How Much is Enough?

Dearest football fan,

Is Aaron Rodgers one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game, or is he an all-time postseason choke artist?

Have the Packers wasted three decades with a first ballot Hall of Famer under center, or are two Super Bowl victories enough to call the last 30 years a success?

First, the Packers.

I grew up watching the NFL with my older brother Pete and my football loving father, Ed. Pops was born in Iron Mountain, Michigan back in 1950, which meant he was old enough to live through the glory years with St. Vince and the boys, and lucky enough to not be a Detroit Lions fan. While the vast majority of Yoopers in Iron Mountain identify as Packer fans, some families up there actually support the Lions, and they should all be ashamed of themselves.

Anyways, my earliest football memory was not, in fact, with the Green Bay Packers, but with presidential politics. I clearly remember my Pops turning slightly annoyed whenever Jimmy Carter interrupted Monday Night Football with an update on the Iran hostage situation: Pops always made some sort of grand empathetic speech to his too-young-to-fully-understand sons supporting Jimmy Carter’s handling of the situation, but it was pretty clear to everyone in the living room that Pops wanted the game back on as soon as possible.

Other early NFL memories include Jim Plunkett and the Raiders defeating the Eagles in Super Bowl XV, cheering for the 49ers in Super Bowl XVI after watching The Catch, and my Grandma Vi complaining about Lynn Dickey hitting the deck for yet another sack every time a defender breathed on him.

Suffering through years and years of shitty Packer teams with David Whitehurst, Lynn Dickey, and Randy Wright at the helm pushed me to become a temporary 49ers fan during Montana and Rice’s heyday. It was only when the Majik Man made miracles happen during the 1989 season that I was officially ordained as a diehard Packer fan.

The Cardiac Pack narrowly missed the playoffs with a 10-6 record that year — easily their best season in my lifetime. This gave the entire Packer Nation hope that our darkest years were finally behind us. Side note: Don Majkowski’s 1989 Packer team still holds the NFL record for most one-point victories in a season (4).

From then on, I’ve lived blissfully with every game winning field goal, and died painfully with every fourth-quarter defensive collapse. Some defeats (like Seattle in 2015, Tampa in 2021, and San Francisco in 2022) will scar my Packers’ soul for all my remaining days.

No doubt, my fandom peaked on January 26, 1997, when the Packers finally won a Super Bowl. After years and years of humiliation and heartbreak, Brett Favre, Reggie White, and LeRoy Butler firmly planted the capital G back on the NFL’s summit.

At the time, the ecstasy of winning that long awaited Super Bowl was palpable statewide. From my immediate family to strangers on the street, the entire Packer Nation felt like we climbed that mountain together. Through all the turmoil (like annual blowouts against Dallas), and through all the needless suffering (like drafting Tony Mandarich over Barry Sanders, Derrick Thomas and Deion Sanders), we finally did it, just like we believed we could!

However . . .

Shortly after the confetti stopped flying and toes from the bitterly cold victory parade thawed (no, I wasn’t there), I discovered a profound emptiness deep within my non-Packers’ soul. After the dopamine rush faded, the communal ecstasy of high-fiving strangers at the mall inevitably turned into another cold-as-fuck February depression. I came to the stark realization that I personally didn’t do shit to help the Pack reach the summit!

I, in fact, did not win a Super Bowl along with Don Beebe, Jim McMahon, and Andre Rison. I watched them do it from my parents’ couch while eating chips and drinking Wild Cherry Pepsi. I was a 21-year-old, slightly overweight college-student addicted to chocolate milk, Cool Ranch Doritos, and Camel Lights. I had never been in love, and I didn’t have any semblance of a plan for my life after college. Bottom line: I wasn’t getting paid a dime to play professional football, so I better find something other than a Packers’ Super Bowl to fulfill that noticeable void.

In my heart of hearts, I knew that emptiness could only be filled by one thing:

Huffing glue.

Or maybe environmental activism was the key to fulfillment.

How about dedicating my life to becoming the greatest bobsled pilot America has ever seen?

That would do the trick, right?

In all seriousness, my post-Super Bowl epiphany changed my entire worldview and led directly to my current position in the universe with its many blessings. I peeled myself off my parents’ couch, dusted off the Dorito crumbs from the hoodie I wore everyday (but never washed), and I started to manifest my own destiny.

I finally realized that only I held the keys to my future happiness, and only I had the power to transcend depressions when unhappiness and general malaise set in.

I know. How boring.

How anti-climatic.

Using my platform as the greatest American bobsled pilot of all-time to promote my environmental agenda would’ve been much more exciting, especially if it all came crashing down after TMZ exposes me as a reckless glue huffer.

I digress.

Reflecting on those abysmal 80’s teams leads me to a strong conclusion that the last 30 years of mostly Packer victories on Sundays, and two unforgettable flag plants on the summit, are indeed a massive success.

Maybe the glory days are over. Maybe the Packers will regress to the mean and I’ll spend my remaining decades suffering through countless defeats and the false hope of yet another young signal caller who fails to escape the gigantic shadows cast by Rodgers and Favre.

If that is indeed our fate as a Packer Nation, so be it. It is better to have love and lost, than to never have loved at all (see Detroit and Minnesota).

It is better to reach the summit and live to tell the story, than to die trying.

Speaking of Rodgers . . .

Maybe he doesn’t sleep well before playoff games. Maybe he secretly hates playing in the cold.

Maybe he puts so much pressure on himself to be perfect that he doesn’t throw caution to the wind and play like there’s no tomorrow.

Maybe he tries so hard to be perfect because he’s always saddled with a mediocre (at best) defense, and a special teams unit who has never been worthy of the adjective ‘special’.

Maybe Rodgers is indeed a choke artist who freezes when the lights are brightest. Maybe he’s a modern day Dan Marino or Charles Barkley: Another historically great regular season superstar who just can’t win the big game.

