Letdown in Milwaukee

By David Marasco

Robert Fick owns the last hit in Tiger Stadium. It was a towering shot that bounced off of the right field roof for a grand slam. Cincinnati's Michael Tucker is down in the books for the last hit in Milwaukee County Stadium. It was a nubber to the first baseman, but since the Brewer's' Juan Acevedo didn't exactly hustle off the mound, Tucker reached safely. For all the happy memories I have of County Stadium, I wish I could write that the Brewers took out the old yard with in good fashion. But I can't. That's a shame because the faithful deserved better.

Let's get the game out of the way. Jeff D'Amico started for Milwaukee and plain didn't have it. Any hopes for an ERA title imploded as he was pounded by the Reds. The death blow was a three-run jack off the bat of Sean Casey, the last home run in County Stadium. That pushed the score to 6-0. While the Reds poured on the runs, the Brewers didn't do squat. Raul Casanova had a nice day at the plate with a double and a triple. The problem was that he was all of Milwaukee's attack. The rest of the team could not manage a hit or a walk off of Elmer Dessens, who pitched a complete game and faced only 29 hitters. Mark Lorreta grounded to short for the last out.

All season the Brewers have been counting down the games left in the stadium ala Cal Ripken and the Streak. This has been in the form of large cards posted on the mezzanine level down the left field line. After each game became official, some celebrity would remove a card, revealing the next smaller number underneath. For the final card pull Bud Selig himself did the honors. And he screwed it up. Instead of waiting for the "5,4,3,2,1..." countdown to complete, he yanked on five. Very anti-climactic. Compare that to the night before. When the time came the fans looked up to the mezzanine and saw a well-known face. Even from a distance of over a hundred yards people could still make out who it was. "Could that be? It is!" Hank Aaron. The was of recognition buzzed through the crowd like an electric current. Nobody at the game would forget the moment.

But maybe something like that would have been lost on Thursday's crowd. Milwaukee has a reputation for drunken rowdies. There was some element of that crowd at the final game. The people in front of me got tired of waiting for the soda vendor and gave their young children beer instead. Many fans were not really following the game. One of the loudest moments came when Olympian Ben Sheets was introduced to the crowd. The stands broke out into a rolling "USA! USA!" chant. That was roughly the mentality level of the crowd that day.

After a long wait the Brewers launched their postgame show. They brought out a beloved broadcaster to host the event, removed home plate for transplant to the new park, showed some highlight clips, brought out the past heroes, transferred the Brewers flag to a representative from the current team, and then turned off the stadium lights. Sound familiar? That's the exact set of events that Detroit used to close down Tiger Stadium last year. Bud was there, and I think that he spent the night scribbling on the back of an envelope.

But the entire thing had the feel of a student who skipped class and borrowed the notes from a classmate. When you do this you will often fail the final exam. The Brewers got the broad strokes right, but missed the details. The Tigers sent out their players to sappy music, whereas the Brewers announced their old players as they came onto the field. In Detroit it worked amazingly well. As each person took the field the camera would focus on his face. People in the stands would try to age their memories and figure out who the player was. Then the player ran past the camera, revealing the name on the back of the uniform as he did so. As the players were recognized the fans would respond with cheers for their old friends. In Milwaukee each player was given a brief biography before being called onto the field. It seemed less warm, as if each intro was followed by an applause sign. In Detroit each person brought their own memories to the players, whereas in Milwaukee the players were remembered by a reading from the stat book. The obvious exception to this was the last player, Robin Yount. He took the field on his motorcycle, rode around the perimeter, stopped in center field and then finally took his place at short stop. Even with the likes of Aaron, Spahn and Molitor already on the field, the chants of "MVP! MVP!" for Robin were well deserved.

In Detroit they had the team flag on the same pole as the American flag. To bring down the team flag they also had to lower Old Glory. With the deep nationalistic quality of baseball, tied in with the finality of the event, a descending American flag is a very powerful image. Many in Detroit broke down and were reduced to tears during the lowering. Milwaukee's transfer of the flag involved their mascot Bernie Brewer. He slid down his beer slide with the flag into the fake mug of beer, then handed over the flag to the next in the chain. Not exactly the same effect, is it? After the flag was given to Mark Loretta, they slowly turned down the stadium lights. In Detroit this quieted the crowd, a final reminder that this meant forever. When people left the ballpark, it was like leaving church after a powerful sermon. When they turned off the lights in Milwaukee, they followed it with a short fireworks display. That put a completely different spin on the mood. It was par for the course. Brewers management, as usual, dropped the ball.