Category Archives: Miller Park

Homestander: No Bones About It

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HomestanderEach Thursday preceding Brewers weekend home stands, Tyler Maas will help prepare fans for all elements of the upcoming series with the Homestander. Tyler prints Wisconsin-themed shirts at Forward Fabrics and contributes to such fine publications as Milwaukee Magazine and The A.V. Club Milwaukee. All views, naughty words and weirdo sentiments are his own. Follow him at @TylerJamesMaas.

I'm not afraid to admit it. In 2008, after a Ryan Braun home run essentially won the ever-important 162nd game of the Brewers season and FSN (as it was called at the time) stayed live to show fan reaction to the last out of the Mets collapse that landed the Brewers in the playoffs, I wept. I was 23 at the time and in (in true blogger form) in my mom's basement with my family... none of whom particularly care for the Brewers, especially when the rare feat got in the way of a week 4 Packers game. I'm sure it was an odd sight for them, but (as sad as it sounds) I'd never felt such joy in my life in relation to baseball.

I went to Game 5 of the NLDS in 2011. Vince and I shelled out $100 apiece for left field bleacher seats, and Vince quickly abandoned me to watch at Friday's out of nervous habit. When the Crew won in extra innings, I stifled a full-on man-sob as best I could, hugged and high-fived strangers as confetti rained down from the metallic heavens. A few tears cracked through my masculine veneer and rolled down my cheek as I scooped up come confetti and departed.

I swear I'm not that guy who cries over sports stuff usually. I'm aware of the invisible line in the sand that separates being a sports fan and being a sports nut. And I'm sure as hell not that guy who cries over anything. At least I wasn't. You'd think as you get older, it gets easier to hold one's emotions in check. To a certain extent, it does become more manageable to weather the constant blows of life's disappointments. But in another sense, the longer you live on Earth, the more you taken in, the more you're shaped and re-shaped, and the more your emotions are eroded and mutated in the waxing and waning of existence's high and low tides. Occasionally, something small or unexpected can just break you down. Or at least that's what I'm dealing with at 28.

If a Subaru commercial, a line from a Weakerthans song or some god damn sports moment from yet another World Series-less Milwaukee Brewers season can produce ocular moisture, I'm seriously afraid for my tear ducts when I become a father (and all subsequent dad moments), when I get married and when I lose a close friend or relative. This makes me a total wuss and I probably shouldn't have written it. But hey, I'll take the Brewers tears when I can get them. I'll just blame it on allergies or being way too drunk.

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Homestander: One Hand, No Hits

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HomestanderEach Thursday preceding Brewers weekend home stands, Tyler Maas will help prepare fans for all elements of the upcoming series with the Homestander. Tyler prints Wisconsin-themed shirts at Forward Fabrics and contributes to such fine publications as Milwaukee Magazine and The A.V. Club Milwaukee. All views, naughty words and weirdo sentiments are his own. Follow him at @TylerJamesMaas and watch him embarrass himself at Miller Park Drunk's Pants Party 3D on June 23.

In my 28-plus years on this planet, I'd estimate I've attended approximately 150 or so Major League Baseball games--roughly an entire season's worth of games. Thanks to proximity to the Miller Park, friends who love going to games and likely not being able to get a girl pregnant due to a perfect storm of looking as I do, binge-drinking Lo-Carb Monster and often resting my laptop on my crotch, I get to the park more than the average American. I mean, it's not like I'm in my mid- to late-40s and get to drive 200 combined miles 50 to 60 times a year to watch games alone while my spouse stays home with my kids, but I've still been pretty fortunate to witness as many baseball games as I have in my life.

In games I've attended, I've seen tons of Major League debuts, Prince Fielder and Rickie Weeks' first home runs (same game!), first hits, five stadiums in as many states, fist fights, dramatic game-winning plays, crippling bullpen collapses, a 40-something biker lady whip out a breast, the bottom of countless helmet bowls, a Brooks Kieschnick pinch hit HR, and enough people doing the wave to make me absolutely lose faith in humanity. I think I once saw Ken Macha move! I've seen some great things and am lucky to have a baseball stadium serve as the background to many of my most prevalent and joyus memories in my life. But there's one thing I've never seen that I desperately want to, and--no matter how many hundred additional games I attend--might never see: a no-hitter.