I might agree with that assessment, BUT RODGERS WON THE SUPER BOWL IN 2011, AND HE HAPPENED TO BE THE MVP!

Christ, Rodgers is already a certified world champion! The historical record proves this!

Is one Super Bowl enough?

How about two in 30 years?

How much is enough?

My old Industrial Sociology professor proposed this very question right around the time the Packers were crowned champions back in 1997:

How much is enough?

The professor was from India and extremely difficult to understand at first, but once I acclimated to his speech patterns, he ended up being one of my favorite lecturers.

His conclusion was, in the West, too much was never enough.

Made sense to me.

He often brought up the Machiavellian ethos of an ‘any means possible’ amorality to achieve this greed.

Moral/amoral, legal/illegal: doesn’t matter.

The ends always justify the means.

Again, made perfect sense to me.

Hashtag: Modern Politics.

Hashtag: Big Pharma.

Back to Rodgers. The Packers were 13-3 this year in games he started and finished. They won a bunch of close games mainly because of his unique talents and vast experience. He just won back to back MVP awards and his fourth overall. Regardless of what happens next, he will go down as one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game. Period.

In this year’s playoff debacle, the Pack lost a close game because of a blocked field goal, a blocked punt, and Marcedes Lewis’ first lost fumble since the Obama administration.

I’ve been watching NFL football games religiously since the Carter administration. I don’t ever recall witnessing a blocked punt and a blocked field goal in the same game, and certainly not in the playoffs!

What the hell was that?

Scapegoating Rodgers for this most recent postseason loss is weak and lazy and the organization knows it.

Find a way to bring him back. Any means possible. Lord only knows where this team is without him.

Is one Super Bowl enough?

I argue, yes.

Is two in the last 30 years enough?

I argue, yes.

Is that a loser mentality, or is it the mentality of a man who lives with the scar of watching The Refrigerator Perry score his first touchdown on Monday Night Football against another hapless, overmatched Packers squad. A squad who couldn’t even imagine sniffing the playoffs, let alone shuffling to the Super Bowl.

What’s the mark of a champion?

One title?

Two?

Seven?

How much is enough?

Sincerely,

Joe

P.S.

Losing AJ Dillon in the Niner shitshow hurt the offense a ton. As the conditions deteriorated, their mudder was buried in a coat on the sidelines. Getting hurt on a special teams play added insult to injury.

P.P.S.

All four of my fantasy football teams were buried in mediocrity this year. In my 30-year-old best ball keeper league, I drafted Gus Edwards just before he was lost for the season, and I selected Allen Robinson in Round 3 thinking he’d be my WR1. Despite drafting Cooper Kupp, Deebo Samuel, Micah Parsons, and Trevon Diggs, my team never took flight. It was a monumental disappointment coming off a championship season.

I drafted Saquon in my two Yahoo leagues (‘nuff said), and in my dynasty league I inherited a team with CEH as my RB1.

Thanks for reading.

Go Pack Go!

Bucks in 6! (Bucks’ obit for 2017-2018 season)

Bucks’ fan,

Let me start by saying I believe in the Milwaukee Bucks and I believe in Joe Prunty.

How much so?

Not only do I believe the Bucks will defeat Boston in round one, I firmly believe they can beat the Sixers in round two (with or without Embiid), and, if that happens to happen, watch the fuck out.

I firmly believe the Milwaukee Bucks are talented enough to get smoked by Houston or Golden State in the NBA Finals.

Here’s why:

1. Giannis Antetokounmpo:

Historically, the playoffs bring out his best. No Twitter, no Instagram, and with significant downtime in-between games, Giannis will be fully rested and fully invested in each possession.

It’s become pretty obvious that Giannis is one the NBA’s ten best players: His free throw shooting has improved, his defensive energy is contagious, and, no matter who they play, he’ll be the best player on the floor until he runs into LeBron.

2. Joe Prunty:

Without much credit, the Greg Popovich disciple has fixed many of the Bucks’ defensive issues. He’s clearly a better game coach than Kidd because he calls necessary timeouts, substitutes appropriately, and, because he’s fighting for his NBA head-coaching life, he’s going to fight tooth and nail to survive and advance.

Sorry, Jason Kidd. Despite your deficiencies as a game coach, I think you got the raw end of the deal, here (much like Ned Yost).

I think your positive influence on the young Bucks continues to be immeasurable. Considering the schedule, you would’ve ended the regular season with the exact same record as Joe Prunty.

No doubt, you were the victim of the NBA’s ridiculous insistence on a ridiculously long 82 game regular season. I hope you can come back and give them a speech or two. I sincerely think they’d appreciate it. Shit, sit at the end of the bench for a few games. It might help them beat the Cavs.

Back to Smoking Joe Prunty.

I can see it now: The Milwaukee Bucks advance to the NBA Finals and Joe Prunty signs a four year contract in the days leading up to Game #1. Every once in a while he invites Jason Kidd back to the team.

3. The Bench:

The Bucks finally have everyone healthy. Jabari Parker and Malcolm Brogdon could start for a host of NBA teams, Dellavedova and Terry are playoff tested vets with Finals experience, and Thon Maker was a difference maker in last years playoff series against Toronto. Also, don’t sleep on Shabazz Muhammad. Dude was lights out down the stretch this year.

4. Khris Middleton. (Enough said.)

5. The East sucks:

If there’s a year for a #7 seed to win the East, it’s this year.

No one is afraid of Toronto (Milwaukee included), Boston is without Hayward, Smart, and Kyrie (Brad Stevens can only do so much), and the 76ers are the least experienced team in the East.

And if the Bucks are blessed enough to make it to the Eastern Conference Finals, they’ll face a LeBron James who is inhabiting his weakest supporting cast since his first stint in Cleveland.

LeBron only fights when he thinks he can win. Once doubt creeps in, he’ll phone it in and quit. Dude’s been to seven consecutive Finals. If there’s a year that streak ends, it’s this year.

