There are three things I must tell you about myself.
The first is that I am a die-hard Wisconsin sports fan. After all, it’s impossible to be a fair-weather fan in a state that knows no such thing. America’s favorite pastime isn’t my favorite way to cheer on my home state, but when I saw Ty France hit that beautiful ball in the top of the ninth inning of Game 1 of the 2026 National League Division Series, my heart sank. It looked to me like a surefire go-ahead home run, and that meant trouble for the Brewers. Technically the game wouldn’t have been over, but any true Wisconsin sports fan knows our history of losing momentum when it matters most
But then, with a beautiful stroke of sheer chance, the ball came down right into the glove of Brewers left fielder Jackson Chourio. France’s beautiful game-changing hit had struck the roof cable at American Family Field above fair territory.
The second thing I have to tell you is that I know next to nothing about baseball. I’ve got the most basic rules down, I have a team (the Brewers, duh) and now that I have been in San Diego for three years, I can name you a whole three Padres players off the top of my head, which is enough to get me through most conversations on campus. But, if you start throwing any batting statistics at me or name a third-string pitcher, I’ll just start smiling and nodding as the conversation sails over my head like a pop-fly.
So when the ball hit the roof, I absolutely did not know what the call was going to be, and when the Padres challenged the out, I held my breath and crossed my fingers because I had no idea what the rules would say for my team.
The final thing I must admit about myself is that I have a (maybe not-so-secret) deep love for meaningless instigating. If I could, I would carry around a stick in my backpack just for more opportunities to “poke the bear.” So the upheld call, and the Brewers’ win, was pure gold for me.
Over the following days, my eyes seemed to be drawn to the sea of peers clad in brown and yellow Padres garb. Unabashedly, I took delight in opening a conversation with “sorry about the game,” listening and nodding to the gripping tale of how MLB technology should’ve prevented this horrific circumstance (which I knew nothing about), and then ending it with, “well, go Brewers,” and a grin.
I heard something along the lines of, “It’s so stupid, we have the technology to prove it, this shouldn’t exist,” more times the following day than I watched full games of baseball all season. I now know the MLB has the technology to prove the hit would’ve been a home run had it not hit the cable. However, the rules on the call remain up to what the stadium has previously established, so it went in Milwaukee’s favor.
Maybe it shouldn’t have happened, but it did and the Brewers capitalized on that momentum. And now, the Brewers have beat the LA Dodgers and are headed to the World Series for the first time since 1982. I don’t know much about baseball, but that doesn’t stop the pride I feel for my team, because it is about so much more than just the game for me.
Despite my lack of knowledge, the Brewers and baseball are important background characters in my childhood. Blue and yellow t-shirts decorate cherished memories that have nothing to do with the sport. I heard hometown announcers on car radios when carpooling to sports practices. I caught glimpses of games on TVs while we ran through friends’ living rooms to hide from our parents at the end of neighborhood barbecues. I dried my hands with Brewers themed kitchen towels while helping cook food for meal trains.
The Brewers are my team, but when I think of them, I think of my team back in Wisconsin: the people who are the reason I am even here in Padres territory. Any tie I have to the sport of baseball is intertwined with the community who supported the team, and supported me.
Something is brewing in Milwaukee, and I hope it’s a World Series title. But like I said, as a Wisconsin fan, you never truly can let go of your breath until the final out.