If my math is correct, there are 4,860 regular season no-hitter opportunities. Once the playoffs are through, MLB starting pitchers will have more than 4,900 combined chances to accomplish the feat. At this point, there have only been 279 no-hitters in MLB history (280 if Jim Joyce was never born), so it's admittedly not a very common event. Still, of all teams in baseball (excluding the Nationals, who are basically the Expos, which have four no-nos in their history), the Brewers and the Mets have the fewest. That Brewers no-hitter by Juan Nieves--which Bill Schroeder caught. I don't know if he's ever mentioned it--in 1987 is one less than the no-no tallies of the Brooklyn Superbas, Washington Senators and Providence Grays and five fewer than the St. Louis Browns--six fewer than Nolan Ryan on his lonesome. Someone named Steve Busby even tossed one more no-hitter than the entire Brewers franchise has. In fact, one was against Milwaukee.

Milwaukee has been no-hit thrice (1974, 1994 and 2007), but never in a home game when I was alive. Pitchers with Brewers connections, such as Chris Bosio, Hideo Nomo (twice) and Jim Abbott has tossed no-nos, but never in a Brew Crew uniform. Carlos Zombrano threw one at Miller Park when the hurricane-displaced Houston Astros were using it as the team's "Home" stadium and I almost went, but lived in Appleton at the time and decided against buying tickets the morning of. Really, to see a no-hitter is special because it's a perfect recipe of skill, luck, circumstance and a silently thickening atmosphere around the approaching milestone. Once a pitcher (Brewer or otherwise) tosses five clear frames at a game I'm attending, I allow myself to imagine that this might be the game I see my no-hitter and have a story about being there when some asshole like Eric Stults no hit my Brewers in a fairly meaningless contest. In the 9th, I'd openly root for an opposing pitcher to no-hit Milwaukee (excluding elimination games). I don't care. So in addition to the game itself and the periphery joys of tailgating, hearing "Return Of The Mack", seeing mini-milestones, gross boob flashing, 50/50 frozen margaritas and laughing when somebody fucks up a simple trivia question, I go and will continue to go to games with the unlikely, but ever-present hope of witnessing a no-hitter.

Unless it's Bronson Arroyo. Fuck that guy.

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Homestander: Funky Butt-Lovin’

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HomestanderEach Thursday preceding Brewers weekend home stands, Tyler Maas will help prepare fans for all elements of the upcoming series with the Homestander. Tyler prints Wisconsin-themed shirts at Forward Fabrics and contributes to such fine publications as Milwaukee Magazine and The A.V. Club Milwaukee. All views, naughty words and weirdo sentiments are his own. Follow him at @TylerJamesMaas.

It's no understatement to say that the internet is pretty cool. In my early childhood, the internet didn't exist. Around 1994, my dad brought home one of those AOL discs and his gigantic work laptop and we spent an hour downloading me pictures of Robert Brooks and George Teague. Growing up during the transitional period between rampant net-lessness and when everyone had the internet and used it constantly is special. I get to appreciate a "simpler" time before the internet in which people had to call people on land lines (or Zack Morris cell phones) to make plans to watch VHS tapes rented from video stores to watch on non-HD televisions while eating yogurt that wasn't in portable plastic tubes. It's a wonder we didn't die.

However, I also got to experience living in a world where I could make plans with girls in ways that didn't require awkwardly talking to dads. I got to watch internet evolve from dial up tones to optional high-speed upgrade to high-speed becoming the norm. We went from taking an hour to download a Len song on Napster to every song being available and, often, offered up by bands themselves. Don't even get me started on improvements in adult entertainment.

Now we live in a world where everyone has the internet and uses it constantly for everything. Embarrassing as it is, I met my girlfriend because of the internet, and that's becoming more and more acceptable (at least that's what people tell me as they slowly back away). I make the majority of my living through writing things for websites. I've seen thousands of cat memes. Memes is a word now. It's great. But with the internet being so prevalent, it's difficult to dodge the annoying tendencies of others. Between relatives with horrendous grammar, everyone from my past shitting out 5,000 kids and people littering my Facebook feed with political nonsense, it can be rough. But everyone has one Twitter follow or Facebook "friend" who takes the cake with their cringeworthy status updates. I'm probably that to person more than a few people, and I won't tell you who mine is, but his existence serves as a daily (at times hourly) reminder than there's someone out there who I'm better than.