6. Eric Bledsoe is rounding into form and playing his best ball of the season.

7. It’s the playoffs: If Jabari isn’t playing defense or if his shot is off, he won’t be playing. If his shot is on and he’s crashing the boards, he can win games.

8. Bradley Center playoff crowds are some of the loudest in the NBA.

9. The ridiculous NBA regular season is ridiculously too long:

Because of this, the Bucks’ have suffered through bouts of inconsistent defensive effort (especially with three’s), nonexistent rebounding effort (especially with John Henson and Thon Maker), and a general lack of continuity and focus (especially with everyone).

Now that every quarter and every possession actually means something, I’m expecting maximum effort and increased focus. When the Bucks play team defense and attack the boards (ESPECIALLY OFFENSIVE BOARDS), good things usually happen.

10. I’m drunk.

Bucks in six,

Joe

P.S.

I honestly think Milwaukee wins the Boston series handily. The Sixers series will be an epic 80’s style 7-game struggle. Middleton wins it with a fadeaway game winner.

P.P.S.

THANKS TO MY BROTHER ANTON FOR ALL THE BUCKS’ GAMES THIS YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.P.P.S.

BUCKS IN SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.P.P.P.S. Obviously, Bledsoe and the Bucks shit the bed against the Celtics in the first round. I’m using this as my Buck’s obit for the 2017-2018 season.

No Harm, No Foul

What you’re about to read (or, more likely, stop reading about a quarter of the way through) is a word-for-word collection of text messages I sent out during the Milwaukee Bucks brief stay in the bubble.

Other than a brief statement here in my intro, I offer zero political or social justice commentary, and not one word on COVID 19.

I’m just a true-believer Bucks’ fan commenting, criticizing, and ultimately crying to my friends and brothers about meaningful Bucks’ basketball.

It’s unfiltered gut-wrenching heartbreak wrapped in another Wisconsin sports disappointment as it became painfully obvious Giannis and Co. weren’t raising the Larry O’Brien this year.

This is my annual Buck’s Obituary. You can read the other ones here:

Bellykingbelly.com

The other obits wrote themselves.

This one, for whatever reason, proved infinitely more difficult to write. (FYI, my writer’s block had nothing to do with their boycot of Game 5 against the Orlando Magic. My only hot take is they’re the only NBA team with true balls in this matter. They were willing to sacrifice a playoff loss for their statement. (I’m guessing they weren’t conferencing with David Silver before they walked out.) No matter your politics or opinions on our current state of affairs, that took some fucking balls.)

Ultimately, I decided to express my unfiltered broken heart by copying and pasting text messages addressed to some of my closest people.

It’s a super creative idea that involved very little creative juice to publish.

No harm. No foul.

Enjoy the ride.

(Circa early August, 2020):

“DJ Wilson actually doing something! Holy shit!”

“Big Ragu has been awful tonight.”

“Yeah, he (BLEDSOE) looks tired and confused.”

(Against MIAMI in the regular season):

“I took at nap at halftime. Woke up in the middle of the fourth. The fuck happened?”

“I saw the end of a 20 point run and Giannis spinning for a bunch of dunks. They finally start guarding Tyler Herro in the third?”

“Wearing the Midds jersey all weekend. HUGE WIN TODAY!”

(Regarding the national announcers fawning over Luka and the Bucks’ loss to the MAVS):

“It’s an insignificant game but I’ll still be pissed if they lose. Either way, they need to close games better.”

“It’s irritating.”

(Regarding the regular season loss to the Raptors when the Bucks were without Giannis due to last minute dental surgery):

“I hear you. I missed the highs but enjoyed not suffering through the lows. The Bucks game meant nothing, but I’m still pissed. I hate those Toronto fucks. And fuck Nick Nurse!”

(About a week or so later):

“Giannis just head-butted a guy. Great.”

“Bucks have one more regular season game. I think he absolutely sits out Game 1 of the playoffs.”

“One game for Giannis. No harm, no foul.”

(Before Game 1 against ORLANDO):

“Spoiler alert: DJ Wilson scores in double figures while playing the majority of the 4th quarter and the Bucks win by twenty.“

(After Game 1 against ORLANDO):

“Nightmare of a game. Classic Middleton and Lopez game. When they’re cold we’re done.”

“And apparently they forgot to pack their defense when they traveled to the bubble.”

“Remember when the Magic beat Toronto in Game 1 last year? Remember when VanVleet couldn’t hit a shot in last year’s playoffs and then couldn’t miss a shot against the Bucks? Some positive regression coming Milwaukee’s way starting Thursday.”

“Exactly my point. They’re due. At least they’re not peaking too early.”

“Let’s grade Middleton’s handle: C+ ?”

(A week before the Bucks vs. Heat series):

“Total pacifist over here but I really want to punch Duncan Robinson in the face.”

“Jazz need to get other people involved to keep up with the Nugs. Just like the Bucks. They need Midds and the bench mob to hit some shots.”

“Bledsoe seems awake today.”

(Game #1 against MIAMI):

“40 point quarter. Good start.”

“I’m holding on way too tightly with this.”

“And my emotional investment is peaking with the Bucks. Didn’t handle their Game 1 loss well and now this one. My entire body feels chemical rushes I shouldn’t be feeling. It’s a gross drug. I hate meaningful basketball.”

“The basketball is real. These dudes are trying hard to win the games. The whistles on every other fucking possession are what bothers me more than anything. These games may lack meaning to others (if this is your opinion and belief, more power to you) but not me. When they win I get a natural high. When they lose I feel extremely upset and sour.”

“Yeah, they might be getting tired, too. Playing every other night at max effort. Look at Harden. He couldn’t hit a shot to save his life last night.”

(After the ROCKETS defeated the THUNDER):

“Go Rockets? Is James Harden a little chubby?”

(Before Game 3 with the HEAT):

“Can Bledsoe just drive and at least try to score? Our offense needs someone else to ease the burden of Giannis and Midds. I think keeping Matthews on Butler works. Bledsoe can drive at will on theses fools.”

