Is this heaven? No. It’s Milwaukee. And we’re World Series champions.
I don’t even know where to begin.
Actually, I do. It begins sometime in the early 1980s, with a little girl, her parents, a trip to County Stadium, and a baseball player with one hell of a handlebar mustache.
The Milwaukee Brewers have won the World Series.
Read that again.
THE MILWAUKEE BREWERS HAVE WON THE WORLD SERIES!
For the first time in franchise history. After 44 years of waiting since that heartbreaking 1982 World Series against the St. Louis Cardinals, Milwaukee finally has its championship.
And somewhere, I’m convinced, Bob Uecker is having the time of his afterlife.
But this isn’t just about a baseball championship. It’s about a lifetime of memories, generations of family, childhood heroes, summer evenings, baseball on television, trips to the ballpark, and a team that has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.
It’s personal. It’s Wisconsin. It’s the Brewers.
It started with a mustache.
My love affair with the Brewers started when my parents took me to my first baseball game at County Stadium.
It was also my ONLY game at County Stadium. I was so young I don’t think I was even five years old.
I remember having a seat directly behind a pole.
Because, naturally, what better place to put a little kid who is trying to watch her first major league baseball game?
I kept maneuvering myself around that stupid pole, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of Rollie Fingers and his famous handlebar mustache. Eventually, my dad switched seats with me so I could actually see the game.
And I was absolutely enthralled.
I loved watching Fingers pitch. The windup, the mechanics, the way he swung that entire leg through and back on the mound. There was something mesmerizing about watching him work.
I might not have understood much about baseball at that age, but I knew I was watching something special.
And that mustache? Legendary.
Some kids had Mickey Mouse. I had Rollie Fingers.
Not a bad start.
Robin Yount, Paul Molitor, and a family connection.
Then there was Robin Yount.
He was my dad’s favorite player, and the two of them shared the same birth year. I suppose that made him even more special to Dad.
Robin was one of those players who seemed to embody everything you wanted in a baseball player. He was talented, dependable, and exciting to watch. He became one of the faces of Milwaukee baseball, and for good reason.
There’s another little family connection, too. My son Dawson shares a birthday with Robin Yount.
In 2016, I took Dawson and Owen to the Field of Dreams in Dyersville, Iowa, for an All-Star charity baseball game. We had the opportunity to meet Mr. Yount and shake his hand.
How cool is that?
I got to share a moment with one of my childhood baseball heroes, and my boys got to meet a player who meant so much to their grandfather and their mom.
Those are the kinds of memories that make baseball about so much more than baseball.
And we certainly cannot forget Paul Molitor. Or, as we affectionately called him, Mollie.
I loved watching him play. He was exciting, electric, and just plain fun to watch. Between Yount and Molitor, the Brewers had two players who made you want to turn on the television and see what they were going to do next.
My grandpa Florian was originally a Milwaukee Braves fan. When the Braves packed up and left for Atlanta, Grandpa eventually started watching the Chicago Cubs because Milwaukee no longer had a major league baseball team.
Can you imagine?
A Wisconsin baseball fan having to resort to watching the Cubs?
I’ll give Grandpa a pass.
Milwaukee got the Brewers in 1970, and even Grandpa eventually fell in love with them, especially when Yount and Molitor came along.
That’s the thing about baseball. Sometimes a team becomes part of your family, whether you intended it to or not.
These were the Brewers of my childhood. And I will always have a soft spot for them.
Growing up with the Crew.
As I moved into my late twenties and thirties, the Brewers continued to give me plenty to cheer about.
Corey Hart. Prince Fielder. J.J. Hardy. Ryan Braun.
What a fun group to watch.
There was something about those teams that made baseball feel exciting again. The big hits, the personalities, the energy, the anticipation of what might happen when you turned on a game.
And then Christian Yelich came along.
Suddenly, things were really exciting.
One of my favorite early memories with the boys was Dawson’s very first Brewers game in June 2008. My parents, my youngest brother, and I were all going to the game with Dawson, and my dad’s friend and longtime tavern patron, Dick Jones, was supposed to join us, too.