So the next time you're retweeted by Taco John's, paying your bills in the middle of the night in your underwear, video-chatting with your friend in Japan, watching a replay of Blake Lalli's game-winning hit or Googling the name of the fat white kid on The Cosby Show (Peter, by the way), count your blessings for living in an age that offers us all these great things... as well as the ability to know that dude you worked with at a pizza place for four months in college is made a vegan stew tonight that was "yummers in [his] tummers." The good still outweighs the bad.

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Brewed For Her: A Stale Brew

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Wow. Just... wow.

Wow. Just... wow.

To say the Milwaukee Brewers haven't been doing a lot of things right lately is something of an understatement. Between the bullpen pitching like they owe the strike zone money, Carlos Gomez and Rickie Weeks' ongoing re-enactment of Weekend At Bernie's and Weekend At Bernie's 2 at the plate, and Ron Roenicke's apparent Punk-ing of John Axford by way of (attempted) multi-inning outings... things could be better. Yuniesky Betancourt is an everyday starter for Christ's sake! Excluding really cold games that allow lil' Yunie to look like a manbaby with his cherub cheeks poking through his ninja mask, that's never a good thing.

With all the bad things happening on the field so far this season, you'd think the organization would go above and beyond to ensure that other elements of the game experience are enjoyable enough to cancel out the sub-standard baseball games themselves. And to a point, the front office and PR department has succeeded in doing this. I mean, there's that awesome Briggs & Stratton roulette in-game promotion! Last week, a concession worker begrudgingly honored my request to mix both lime and strawberry-flavored margarita into my mug. Plus, Miller Park is just in time to ride that "Gangnam Style" wave.

However, the Brewers new "Brewed For Her" promotion is one of the worst, most poorly-thought, tone deaf attempts to get fans to the park I've seen since "Gary Sheffield effigy night" back in 1995.

For those fortunate enough to miss this soft-colored, heart-laden promo flyer, on May 25, Miller Park's Gehl Club will transform into a place for the LAAAAAAAAAYYDEEEEEZ!!!

Since women evidently aren't intelligent enough to be entertained by an unimpeded baseball game on its own, Brewed For Her aims to help distract women from hard-to-understand elements of this man's game and all its "points", "home's runs" and utter lack of Kardashians with a series of antiquated offerings such as:
• Style tips from fashion experts & 15 top merchandise vendors
• Special selection of women's Brewers apparel & accessories
• Interactive stations / demonstrations for hair & nails
• Gift bag filled with Brewers goodies
• Game ticket including food & beverage in the exclusive Gehl club

OH EM GEE!!! You mean for a mere $115, gurlz can get access to a closed off section--awesome usage of "exclusive" by the way to suggest watching the game from 600 feet away from behind a splotchy window is somehow VIP--of the park while indulging in some of the most generalized feminine activities ever?

Style tips from fashion experts? I'd love to be a fly on the wall to hear a Boston Store buyer take time from their day to tell women, "Tie a knot in that Aoki shirsey! And remember, pink is always a home run! Home run is a baseball term that is a positive thing, by the way." Demonstrations for hair & nails? "Adjustable caps, ladies. Cheaper than fitted hats and great for holding ponytails."

Unfortunately, there won't be enough time available for the lecture from an adjunct Alverno professor entitled "Spitting and Chewing Tobacco: Gross. But necessary?"

In short, I'm a dude and I find this to be incredibly sexist and offensive. Maybe in 1950s American society, a time that marginalized women and discouraged them from sports viewing, this would've had a place... barely. But we're living in a time where thousands of females are in fantasy baseball leagues, there's an array of talented and hardworking female reporters and columnists contributing to the baseball conversation and newscycle. I personally know a handful of ladies who know as much or more about the Brewers than I do. Unless there's a Brewed For Him game planned with equally predictable activities like "Shotgunning beers for dummies" and an "All you can meat bar... MEAT MEAT MEAT [grunt noise, fart]", I don't think this type gender-specific promotion has a place in a 2013 Major League baseball stadium.