“And is Bledsoe high out there? Wouldn’t be surprised to learn he played this entire series on shrooms.”

“I’m just worried about Duncan Robinson. I fucking hate that dude. And he’s been quiet.”

“I wasn’t going to watch the last game and then ended up watching the whole thing. Bucks haven’t been their best basketball selves in The Bubble. Can they rise up and get their groove back? Will The Big Ragu ever hit another jump shot?”

(After the Game 3 loss when the Bucks shit the bed in the fourth quarter):

“I was more upset with the Games 1 and 2 losses for some reason. Ain’t about Coach Bud. It’s about GRABBING THE FUCKING BALL!!!!!!!”

“Celtics crush us anyway. This sucks.”

“No drastic changes. Just sign Giannis to the super max. That’s all I care about.”

“I’d rather watch him play and win zero titles than watch him go, even if we win this year or next.”

“Just hope Giannis stays. Don’t care if they ever win a title. Dude is fun to watch. Helps with the doldrums of winter. It’s pretty obvious ‘the journey’ is a hell of a lot better than the destination with these here Bucks.”

(Regarding Game 4 when Giannis left the game early to injury and Middleton and Co. ascended to a somewhat miraculous win):

“Didn’t watch a second. Was in the middle of a massive fence building project. Checked my phone a few times and then listened to the radio for the last minute of the game. Midds three point dagger choked me up a little bit. Not going to lie. Ain’t Coach Bud’s fault they can’t handle the fucking ball anymore. GRAB THE BALL!!!!”

(After very little little (if any) text chatter before Game 5, here was my only text after their season ended. Giannis didn’t play, the Bucks fought hard, but they just didn’t have enough):

“Starting the drum beat for CP3. He’s the fourth quarter alpha the Bucks need.”

THE END

P.S. I’ve since steered away from the low hanging fruit of the Chris Paul panacea.

P.P.S. Here’s a mid-bubble fantasy football take I wanted to put on the record for a good laugh. Definitely a ROJO truther over here:

“Spoiler alert: Fournette will NOT be the alpha unless Jones gets hurt. They’ll cut McCoy because he’s toast. Dude didn’t even dress for the Super Bowl. Fournette is their veteran backup because Brady is a little bitch and can’t handle a rookie as the main guy if Jones gets hurt.”

Opening Day 2020

Last Friday, one local headline spewed out some bullshit about the Brewers’ ‘long-awaited Opening Day’.

COVID erased it before noon.

Don’t call it Opening Day.

Please.

It’s not even close.

I know what Opening Day looks like in Milwaukee. I also know what it smells like.

First of all, the weather usually sucks. Today’s 60 degree fresh cloudy day would’ve been a godsend in late March/early April.

The real Opening Day is a nortorious combination of young, amateur-hour drunks reveling in skipping day-to-day responsibilities to day drink along with very experienced, older drunks.

Most true baseball fans (the nerds who keep score) abhor Opening Day for that very reason.

I once skipped an utterly useless day of college classes to go to Opening Day back in the 90’s. I don’t remember who won, but I remember skipping schoo to go.

And I remember the County Stadium smells because I wasn’t drinking.

Decades of spilled beer on cement.

Buckets and buckets of freshly poured beer.

Hundreds upon hundreds of grilled sausages.

Stale cigar smoke.

Thousands upon thousands of long beer pisses.

Popcorn.

Peanuts.

Freshly cut grass.

August 3, 2020

I walked near Miller Park just before the Brewers’ first home game tonight. Didn’t smell a thing. Kelly’s Bleachers had a few fans crowding around the bar, but their parking lot was nearly empty.

It’s not Opening Day without fans.

It’s not sex without skin.

It’s not a toilet without the toil.

THE END

SPORTS

PART 1: (boredom)

For God knows what reason, Huey Lewis & The News named one of their albums SPORTS.

Sure it was popular, but what the hell were they thinking?

Did they think it offered some sort of double meaning?

“Hey, we’re just some good old sports who like sports!”

Maybe Huey Lewis & The News had an ill-advised advisor who thought the title would attract your average hard-working sports fan.

Either way, you’d think the album would have at least one song about sports, right? There’s a song about Vietnam, a song about wanting a new drug, and some others that don’t deserve another syllable from me. Not one damn song about sports!

It might be the worst album title of all-time (with Lionel Richie’s DANCING ON THE CEILING a very close second).

Enough with Huey and who the hell cares about The News because it’s time to celebrate! Somehow, we made it through the last 4.5 months without the luxury of our favorite sports, and, as we stand now, we’re on the precipice of what could be the greatest stretch of live sports in all of human history. (More on that later.)

Let’s start the sports talk by discussing some alternate realities, something most sports fans are used to anyway. Sports and the relentless analysis of its past/future/present is the ultimate distraction because there is literally no end to their multi-layered dimensions. Somehow, sports talk radio/TV has survived without months and months of fresh sports because of dissociative episodes such as exhaustive Mt. Rushmore discussions, Top 5/Bottom 5 Twitter polls, endless ‘what if’ scenarios, future projections, past speculations, crybaby laments, and, of course, the perpetual wishful thinking for brighter days ahead.

Obviously, had the space-time continuum not been forever altered by COVID-19, this essay and our current reality doesn’t exist.

SIDE NOTE: Let me be clear. In no way, shape or form am I trying to minimize the devastating effects of COVID-19. It’s most definitely for real, and no matter your politics, it has undoubtedly fucked things up: My father miraculously escaped a nursing home without contracting it, a friend in my oldest fantasy football league tested positive without symptoms, and several of my colleagues lost loved ones due to the virus. It’s the overwhelming frontrunner for story of the century, skewing and screwing with the daily fabric of everyone’s life in one way or another. This past April, I ended up playing the WE’RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER drinking game while watching TV one night, and I passed-out before the 10 o’clock news ended. Didn’t even get through the weather.