Sadly, Dick passed away before the game. We suddenly had an extra ticket and weren’t quite sure what to do with it, so my friend Maureen, who lived in Germantown, met us at the ballpark and took the seat. But Dick wasn’t forgotten. Another friend of ours who knew him contacted the Brewers’ offices and arranged to have Dick’s name appear on the stadium screen in his memory.
What a wonderful tribute to a man who loved the Brewers and was supposed to be there with us that day. Dawson may have been too little to understand the significance of it all, but I certainly remember.
His first Brewers game became about more than introducing my son to my favorite team. It became a memory of family, friendship, loss, and the way baseball has a funny way of keeping people together, even when they’re no longer sitting beside us. I think Dick would have loved knowing he made it onto that big screen at Miller Park.
I have so many good memories of taking my little boys to Brewers games. First Dawson and Owen, and later Gannon when he was old enough to enjoy the experience.
I loved sharing that with them.
There’s something special about taking your kids to a baseball game. The smell of the ballpark, the crowd, the excitement when someone hits a home run, the inevitable request for another snack, and the realization that you have somehow spent a small fortune on hot dogs and beverages.
But you do it anyway.
Because it’s baseball.
Those are the Brewers my older boys grew up with. And now, the team that has just accomplished something extraordinary belongs to Gannon’s childhood, too.
Three generations of Brewers memories, all connected by the same team.
From County Stadium to the Brewers bus.
Baseball and the Brewers were never just something we watched at home. They were part of our family traditions, too.
My dad owned a tavern, and over the years he sponsored plenty of Brewers bus trips for his patrons. Those trips were a big deal. A bus full of people heading to Milwaukee, spending the day at the ballpark, enjoying a few cold ones, cheering on the Crew, and making memories along the way.
And I was SO jealous.
I was a kid. I couldn’t go. I had to watch everyone else climb aboard and head off to Milwaukee while I stayed behind. I wanted to be on that bus! I wanted to be part of the fun!
Years later, that same family tavern tradition is still going, with my brother now running the place. And in the last few years, I’ve finally gotten to experience what I missed out on as a kid.
I’ve been on two Brewers bus trips after Frank & Ernie’s was selected as Tavern of the Game. Having our hometown tavern featured during a Brewers broadcast was pretty exciting, but the best part was being there, riding down with a busload of fellow fans, enjoying the game, and soaking up that Milwaukee Brewers atmosphere.
I had an absolute blast on both trips. After all those years of watching the buses leave without me, I finally got my turn!
On the last trip Dawson got to come along. I think the Brewers lost that day, but we drowned our sorrows in a few Miller Lites. Rite of passage, I suppose.
I hope someday to take Owen and Gannon on one of those trips. Of course, they’ll have to be of legal drinking age first. After all, our team is named after people who brew beer, and this is Wisconsin. It’s practically a state tradition!
There’s something pretty special about how these traditions carry on. My dad started it by bringing people together over his love of the Brewers. My brother has carried on the family tavern tradition, and now I’m getting to make my own memories through it. Someday, I hope to pass that experience along to my boys.
From a little girl wishing she could get on that bus to a mom hoping to take all her sons along for the ride.
Some things really do come full circle. And some family traditions are worth keeping alive.
Taking the Crew on the road.
As much as I love seeing the Brewers play in Milwaukee, there’s something pretty special about watching your home team play in someone else’s ballpark. I had that opportunity in July 2008 when I attended a game at AT&T Park in San Francisco, now known as Oracle Park. And yes, I was decked out in my Brewers gear!
The Brewers were in town to play the San Francisco Giants, and they didn’t disappoint. Milwaukee won all three games in that series. That’s right. We swept San Francisco, and I got to witness it in person.
Now, let’s just say the San Francisco crowd wasn’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat for us Brewers fans. We were perhaps slightly less popular than I would have preferred. So I quickly learned the importance of locating fellow Brewers fans in the stands and making friends with the people sitting nearby. There’s safety in numbers when you’re wearing the opposing team’s colors in someone else’s ballpark!
But what makes this memory especially dear to me is that my friend Liz Thompson came along. Liz was from New Jersey and wasn’t a Brewers fan, but she was a good sport and wanted to experience the game with me. She came along for the adventure, even if she probably had no idea what she was getting herself into with my enthusiasm for the Crew.