I know some women will gladly attend this, and that's their right. Not all women love baseball, and I think (or hope) that's the demographic that Brewers PR was intending to hit when it came up with Brewed For Her. However, I think the shortsighted activities, the cringeworthy flyer design and the promotion's existence missed the mark entirely.

Front Row Amy Something Something

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This represents me touching on the Front Row Amy phenomenon. I guess?

Wednesdays game wasn't your usual Milwaukee Brewers contest.

No, no... they still lost. And, obviously, Travis Ishikawa managed to replicate the results of a slumping Ichiro Jones. The most sizable difference (well, two most sizable differences) between this Brewers/Reds rubber match and most other Miller Park home games was the person sitting just left of home plate in row one.

Hoping to capitalize on this phenomenon of assigned seating, this thing called Busted Coverage bought the seat Front Row Amy usually occupies and had the fucking balls to put ANOTHER ATTRACTIVE WOMAN IN AMY'S SEAT!!!

Quoth Busted Coverage:

"A few weeks ago while doing some research on the First Lady of Milwaukee baseball, we noticed that the infamous Front Row Amy was selling her seat to several Brewers’ games. She wouldn’t be attending. Had other plans. Suddenly the idea popped into my head. What if we replaced Front Row Amy with a hot chick of our choosing? How would Milwaukee react to a Playboy model sitting in Amy’s seat? Would there be a revolt?"

There was not a revolt. Maybe that was because the mid-week, afternoon game in early May wasn't televised, rendering all--we'll call it--planning for a shake-up for naught. But probably, it was because swapping one out-of-focus female fan's upper torso for another is meaningless. So good work, Busted Coverage. You've accomplished nothing.

Well, that's not entirely true. That poorly-thought promotion gives me the slightest window of timeliness to ask my beloved Brewer fan faithful once and for all... what's with this Front Row Amy business?

Before 800 of you direct your pent up sexual rage at me, allow me to clarify. I have absolutely nothing against "Front Row" Amy Williams. From what I know about her, she's a passionate, knowledgeable, devoted and uniquely-positive member of the Brewers fanbase. The team could benefit from having more fans with her spirit. She even keeps score for Christ's sake! And, yeah, she's very pretty.

What I do have a problem with, though, is the growing group of weirdos who've made Front Row Amy a household name around these parts, those who've contributed to all 2,000 minutes to what should've been 15 minutes of her fame, those whose obsession makes stupid Bro-motions like Wednesday's front row swap possible.

Maybe this makes me a Gaylord or whatever the proper homophobic terminology is these days, but when I turn on a Brewer game, I do so with the sole intent of watching a Brewer game. Fetching as Ms. Williams is (especially for a lady born in the 1960s!), nothing is gained or lost from her being in the front row. Call me crazy, but I'm more concerned with minor details like the score of the game, the latest ACL explosion, pitch counts, tavern of the game winners, that new fucker who horned his way into the Leinie's ads, drinking every time Rock says "bloop and a blast" and the myriad of everyday worries that manage to creep into my skull to even give a second thought to a woman in the stands.

Obviously, I'm in the minority, as Amy has accrued quite the fan base... even prompting special events and signings at shitty bars like The Bad Badger in Appleton. Again, I don't blame her a bit for capitalizing on the drool and boners of fellow fans. I'd do the same thing, likely with less tact.

I really hate to be so judgmental against the preferences of others, but I simply don't understand how the Front Row Amy phenomenon has both grown so huge and sustained this long. Call me old fashioned, but if I feel the need to squeeze off to some MILF's titties during a baseball broadcast, I'll pull up a Shayla Laveaux video on RedTube during a pitching change or something. You can literally see ANYTHING on the Internet--including boobs that aren't partially covered by a Brewers shirt. Better yet, you can make interpersonal moves in your life to better the chances a woman will permit you to actually touch her body.

Writing this has only perpetuated the legend of Front Row Amy. But if just one fan takes his or her fixation on blurry, clothed chest beefers looming in the front row and, instead, redirects that lust for Amy into hatred for that Happy Youngster dude, I've done my job.