Unmistakably, the degree to which this new virus has affected each and every one of us is not my focus here. Please don’t pretend to think this essay is about something that it’s not. I’m talking about Wisconsin sports here, and I won’t apologize for any of it!

Let’s narrow our focus even more to examine the woulda’s and coulda’s of what was supposed to be the current Wisconsin sports landscape. Here’s what I believe things would’ve looked like had Patient Zero kept the novel coronavirus to him or herself back in 2019.

My unaltered Wisconsin sports reality begins from a mid-July perch in the heart of Major League Baseball’s marathon regular season. The All-Star Game would’ve taken place about a week ago, and most of us would have already forgotten who won.

Well past the statistical half-way point of the season, the fourth place Brewers would only be 3.5 games behind the first place Reds and finishing up a six-game west coast swing with an important series against the league leading Dodgers.

For me, there’s definitely something special about mid-summer west coast Brewers baseball. During the dog days of July, I don’t have to wake up at the butt-crack of dawn to teach a roomful of fifth graders, and I’m blessed to be able to stay up well past midnight to watch Josh Hader strike out the side while Craig Counsell’s face nervously wonders how he’s going to manage tomorrow’s game without Josh Hader because he already used him yesterday. (By the way, I am a huge proponent of dedicating an entire cable channel to simulcasting live shots of Craig Counsell’s face during Brewer games. I think it would be a huge hit!)

The allure of Brewers west coast baseball can also be credited to their A+ local TV broadcasting team: Brian Anderson is a genuine treasure and truly one of the very best play-by-play talents in all of baseball. Trust me, Brewer fans are grateful to share him with the national stage, especially when we’re honored with the presence of Badgers icon Matt Lepay as BA’s fill-in. Lepay developed his baseball sea legs before our very eyes and ears, proving he’s a natural no matter the sport, and a verified Wisconsin broadcasting legend.

“Touchdown, Wisconsin!”

Their partner, Bill ‘Rock’ Schroeder, is the perfect compliment: He combines the intimate knowledge of an ex-MLB-catcher with the folksy grump of a lifelong Brewer, a beloved homer who is sick and tired of ending every season as the perpetual bridesmaid. He’s with us every night, and he hates Brewer losses as much as we do.

Finally, west coast games usually don’t end until after midnight central time. This is great, because when the Brewers blow a mid-game lead, I don’t have to suffer through the rest of my night with the agony of defeat killing my buzz.

Why didn’t Counsell keep in his starting ‘out getter’ just a little longer?

If only Keston Hiura didn’t botch that routine double play ball!

Will Arcia ever record another base on balls?

If the Brewers lose at twelve-thirty in the morning, I go to sleep at a somewhat reasonable hour. Great.

If they happen to win, I stay up until three and keep drinking!

Win win.

Let’s switch to the Bucks now. Had COVID-19 not spread to every continent sans Antarctica, Wisconsin sports fans might still be wondering why Coach Bud (and Giannis?) insisted on playing out the Bucks’ brutal March/April schedule at full tilt.

Giannis injured his left knee against the Lakers just before everything went haywire. Would the Bucks have rushed him back to play against Boston and Miami a week after the injury? Would Giannis have insisted on coming back early because he’s a ruthless competitor and one of the NBA’s ultimate warriors? We also have to factor in that, with his supermax extension right around the corner, there’s very little chance Coach Bud and the Bucks say no to Giannis if he insisted on playing.

The Bucks were unquestionably the best team in the NBA up until the shutdown. Would they have popped champagne with the Larry O’Brien in their midst had COVID-19 not spread?

Obviously, no one knows for sure. Last June, I wrote extensively (https://bellykingbelly.com/2020/07/23/60-wins-summit-fever-altitude-sickness/) lamenting the Bucks’ precipitous fall from their 2-0 lead against Toronto. I argued that they suffered from a fatal bout of altitude sickness due to the brutal every-other-night schedule dictated to teams in the Eastern Conference Finals. No doubt, the way Giannis gives 110% on both ends, he wears down over the course of the NBA’s ridiculously long regular season/playoffs. Last year, if December Giannis graded out at 99, late-May Giannis graded out at a 90. Some would even argue he slipped to an 81 during those last few games against Toronto.

Heading into March this year, I had a sinking feeling that, with the summit in plain view, the same bout of altitude sickness would strike again at a similar spot on the mountain, especially considering their likely ECF opponent had an A+ coach in Brad Stevens, an extremely valuable glue piece in Marcus Smart, a certified fourth quarter closer in Kemba Walker, and an ascending future MVP candidate in Jayson Tatum.

On the other hand, there’s a huge part of every Wisconsin sports fan (including myself) that believes the Bucks would’ve won the whole fucking thing. There was a beautiful day in mid-June blessed with picture perfect weather that screamed ‘parade day’. I can see and hear it now: Giannis Antetokounmpo, man of the people, holding up the Larry O’Brien, telling all of Wisconsin that he’s not going anywhere and there will be more championships to come.

None of what I just described happened. COVID-19 took over 2020, and it continues to rear its ugly head.

PART 2: (dreadful thoughts and wishful thinking)

So here we are. Late July, 2020. The space-time continuum is what it is, and we’re hoping everything doesn’t turn into a Biff’s Pleasure Paradise sort of world à la Back to the Future II. All of the woulda, coulda, and shoulda’s of the past 4.5 months have turned into the great promise yet uncertainty of the next 3+ months. Nobody, not even the 14th Dalai Lama himself, has any idea whether or not we are about to embark on the greatest stretch of live sports in the history of live sports, or if the pandemic will erase every dream for every diehard sports fan across the nation.

Let’s broaden our scope for a second.

What’s your prediction right now?

Will all four major North American sports leagues finish their respective seasons and crown champions?

I know. Tough question.

