Finally. . .

My favorite baseball player of all time is Hank Aaron. Besides his incredible on the field accomplishments, his career (and life) is a story of inspiration. His number 44 hangs high above the field, looking down on the baseball enthusiasts who attend Milwaukee Brewers baseball games.

Similarly, a microphone honoring the life and times of Mr. Baseball, Bob Uekcer, hangs up there alongside Hammerin’ Hank’s 44. Uecker spent his career entertaining fans with his quips and quibbles. His unique storytelling and self-deprecation served as the sound of summer, especially in the many lean years of Milwaukee Brewers baseball.

As i sat with my family at the 2026 NLCS game 4 watch party, I was flooded with memories of these two baseball legends. But more than that, I was brought back to memories of my dad and his dedication to my love of baseball. We would play nightly wiffleball games in the front yard where I constantly manipulated the rules in my favor. Years were spent taking me to my Tose Little League games at parks throughout my hometown. Many days and dollars were spent seeing games at County Stadium and collecting baseball cards at local card shops.

He loved the Brewers as much as I did. He thoroughly enjoyed Uecker. We would listen to games whole we played wiffleball as very few games were televised. I recall histing to get a few extra pitches in while local advertisements larded on a portable black radio that followed us around the yard. When Uecker’s voice returned, it was a timeout as we could cheer on the Crew.

I know that he (along with Hank and Bob) are smiling down on my family, not just because our favorite team is going to the World Series, but because our love of baseball unites us.

My wife reminds me to use our Kwik Trip points to get seats for any available games we can attends. My oldest daughter is always checking in on when the game is and who we are laying, My middle child is adding Brewers crafts to her art obsession and having fun cheering on her favorite players. My son is a mirror of myself, collecting cards and memorizing statistics and jersey numbers.

It feels surreal that we wereable to “attend “ a clinching game as a family. Sometimes, it felt like it would never happen. But it did. . .finally.