Being a boy growing up in Milwaukee in the late ’60’s, ’70’s, and 1980’s, there were few things that influenced you in an instant, that changed the direction of your life forever. There were four of those for me. Here are my first two;
1. Baseball: In 1969 the Seattle Pilots became an American League team. That only lasted one year there. I was too young to remember when the Braves left town in 1965, but I do remember hearing how heartbroken the city of Milwaukee was. Wisconsinites love their sports teams, and when the Braves left Milwaukee for Atlanta, this was a hard steel-toed kick to the emotional groin that some loyal fans just could not recover from.
The pledge to never attend or watch another baseball game….ever….period (especially those GD Braves in Atlanta) was heard throughout town. I was turning seven when the Pilots became the Brewers in 1970. I remember my Dad taking me to one of their first games of the season. Jumping into our olive green Buick LeSabre, sitting in traffic awaiting entry to the parking lot, and finally entering the short tunnels up to the stands at Milwaukee County Stadium was like walking up a ramp to heaven…..it was thrilling!
My Dad bought a Brewers Yearbook to keep score (which he always did for the hundreds of other games we went to since). He bought me a hat and and banner to hang on my wall, (which it did for years). Sitting in the stands with my Dad was absolutely glorious, and for that moment as a seven year old kid, life couldn’t get any better than that.
2. The Green Bay Packers: I was too young to remember the “Glory Years” of the Packers domination in the 1960’s. As a kid, Sundays in Milwaukee consisted of; Waking up, getting dressed, going to church, stopping at Grebe’s Bakery for ham and rolls, coming home, eating brunch, and watching AWA All-Star Wrestling from 11-12am hoping that the self proclaimed “Milwaukee’s Favorit Son” the Crusher would be wrestling. Go ahead, Google him…..he was a beer swilling fun loving crazy guy that we loved to watch beat the crap out of guys such as Ray Stevens and Nick Bockwinkle. This was way before Hulk Hogan and the other nutjobs in the WWE.
Then at noon, my Dad would sit down on the couch with a freshly opened bottle of PBR (sometimes my uncles would come over) and prepare to watch the Packers with him. Now at this time, the Packers had lost most of their great players from the ’60’s due to retirement, or trades since Saint Vince Lombardi had left in 1969 to coach the Washington Redskins….a sad, sad time in Wisconsin. The early ’70’s teams kind of just slagged along, trying to live up to our expectations, and failing miserably. That however did not stop us from continuously, loyally, cheering them on with players such as the legendary Bart Starr, Ray Nitchke, and the awesome running backs John Brockington and MacArthur Lane. They still provided a glimmer of hope to bring us another championship season and a 3rd Superbowl.
Watching my Dad adjust himself on the sofa, preparing for his three hour screamfest at our massive 20 inch screen black and white TV set was always fun to observe. At halftime, my Mom would walk into the living room handing my Dad another beer and setting up a TV tray with potato chips, pretzels, or my Dad’s favorite Ma Baensch herring and Ritz crackers. It was comical watching Dad and sometimes my uncles bending over their plates with those tiny herring forks, slapping a gelatinous square of fishy goodness on a Ritz, and gobbling them up like it was their last meal.
Now watching the Packers play on Sunday wasn’t just a game, it was a ritual that takes place to this day. Traffic in Wisconsin during a Packer game is non-existent. A guy being seen out in public doing anything other than watching the game, was instantly observed as someone from out of town. How dare you be from Wisconsin and be seen walking in the mall or any other store unless it was the hardware store where you had to buy something to fix something at home that needed immediate attention; (ie: broken water heater, furnace, garbage disposal, or anything on the car or roof)….then and only then were you excused, but by God you better be listening to the game on WTMJ radio (62 on your AM dial).
If you went to 11:00am mass on Sunday at a catholic church in Wisconsin on game day, you were almost guaranteed a short service with the priest shortening his sermons to 3 minutes or less, sometimes during an important game he would tell the congregation outright , “there will be no sermon today” (with no explanation necessary) and we would be out the door in 35 minutes.
Is it wrong to pray for a short mass? Does cheering whispers of “YES” throughout the church when finding out you are at a ”No Sermon Mass” automatically inch you another step closer to hell? I can imagine the collection plates being a little extra heavy and more silent, filled with paper money stained with fingerprints of appreciation from all the men. You have to be from, or living in Wisconsin to understand this.
Now God forbid if the Packers lost, there is an unwritten rule in Wisconsin; “You NEVER talk about the game ever again!” Being at your job the following Monday was like being at a funeral parlor, you walk slowly to where you need to go, quietly nodding Good Morning to your co-workers, and going about your business in silence……but if the Packers won!…..there was screams of jubilation that could be heard as far away as those God Forsaken cities Chicago and Minneapolis! Games were joyfully discussed at Sunday dinner and far into the night. I have no doubt that after each Packer win, the population in Wisconsin increased 9 months later.
Listening to Sports Talk Radio on the way to work Monday morning, hearing the DJ’s break down the game into minute increments of gratification that carried you through the work day and again into the night. By Tuesday, you started mentally preparing yourself and the Packers for the next game, examing player stats for the opposing team, and praying for mid-week injuries to occur to their best players.
To some people, the Packers are a way of life. You just don’t go outside anywhere unless you are properly attired in some form of Green and Gold. Male babies are born with names of our favorite players, they leave the hospitals adorned in a tiny green and gold stocking cap, and then their proud fathers put them on the waiting list for season tickets which at this time has over 81,000 names on it. Most likely one will never obtain a Season Ticket in their lifetime unless you either inherit it, or by the grace of God, someone sells theirs to you…..and that would mean this wonderful person has no next of kin to offer this amazing gift to.
Do I love my Packers?………with all my heart!!