I believe the NFL is the least likely to finish their season with a legit champion. For starters, the NFL calendar stretches all the way into February, the height of the flu season. While Pizza Hut and Dominos pride themselves on contactless delivery these days, the NFL makes its billions as an unabashed contact sport. Shit, will they even make it past Thanksgiving? I remember the Packers endured a pretty intense flu outbreak before their NFC divisional round playoff game against Seattle last January.

Does anyone think, in our current state of affairs, they’d even take the field with a similar outbreak of COVID?

I’m a bit more hopeful the other major sports will crown champions, but I was also hopeful gyms in Wisconsin would open up by Easter Sunday.

I wasn’t even close with that one.

I was hopeful I’d be able to stand in front of my fifth graders for at least a few weeks to finish the school year.

Nope.

I was hopeful I’d be able to attend my nephew’s birthday party in June.

Sorry.

I thought for sure I’d be standing in front of my new batch of fifth graders on the first day of school this September.

Wrong again.

Every single one of my pandemic hopes and predictions thus far have turned out totally wrong. I stopped making predictions after the gyms didn’t open, and my hope for any legitimate, lasting joy derived from the sports world feels uneasy at best at this juncture.

Do I hope the Brewers start off strong and beat the Cubs on Opening Day?

Sure.

But what difference will it make when one-third of the New York Yankees test positive for COVID on Labor Day?

I can see the headline now: MLB shuts down out of ‘an abundance of caution’.

Do I hope a healthy and well-rested Bucks ascend to their rightful spot on top of the NBA world in October?

Absolutely, but when Giannis and Khris Middleton both test positive for COVID the night before Game 7 of the NBA Finals without any symptoms, and the title goes to LeBron and the Lakers, my already fragile Wisconsin sports heart will shatter and may never fully heal.

And what happens when COVID spreads through a large chunk of the Packers locker room before the NFC title game this January?

Does anyone honestly think the NFL cancels the season right then and there, or will Drew Brees and the Saints automatically graduate to the Super Bowl to face Lamar Jackson so everyone can fulfill their corporate obligations?

Nobody knows. Not even Jesus Christ himself knows.

“You tryin’ to say Jesus Christ can’t hit a curveball?”

Maybe my war-torn Wisconsin sports heart has reached peak battle fatigue. Maybe all Wisconsin sports fans are cursed with a lifetime of eternal pessimism because the Packers held and subsequently barfed up their 99% fourth quarter win percentage against Seattle in the 2014 season’s NFC Title game.

But, wait. With sports there’s always wishful thinking. Let’s flip the script and go big. What if this year is different because it’s already so goddamned different?

Maybe the novel coronavirus doesn’t penetrate the sports world with a fatal tumor. The English Premier League crowned a champion this year; that was a pretty big deal. I’ve watched several boxing and MMA fights in the past couple of months and they haven’t shut down yet. Shit, the KBO is still playing. And what about good old Travis Diener nailing a walk-off three for Marquette’s TBT championship?

That felt good as fuck, even without fans in the stands!

Maybe there is hope!

Maybe every league stays open for business and Wisconsin sports fans are saddled with first world problems like flipping between a Bucks playoff game and a Sunday night Packers game vs. the Saints. Can you imagine waking from an eight-month coma September 27 with this dilemma on your hands? You might stroke back out right then and there, or faint like Marty’s girlfriend when she runs into her future self in Back to the Future II.

At the very same time (circa late September), maybe the Brewers are fighting the Cardinals and Cubs for a playoff spot.

Heading into the year, the Brewers’ starting pitching was a clear weakness, and their ‘answers’ were all unproven. Now, with expanded rosters on top of built in depth (not to mention the DH rule, a 60 game sprint, and expanded playoffs), the Brewers could legitimately compete for a postseason birth.

Ask the 2019 Nationals. Once you’re invited to the dance, anything can happen . . . .

Like a Brewers World Series title, on top of a likely Bucks title, along with a pissed-off-as-all-fuck, single-as-all-fuck Aaron Rodgers going Michael Jordan on everyone’s asses.

Wisconsin sports 2020-2021.

Why not us? Why not now?

Could this be our finest moment?

Will Wisconsin sports erase our demons and achieve ultimate redemption?

Can we finally summit Everest?

Or will acute altitude sickness knock us back down the mountain?

Or will we fail to make it out of base camp?

Will we even make it to base camp in the first place?

Will COVID-19 regulate us back to mindless endeavors like spending 15 minutes searching for a new podcast while delaying yard work on what should be a glorious football Sunday?

Will we be forced back into inane hobbies like writing overly wordy sports blogs nobody reads anyway?

Shit.

No one knows.

Not even God knows.

THE END

Written by Joe Kovochich (07/23/2020)

60 wins, Summit Fever & Altitude Sickness

Despite 60 wins and other advanced metrics claiming historical greatness, the 2018-2019 Milwaukee Bucks stalled during the most critical of junctures. With the summit in plain view, and with the entire state of Wisconsin experiencing a serious bout of summit fever, the Milwaukee Bucks were forced back down to base camp with a severe case of altitude sickness.

It’s clear the Bucks needed an extra gear and a go-to offensive force to close out games and get to the top.

Maybe they find their answer in-house with Giannis Antetokounmpo, who has taken his game to the next level every year he’s been in the league.

Maybe he finally develops a consistent back-to-the-basket post game, or some sort of unstoppable pull-up jumper.

Maybe he revamps his deliberate free throw approach and evolves into an 80% shooter by simply dribbling three times and letting it rip.

Ultimately, I think his offensive game suffered in the playoffs because he worked with 110% effort on defense, and he was regularly smacked and hacked in the paint. Dude shot 55% from the line in the postseason (including two air-balls), he air-mailed a five-footer in Game 6, and he even missed a dunk in Game 5.

By having to play every other night in the ECF, I felt like he, along with the rest of the team, simply ran out of gas. They ran out of oxygen, and the ensuing altitude sickness became too much to overcome.

It’s obvious Giannis and the Bucks lost to a better team who clearly possessed a decisive extra gear when they needed it the most.

