Uecker Seats, Gritty Brats, and Warm Bathrooms

[Michael Trzinski]

A long time ago, in a galaxy very near—before many, if not all the writers of Brewer Fanatic were even born—the Milwaukee Brewers were created from a team that had previously been the Seattle Pilots. Long story short, on Mar. 31, 1970, the financially plagued Seattle Pilots were sold to Bud Selig and the Milwaukee Brewers Baseball Club, Inc. for $10.8 million.

Image courtesy of © Rick Wood/Milwaukee Journal Sentinel / USA TODAY NETWORK

Almost immediately, the 10-year-old me became a fan. I possessed a very high-tech piece of equipment called a transistor radio. I fell asleep many late nights that summer with the radio under my pillow, turned way down low, listening to the dulcet tones of announcers Merle Harmon and Tom Collins.

Although a fan, I didn’t attend my first game until 1978, after I had graduated from high school. On July 8, the New York Yankees took on the Brewers. The Brewers were trailing 5-4 in the bottom of the eighth, when Larry Hisle came to the plate against Goose Gossage. Hisle had already hit a homer off Gossage two innings prior.

With two outs and Robin Yount on first in front of a crowd of 46,518, my friends and I stood in the very farthest corner of County Stadium, the uppermost deck in right field. (It was almost the exact place that Bob Uecker made famous in a Lite Beer commercial in 1984.) Hisle hammered a ball toward right field, and we could see right fielder Lou Piniella racing toward the wall. Because of where we were sitting (standing) we lost sight of both Piniella and the ball, but when County Stadium erupted into bedlam, we knew it was a home run. The Brewers ended up with a 6-4 victory. Not bad for my first game.

In 1984, my first wife and I went to County Stadium on July 6 for a doubleheader with Oakland. In the first game, right fielder Davey Lopes (in what might have been foreshadowing of his disastrous Brewers managing career) caught a line drive… with his face. The ball glanced off his glove and hit Lopes on the left cheek. He missed a month with an eye injury. My wife and I had a good time at the games, even though Oakland swept the doubleheader. Eight and one-half months later, my oldest son was born.

I started working at a paper mill in central Wisconsin in 1985 (five days after my son was born), and I became friends with a few co-workers who were huge baseball fans. For the next five or six years, our gang went to Opening Day every year. That was back in the days when your tickets arrived by mail, and you could always get tickets.

One year, “Steve” had worked the 11-7 shift, and we picked him up at 8 AM. After his first beer in the car, he passed out. We pulled into the parking lot three hours later, and (of course) we pulled out the Weber ‘Little Smokey’ grill and the cooler of adult beverages. To stay awake, Steve volunteered to be grill master.

After being harassed for his ineptitude on the grill, Steve attempted to expedite things by opening the dampers on the bottom. Unfortunately, the dampers were stuck, and when Steve pushed harder, the grill tipped over and the dozen brats and burgers that were on the grating spilled onto the oily, greasy parking lot. Peals of laughter rang out. Our gang ended up eating brats and burgers that were a bit gritty, but didn’t taste too bad otherwise. Steve’s banner day would continue inside the stadium.

In the second inning, Steve was gone for a long time. The day was cold, with the temp in the upper 30s. I had to go to the bathroom, and as I opened the door I saw Steve, leaning against the wall under a heater—fast asleep. I woke him up, and we went back to our seats. Three innings later, again: no Steve. Guess where I found him?

Robin Yount was chasing 3,000 hits in 1992. My second wife and I bought tickets for the September 8 game against Cleveland. ‘Rockin’ Robin’ belted hit 2,999 off Jack Armstrong in the first inning and went hitless in four more trips. The next day, Yount pounded out his 3,000^th hit against the Indians’ José Mesa in a game we couldn’t attend. So close, yet so far away.

Other memories…

• Watching Texas Rangers pitching coach Tom House and his pitchers throwing footballs around in the outfield before the game.
• Getting off a ‘bar bus’ and immediately going to the ‘Speed Pitch’ and without warming up, throwing 81 on my second toss. My arm was never the same after that.

My friends and I had some great times at County Stadium, and I miss that baseball edifice built in the early 50s. Miller Park was great, and our group got to see the first game there in 2001 and saw George W. Bush throw out the first pitch. We also went to the Home Run Derby in 2002, prior to the infamous 7-7 All-Star Game tie.

I like the new park, but in my mind, it will never compare to County Stadium.

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