The Things We Do to Pass the Time

Funny what a baseball game can bring back. After last night's final out, of all the things I could have been thinking about, my mind wandered to a little bar in Oshkosh and an argument from the summer of 2001.

That summer, my best friend Greg and I worked together, lived together, and spent nearly every waking hour together. We were basically George and Jerry from Seinfeld, except nobody was filming and neither of us was quite as entertaining. Eventually we ran out of things to talk about, so we started arguing about things that didn't matter.

Like a bar called Pas-Time.

We drove past it often and could never agree on the name. Was it a place where people went to pass the time? Or was it a pastime, something familiar that people loved and kept coming back to? I don't remember which of us took which side. I do remember that neither of us was willing to lose. I'm not even sure the place is still there, but that argument never really left me.

At the Panther Pub, I think I finally understand it. People walk through the doors to watch a game, catch up with friends, or kill an hour on an ordinary Thursday. What they don't know is that those ordinary hours have a way of becoming the ones we'd give anything to have back. Greg and I were both right.

Maybe living in Greendale makes me more sentimental about that sort of thing. There's something about our Village—its storefronts, sidewalks, and familiar faces—that feels like a Norman Rockwell painting nobody ever took down. It's a place where the present has a way of reminding you of the past. And for me, the past usually sounds like a Wisconsin summer.

Up north at the cabin, screen doors slammed, boat motors hummed across the lake, and the air smelled of pine trees, campfires, and stale beer. I was the kid stomping empty PBR and Wildwood Soda cans flat so we could haul them to the recycling center and turn them into a few dollars. From somewhere inside came the crackle of a radio and Uecker calling another Brewers game.

That voice was part of everything. In the car, through an open window, at the cabin while the grown-ups talked and the kids invented ways to get in trouble. Win or lose, Uecker made it feel like summer in Wisconsin. Nobody told us to remember those days. We were too busy living them.

Only later do you realize the people around the picnic table won't always be there. The screen doors eventually stop slamming. And even the voice on the radio can go quiet.

And then a baseball game brings it all rushing back.

Last night the Brewers erased a four-run deficit, swept the Dodgers, and reached the World Series for the first time since 1982. The year I was born. For as long as I can remember, 1982 was a story other people told about the Brewers. Now, finally, we have one of our own.

Against all that money and star power, our guys simply kept playing. Taking the extra base. Making the play. Picking each other up. Refusing to go away. Pat Murphy said it best after the game:

“They may have a bunch of Hall of Famers, but we've got a bunch of gamers.”

Maybe that line hit so hard because it sounds like Wisconsin. We don't always have the biggest names or the deepest pockets. But we believe in showing up, doing the work, looking after the people beside us, and earning what we get. It's how we see our state, our neighbors, and the teams we grow up loving.

And in the middle of all the celebrating, there was one voice I missed more than any other.

Uecker.

I'd give anything to hear him call that final out. To hear the excitement rise, maybe a laugh slip through, before he found just the right words. In my mind, I can almost hear him. And suddenly I'm back at the cabin, the screen door is slamming, and there's nothing in the world I need to do but listen.

I suppose that's why I've carried that old argument with Greg for so long. We thought we were finding ways to fill an afternoon. We were actually making a memory that would last a lifetime.

And sometimes, if we're lucky, baseball gives us a little of it back.

So as the Brewers head to the World Series, come join us at Greendale's Panther Pub & Eatery. Pull up a chair, watch the game, raise a glass, and pass a little time with us. One day, these may be the nights we'll wish we could have back.

And somewhere, I hope Ueck has the best seat in the house.