That being said, I hope the Bucks bring back Middleton and Lopez. Middleton gets trashed by the local media and know-it-all fans, but he’s been an instrumental part of the rebuild, and he’s the perfect #2 to Giannis. If he asserted himself to be more of an alpha in the fourth quarter, maybe the Bucks are playing tonight. Lopez was a huge part of the team’s “Let it Fly” philosophy by spacing the court for his teammates, and he was an imposing force on “D” by protecting the paint and crashing the boards. More importantly, the Bucks have no one on their current roster capable of replacing either player, making both Middleton and Lopez key pieces of the puzzle for next year.

With that being said, I think we should let Brogdon walk. He’ll command a ton of money in free agency, and his injury history is a definite concern. Also, we have young (cheap) players who can replace him with Sterling Brown, Donte Divincenzo, and, if we can somehow sign George Hill for another year (for around 10 million?), we’d be set.

Finally, I’m fine with the long term Bledsoe signing, but dude needs to find a way to step up in the playoffs, not take steps backward. My goodness, if he played even close to his offensive potential, we’d be playing tonight.

I firmly believe the fire is lit and the future is bright. I can envision a Coach Bud statue near Giannis’s somewhere in the Beer District. Still. Losing in the ECF continues to hurt bad. It feels worse than the Brewers losing Game 7 last year.

Maybe it’s the sight of Steph Curry jacking up threes in Canada. Maybe it’s because the wound is still fresh, and I can’t help picking at the scab. Maybe it’s because Wisconsin sports fans like myself are sick and tired of getting jarred awake just when we were convinced the dream was real.

Who knows where the next NBA super team will be and what it will look like. Either way, the East should be up for grabs next year, and with Giannis around, the Bucks will be competitive as hell and fun to watch.

Can’t wait to see what comes next.

Go Bucks!!!!!

Random Observations from the Heart of Milwaukee: Summerfest Edition (2009-2019)

Chapter Eleven: H1Z1

1:58 PM CST June 26, 2019

Just rolled up to the “hard rock” stage. At least it used to be the hard rock stage.

Current band performing is soft as hell.

Some white dude singing about meeting him under the moon.

(there’s no place where he’d rather be….)

He made some big speech about how this song was their “hit” and we should go find it on YouTube.

“We have one more song!”

(Promise?)

Summerfest 2019

I took the city bus to get here.

Hayley and I purchased a house near Miller Park last September.

Can’t walk to Summerfest this year…

(Well, I could walk here but I’d still be walking.)

We love our new home.

And the bus ride down here was AWESOME.

1. Upon arrival at the bus stop, some young stoner looking dude was lying on the grass, dicking around on his phone.

He then asked me if I liked music.

I said I did like music, especially rock n’ roll.

“I got you, brah.”

He fired up some rock song I never heard before….I noticed it had guitars, and then bus came.

Stoner dude told me he’d have to turn off the music because the bus driver would regulate.

I was surprised.

Stoner dude wasn’t surprised.

“Yeah, it’s the Midwest. They don’t give a shit in LA.”

I struggled with the price of admission. I was prepared for a $2.00 charge, but the driver needed $2.25.

I let the stoner dude skip me; he was also paying in cash but at least he had exact change.

I was holding on for dear life while I tried paying with a crumpled to shit dollar bill.

The seasoned driver wasn’t amused.

“Just straighten it out.”

Yeah yeah yeah….easier said than done.

The rest of the ride was uneventful but beautiful.

A lady (suffering from mental illness?) kept begging the bus driver to “get going” during every unnecessary stop.

I couldn’t tell if another lady was talking on her phone or talking to the mentally ill lady.

The stoner dude exited before me and had to ask the driver to open the back door.

Two well-dressed business professionals entered in the heart of downtown. The lady was in heels, and the dude in the monkey suit was carrying a cardboard box of some sort….

Maybe they were heading for a food truck.

We’ll never know because I exited the bus before they did.

So yeah, we bought a house. It’s great. We both love it.

Also….we bought a trail cam.

Our backyard was visited by a wild turkey, raccoons, possiums, ground hogs, mice, birds, and at least one cat.

We look forward to capturing a picture of the infamous Milwaukee Cougar one day soon.

(I digress.)

Just caught a song by THE PSEUDO FEDS @ the only stage that really matters at Summerfest:

The Rebel Stage

The Pseudo Feds are a 4-man punk group. Average age: 33 years-old.

(Maybe they’re older…)

These dudes could easily be in their 40’s….

They know what they’re doing.

The drummer is basic but hits everything with great intention. Bass is one of the leaders. He sings. Lead guitar doesn’t really play lead much. Complex song crafting for a punk band. Songs have some actual surprises, there’s some melody,

and they’ll even shift time signatures when the plan calls for it.

They’re not bad.

Two singers. Harmonies.

Lyrics aren’t too angry.

Trying to get a sing along here at the end.

(Clearly showing their advanced age.)

Hung out with Zach from Where the i Divides a few days ago. He brought up a few memories. We had such a great time.

These bands here at The Rebel Stage always look like they’re having a GREAT TIME.

Rhetoric Vendetta.

Rebel Stage.

3-person punk band.

Younger and less serious than The Pseudo Feds. These songs are coming in around 1:23 and shit.

Drummer is female and much, much better than our last drummer.

She’s loud, interesting, and the most complex musician on stage.

Most songs only have a few parts, but she has dozens of different variations.

She keeps staring at the lead singer.

Singing along some…

Maybe she’s running the show?

Lead singer isn’t very interesting. Kind of a GREEN DAY rip off.

Bass player is singing now. Can’t understand a word he’s saying.

His song was longer….

(About 1:45 on that one.)

Wait….these guys just announced themselves as The Pseudo Feds.

Maybe that last band was Rhetoric Vendetta…

FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

I’m 43 years old.

It’s easy to tell:

Who’s with their work friends in the middle of their annual trip to the first day of Summerfest.