Sadly, Liz is no longer with us. She passed away from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, better known as ALS, or what was once commonly called Lou Gehrig’s disease. And there’s an irony in that connection that has stayed with me. Lou Gehrig, of course, was a legendary New York Yankee, while Liz was a Jersey girl who came all the way to a San Francisco ballpark to watch my beloved Milwaukee Brewers.
I miss Liz so much. I wish she were here to celebrate this championship with us. I’m pretty sure she’s somewhere smiling, though, and probably telling Bob Uecker about that crazy friend of hers, Dana, who dragged her to her very first Brewers game. I can just imagine Ueck getting a kick out of that story.
Some memories become more precious with time, and this is certainly one of them. I’m grateful Liz was there, grateful we shared that day together, and grateful that baseball gave us one more memory I get to carry with me.
And then came the 2026 Brewers.
I don’t even know how to describe this group of guys.
William Contreras. Cooper Pratt. Brice Turang. Garrett Mitchell. Jackson Chourio. Trevor Megill. Jacob Misiorowski. And my personal favorite, Sal Frelick.
And every single one of the guys on this roster deserves to be celebrated.
I was super emotional when Brandon Woodruff stepped onto the mound during the World Series. There are so many tearful moments, sentimental feelings. I thought my heart was going to burst!
These boys have made me so happy. So proud. So ridiculously excited to be a Brewers fan.
And we can’t talk about this team without talking about the man leading them: Pat Murphy. The Murph. What an incredible coach and what an incredible fit for this group of players.
He has a way of bringing out the best in these guys while letting them be themselves. You can see how much they respect him, how much they enjoy playing for him, and how much he believes in them. He’s got the fire, the personality, the baseball smarts, and just enough of that old-school baseball attitude to make you appreciate him even more.
He’s not simply managing a roster; he’s building a culture. And I think that’s a huge part of what made this team so special. Murph belongs right alongside these players in the story of this championship. Milwaukee got its man, and what a ride he gave us!
What I love most about this team isn’t just the talent. It’s the chemistry.
They genuinely seem to enjoy playing together. There’s a bond between them, a friendship, a sense that they’re all pulling in the same direction. They celebrate one another. They pick each other up. They play like a group of guys who understand that baseball is a team sport.
And what a team they have become.
They finished the regular season with 103 wins, swept the defending champion Los Angeles Dodgers in the National League Championship Series, and then took down the Tampa Bay Rays in five games to claim the championship.
William Contreras earned World Series MVP honors. Jacob Misiorowski delivered a brilliant performance in the clinching game. Cooper Pratt made history as a rookie. Trevor Megill got the final outs.
And that final out?
I think every Brewers fan in Wisconsin collectively lost their minds.
After all those years, all those seasons, all those close calls, all those disappointments, all those October games where we hoped this might finally be our year…
IT WAS OUR YEAR.
And I absolutely love that this team did it together.
These guys are going to be friends for life. Years from now, they’ll look back on what they accomplished in 2026 and know they were part of something that changed Milwaukee baseball forever.
Milwaukee has made us famous.
Jerry Lee Lewis once sang about what made Milwaukee famous.
Well, I think these Brewers have done a pretty good job of that.
And not just for Miller beer.
They’ve made Milwaukee famous for something much bigger. They’ve made Wisconsin proud. They’ve given an entire state something to celebrate. They’ve reminded the rest of baseball that you don’t have to play in New York or Los Angeles to build a championship team.
You can come from the smallest market in Major League Baseball, put together a group of talented, hardworking guys who believe in one another, and take home the biggest prize in the sport.
And for the record, I will ALWAYS call it Miller Park.
I know it’s American Family Field now. I understand the sponsorship thing. I get it.
But it’s Miller Park.
American Family Field just doesn’t sound right coming out of my mouth. Some things don’t need to be changed. Or at least, some of us aren’t going to cooperate with the changes.
I’m also still not entirely over the fact that I only got to attend one game at County Stadium. But I suppose I’ll have to settle for having been there to witness the beginning of a lifelong obsession.
Remembering Mr. Baseball.
And then there’s Bob Uecker.
Oh, Ueck.
I wish he could have been here for this.
Bob Uecker wasn’t just the voice of the Brewers. He was part of the personality of Milwaukee baseball. His humor, his stories, his perfectly timed one-liners, and his unmistakable voice were woven into the experience of being a Brewers fan.
