After the Brewers clinched the pennant, the first person I reached out to was my dad.
My father was born and raised in Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin. He’s been a Brewers fan his entire life, no doubt a consequence of coming of age during the franchise’s glory years in the late ’70s and early ’80s. When I was a kid, he’d tell me about (and show me highlights of) players like Robin Yount, Paul Molitor, Sal Bando, and Rollie Fingers.
In 1982, he was 15, and the Brewers were the best team he’d ever seen. Yount was at short, Molitor at third, Gantner at second, and his cousin Tom was Bernie Brewer. If he had friends he wanted to impress, he’d have Tom wave at him from the top of the slide.
My dad had been going to games at Milwaukee County Stadium for years thanks to his uncle, who would take him whenever he didn’t have school. But that fall, his sister took him to see the Brewers play the Angels in the ALCS. The Brewers beat the Angels, but they went on to lose the World Series to the Cardinals in seven games. I asked him whether that loss took the air out of him.
“If anything, it made me more of a fan,” he said. The Brewers were still a great team, one of the best in baseball, and to him, it looked like they had what it took to win a World Series. They’d make it back soon enough.
But slowly, those late ’70s and early ’80s Brewers teams fell apart. While Yount and Molitor remained, Gorman Thomas and Don Money were gone by the end of the ’83 season, Don Sutton by the end of ’84, Fingers by ’86, and Ben Oglivie by ’87.
From 1988 to 2007, the Brewers won 90 games just once and finished under .500 more often than not. As my dad got older, his fandom faded a little, too. He went to college, moved away, and spent much of those 20 years working, preoccupied with more immediate concerns than the Brewers’ record. Baseball is magical, but it’s easier to see the magic when you’re a kid. He never stopped being a fan, but the love he’d had for those late ’70s and early ’80s teams didn’t quite return. Not until I came along.
He showed me the Brewers, and somewhere along the way, I fell in love with them on my own.
We visited family in Milwaukee in 2007, and my dad took me to a game at Miller Park, the first baseball game I ever saw in person. Rickie Weeks hit a walk-off single, and that was it: I was officially a Brewers fan, too. What my dad felt as a kid watching Yount and Molitor, I felt watching Prince Fielder, Ryan Braun, Yovani Gallardo, and Rickie Weeks.
And because I cared about the Brewers, he started caring about them again, too. When he’d pick me up from school or take me to practice, he’d already have the Brewers game on the radio. He’d given me the team. Without meaning to, I gave it back.
I was six years old in 2008, the year my dad really got back into the Brewers. He remembers the CC Sabathia trade fondly, as many fans do. CC only pitched half a season in Milwaukee, but that run was unforgettable. More than that, as my dad put it, it was the “first time in (his) memory that he ever saw the Brewers go after a big name midseason.” That team felt different from the teams that came before it.
As I fell in love with Fielder, Braun, Nyjer Morgan, and the 2011 squad, he did too. That team didn’t make it to the World Series, and neither did the 2018 team or the 2025 team, but our love for the Brewers never wavered. Whether or not the Brewers were doing well, we made a point of watching every game we could together.
Sometimes that meant complaining about the roster and praying for a .500 season, and sometimes it meant hoping the Brewers would finally make it back to the World Series. As every season ended in heartbreak, some more than others, the hope my dad had had for the 1982 team stayed with him, and with me. Someday, maybe next season, they’d be back in the World Series.
Now, for the first time since my dad was 15, the Brewers are back in the World Series. This year’s team is also different. My dad, who watched the ’82 team in person, says it’s the most fun Brewers team he’s ever seen. He loves Pat Murphy and thinks Murphy has them playing “as a team” more than any other version of the Brewers he’s seen. No one player is bigger than the team, and no one lets his ego change the dynamic. No matter who’s in the starting lineup, it’s all the Brewers. He loves the small ball, too: “four hits in an inning instead of waiting around for someone to hit a homer.”
I asked him what it would mean if they finally won it.
“Like many people have said: just one before I die.”
I’m in my hometown for the playoffs for the first time since 2019, so I’ve been watching almost every game with him at my parents’ house. As is often the case with parents, my dad and I don’t always know what to say to each other. When the Brewers are on, we never have to figure it out.
It turns out that works with strangers, too. During last year’s playoffs, I met a guy wearing a Brewers hat in an airport in Portugal, of all places. We were both jet-lagged and tired, but we immediately flashed each other a smile and struck up a conversation about the team. We didn’t have to explain anything. We both knew about 1982, 2011, 2018, the Cardinals, the Cubs, and the Dodgers, and we all know how rare this is.
I wasn’t home for the clincher. I was at the game in Los Angeles. After the final out, I was outside Dodger Stadium high-fiving people I’d never met and will never see again. I saw Yount jerseys, Braun jerseys, Morgan jerseys, Ben Sheets jerseys. Even a Norichika Aoki jersey. In Los Angeles. For a franchise that’s never won a World Series, fans find each other.
It was the first postseason game I’d ever been to; I was both elated to be there and sad I couldn’t watch it with him. So I texted him from the Dodger Stadium bleachers. He wrote back:
“So glad you got to see it. So sad I am not with you.”
“Here in spirit,” I responded.
I’m grateful to the Brewers for always giving me a reason to reach out to him. I’ll be watching every World Series game with him, hoping he gets to see one before he dies. This time, I’ll be there in person.
Because for us, and for so many Brewers fans, the Brewers are more than just a baseball team.