times a week.

That’s it. Compare that to 2021, when I attended four games in Milwaukee (despite living 90 miles away) and watched upwards of 120 games via my now cancelled MLBTV subscription (after over a decade of loyal viewership).

In short, I followed baseball the way most sane people do: scanning a few headlines about the hottest teams and Aaron Judge’s historic home run pursuit.

I wasn’t sure I could do it, but as happened to so many people during the bleakest months of COVID isolation, it became very clear what I could live without. Not only could live without, but could happily live without. I did not miss baseball in the slightest. My evenings were spent playing music or taking walks or chatting with neighbors, and my visits to Milwaukee included record shopping with a friend, attending a lakeside beer garden, and enjoying a backyard barbecue. No $20 parking. No $13 beers. No frustration watching an anemic offense. No tearing out my hair as my team collapsed and failed to make the playoffs for the first time since 2017 despite uncharacteristically high expectations.

Sure, I was intrigued when general manager David Stearns traded Josh Hader away to the Padres, but this intrigue was squashed when a subsequent move to improve the woeful offense didn’t occur. And after reading this fine post about some of the boneheaded moves (or non-moves) of management this year, I’m thankful that I wasn’t subjected to such incompetence as a passionate participant. Instead, I was able to watch things from afar, with sensible detachment.

Now, I know that there’s a cost to detachment. I recall October of 2018, when I attended Game 1 of the NLDS and watched the Brewers edge out the Rockies as I maniacally cheered, waved my victory towel and downed beers. It was a great evening (less great was watching that same team lose twice to the Dodgers, once in Los Angeles, and once in Milwaukee for the decisive Game 7). I know that sports can lead to wonderful moments. And that’s what’s at stake here. The possibility of being elated. Of being overjoyed.  Of screaming up to the heavens when the Brewers finally, finally win a World Series. 

That overwhelming jubilation will be denied me even if the Brewers do finally win it all one day, because I will no longer be watching with the passion I once felt. I’m not saying that my baseball boycott will last forever. It might not even last more than one season. I don’t know. But I will no longer invest emotion into Major League Baseball. The most I’ll invest is a mild appreciation for the sport itself, and $100 or so to attend a game with all the fixings.

A couple of albums ago, I wrote a song called “Put You Away.” It’s a good one, and the lyrics perfectly capture how I’m feeling right now: 

I
I've got to put you away for a while
Someplace I'll one day say with a smile
Or maybe a tear
This is where I kept my heart from feeling
Cuz I
I can't bear to feel any more
This is so much worse than before

All those little heartbreaks when you're young
They don't compare to what feels like a ton
Of trouble taking me down
All my passions turn to sure disaster
And I
I've got to put you away in a drawer
And remember how it was before

How you opened up my soul
When all I wanted
Is to crawl back into a hole
You let my spirit soar towards a future
Paved in gold

I have visions in the night
It seems so close I almost toast the cup in victory
Could this be really happening?
Could this be really happening?

Oh, how you opened up my soul
When all I wanted
Is to crawl back into a hole
This hurts me more than words can say
And still I know no other way
Cuz this is really happening
Yes this is really happening to me

So long, baseball.  It was a good run.

Baseball Digs its Own Grave

Major League Baseball was already in trouble. With dwindling attendance after peaking in 2007, game times ballooning to 3 hours and eleven minutes (even after instituting some foolhardy rule changes), and lagging World Series TV ratings, it could be argued that baseball is on its way out, crying uncle to the multitude of other forms of entertainment. Hell, I raised three kids to love baseball, and they tell me that baseball isn’t really a thing their friends are interested in. Sure, maybe they go to the ballpark once a year for the hell of it, but as far as checking box scores and standings and tuning into games on TV, baseball has largely lost the next generation of fans. Of course, having World Series games that start at 8:09PM EST hasn’t exactly helped, has it? Why the MLB insists that they can gain the most market share by having as few young people watch the game as possible is perplexing. Football seems to have factored young fans into its calculous, but baseball has its collective head up its collective ass.

Ah, but not as far as we thought, apparently, because they’ve managed to push it in a little further still. 

Yes, Russia is invading Ukraine, America has just suffered through the worst two crises since World War II, people have lost full-time jobs and found only part-time jobs in return, the planet is heating up and water levels are rising, but baseball players and owners – these entitled pricks who get to play a game or get to be billionaires – are fighting over money. Never mind the multitudes who will be adversely affected as a result: the restaurant and bar owners, hotel chains, vendors, and local tourist attractions. Baseball has flipped them the proverbial bird. Screw you. We want our money!

It’s akin to something I read in Politico last week about the shenanigans that the far left in San Francisco employed recently during the pandemic. Autumn Looijen, co-founder of the Recall SF School Board campaign is quoted:

Imagine you’re in San Francisco. There’s been an earthquake. You’re out on the sidewalk in a tent because you’re not sure if your home is safe to go back to. And you’re cooking your meals on the sidewalk, you’re trying to do normal things. You’ve been there for months. Finally, your elected leaders show up and you’re like, ‘Thank God, here’s some help.’ And they say, ‘We are here to help. We’re going to change the street signs for you.’

Yep.

She’s spot-on, of course. And the same quote could be applied to Major League Baseball. The American people have endured several punches to the gut these past two years and could use some fun, lighthearted entertainment. So what does baseball do?  Shut down and argue about money.

I have cancelled my MLBTV subscription. This will put a strain on my marriage this summer. It will make my life less pleasant. I will have to find new things to do on weekday evenings when all I want to do is crack open a beer and enjoy the quintessential summer game. 

Screw ‘em. I’m done.