He made us laugh. He made us feel like we were sitting right there with him. He could make even the most ordinary baseball moment entertaining.
His absence was especially noticeable during this incredible run.
I can only imagine what he would have said about this team. I’m sure there would have been a few jokes, a little self-deprecation, and probably something about how he never expected to see the day.
But I know he would have been proud.
I like to imagine Mr. Baseball is somewhere up there, celebrating with all the baseball players and fans who went before us. Maybe he’s reunited with some of his old teammates, telling stories, cracking jokes, and making sure everyone knows that Milwaukee finally got it done. I hope he’s getting the biggest standing ovation of all.
And I have another image in my head that makes me smile. I keep imagining Bob Uecker walking out of that cornfield in Field of Dreams, just like Ray Liotta’s Shoeless Joe Jackson, taking a look around and realizing what happened.
Maybe he steps out, adjusts his cap, looks toward Milwaukee, and gives us that familiar grin. Then he turns around and disappears back into the cornfield, because even in heaven, Ueck probably has somewhere to be and a game to call. I’d like to think he was watching every pitch, every hit, every celebration. And now he gets to tell the story himself, wherever baseball legends go when their time on earth is done.
There’s no crying in baseball. Or is there?
Jimmy Dugan famously declared in A League of Their Own, “There’s no crying in baseball!”
Well, Jimmy, I think we deserve a pass.
Because there have been plenty of tears of joy in Wisconsin this week.
Forty-four years.
Forty-four years since the Brewers last appeared in the World Series. Forty-four years since the 1982 team came so painfully close. Forty-four years of waiting for another opportunity.
And now, after all that time, we aren’t just celebrating an appearance.
We’re celebrating a championship.
I think even Jimmy Dugan would understand.
And if not, he can take it up with the entire state of Wisconsin.
These are the moments we pass down.
Someday, I’ll tell my grandchildren about the 1982 Brewers.
I’ll tell them about Rollie Fingers and his mustache, Robin Yount, Paul Molitor, my dad, and my grandpa Florian. I’ll tell them about watching games with my boys, about Corey Hart and Prince Fielder, about Ryan Braun and Christian Yelich.
And I’ll tell them about the 2026 Brewers.
I’ll tell them about the little team from Milwaukee that nobody outside Wisconsin seemed to take seriously enough. The team that kept proving people wrong. The team that played together, believed in one another, and finally brought home a World Series championship.
I’ll tell them about Sal Frelick, because Grandma has favorites.
I’ll tell them about Jackson Chourio, Brice Turang, William Contreras, Cooper Pratt, Garrett Mitchell, Trevor Megill, Jacob Misiorowski, and every other guy who made this possible.
I’ll tell them about the night Milwaukee finally became a World Series town.
And I’ll remind them that baseball isn’t just about statistics, standings, contracts, or championship rings.
It’s about memories.
It’s about sitting behind a pole at County Stadium and having your dad switch seats so you can see your favorite pitcher.
It’s about your dad sharing a favorite player with you, and your son sharing a birthday with that same player.
It’s about taking your children to the ballpark and hoping they’ll love the game as much as you do.
It’s about your grandfather switching allegiance after his beloved Braves left town.
It’s about generations of fans who never gave up.
And it’s about a little girl who fell in love with the Milwaukee Brewers more than four decades ago and never stopped believing that someday, somehow, this could happen.
Once a fan, always a fan.
I don’t know what comes next for this team. I don’t know how many more championships are in their future. I don’t know how many of these players will stay together or how long we’ll get to enjoy watching them play.
But I do know this:
They have given us something that nobody can ever take away.
They are World Series champions.
The Milwaukee Brewers are World Series champions.
After 44 years, WE DID IT.
And somewhere in the great baseball diamond in the sky, Bob Uecker is probably leaning back, laughing, and saying something about how he can’t believe he finally got to see this.
I can hear the celebration from here.
So, in the spirit of Field of Dreams, when someone asks, “Is this heaven?”
I’ll proudly answer:
No. It’s Milwaukee.
And we’re World Series champions.
Let’s go, Brewers!
Always have been. Always will be.
Once a Brewer fan, always a Brewer fan. 💙💛⚾
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