It’s easy to tell who is trying to look exactly like their friends.

It’s easy to tell who hangs out at The Rebel Stage.

(Anyone wearing a Bad Religion cut off is going to The Rebel Stage.)

It’s easy to tell who’s been here since the very beginning, 50+ years ago.

It’s easy to tell that more men than women wear product in their hair these days?

It’s easy to tell who is walking around with their parents.

It’s easy to identify the old head in the 6-10 person office groups.

(I have enjoyed every second of this cigar.)

My Miller Lits have tasted much better than the one East Side Dark Lager I purchased.

I don’t miss the East Side at all.

I’ve been writing down here at Summerfest for many, many years now.

Not sure if I commented on the smells.

Nothing like the smell of corn on the cob, wood fired grills with fresh meats cooking, fresh roasted nuts, fresh mulch, popcorn, cigar smoke, fried food and….

the beautiful smell of Lake Michigan in late June….

Nothing like it…

Words do me no justice here.

2019!!!

Summerfest 2019

(Day 2 for me, Friday, June 28)

Took the bus again….And this time I was much more efficient.

With Hayley’s help, I used her bus card and used the Milwaukee County Transit System app to help me arrive on time at my stop.

(Nothing worse than walking to your stop and seeing the bus fly by.)

Actually, there is something worse…

Walking to your stop and watching the bus fly by in the dead of winter as you’re running late for work….

I’m sitting pretty here…..

I have the next 8 weeks off….

It’s late June.

The weather is warm enough for me to not even contemplate bringing a sweatshirt…

I’m on a mission to get down to Summerfest to drink, observe, and WRITE.

If I’m late for the bus I wait an extra 15 minutes without much consequence.

I saw an elderly man pull for a stop around 35th Street.

Old people who ride the city bus are my heros.

It was easy to tell who was heading to Summerfest, who just got off from a long day at work, (the casino chef) and who was clearly lost.

(The young lady on drugs.)

It’s metal day at the only stage that really matters anymore. The Rebel Stage.

(Here since 2008.)

The band on stage is Milwaukee’s very own H1Z1.

They are clearly head and shoulders above the 2:00 band.

H1Z1 is a four piece with an amazing front man. I don’t like metal, but I like this band, especially the front man, the blast beats, and their name….

H1Z1

Favorite shirts so far:

1. Keep Your Day Job

2. Keep Calm and Eat Bacon

3. Lurking Class

2019 fashion trends that I just don’t understand because I’m too old:

Glitter glued to young girls’ chests…Above the boobs…..

(I’ve only seen white girls do this.)

I’m too old to understand.

They’re too young to give a flying fuck.

Random Observations from the Heart of Milwaukee: Summerfest Edition (2009-2019)

Chapter Ten: Light Years

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Summerfest 2018

I’m at some stage with some corporate sponsor with some classic rock cover band covering CCR at 3:20 in the afternoon.

(ON A WEDNESDAY)

I already downed a Guinness on the way down here, and now I’m working on a frothy Double IPA with a 9.8% alcohol content….they claim to have the aftertaste of pine needles in this thing.

(Whatever.)

I’m thankful for my current position in the universe.

(Very thankful.)

The lead singer here is pretty old, but he’s pretty gifted.

They’re ending with a Led Zeppelin song….

“Whole Lotta Love”

Dude’s range is impressive…..not stretching to hit those notes…

(Effortless.)

I’m happy to be here drinking a beer on a Wednesday afternoon….

Many of my 42 year-old-friends have had to stop drinking or have decided to stop drinking for one reason or another.

Some due to excess and loss of control, others due to health issues.

I drink more than my usual school-year-weekends here during summer, and I’m grateful to still be alive,

enjoying a potent beer and a potent lead singer for an otherwise average cover band.

There are two older ladies sitting to my right. They must be in their mid-60’s.

They don’t look cool at all, but I think they’re cool because they’re still alive and they decided to walk into Summerfest today.

(Good for them.)

I saw a funny shirt on the way in here: Some mid-50’s guy with a neon yellow shirt that read:

“My T-Shirt is brighter than your future.”

– Touché

Just heard the words “social media” in some horrible song while the cover band strikes the stage.

Horrible.

The song is horrible.

And I hate the words “social media”.

It’s like hearing the words “Stormy Daniels” out loud.

I have nothing against “Stormy Daniels” or “social media” per se, but I just hate hearing those words out loud.

Veteran cover bands are really good at striking the stage. Like clockwork, they were off in less than 10 minutes….and no one was bitching at one another…..IMPRESSIVE!

Two older gents are standing 3 rows in front of the uncool/cool ladies.

Now these guys are cool. Both in their 50’s. One is wearing a blood red button down shirt, sort of Hawaiian, but not really Hawaiian.

His buddy is wearing softer colors, but he looks just as cool. Both have beer bellies, beards, and Miller Lites.

The guy with the red shirt has longer hair but he’s clearly balding.

If I ever go bald, I’m shaving my head. No question about it.

I’m 42 this year. Grey hairs are starting to kick in.

But I’m certainly not complaining.

My debt is down to zero.

I owe about $70 a month to an athletic club, about $70 a month for my cellular device, about $200 a month for cable/internet/Netflix/Amazon Prime/HBO GO, and after that, I buy food, booze for the weekends and summer, and I’ll pay for lunch or dinner most of the time when I’m with Hayley. She pays the rent and I’ve paid off my once ridiculous credit card debt which was $25,000 at one point in the not-too-distant past.

I’m grateful for Hayley. She’s the most amazing human I’ve ever met. She’s my favorite human of all time. No question about it….

(and she hates Summerfest)

And the fact that she hates Summerfest is fine by me because I can come here by myself and drink and write and make fun of not-so-shitty but still-shitty cover bands and not have to worry about anything important.

Time slows down….For sure.

I’m light years away from a Wednesday in the middle of January, that’s for damn sure.

(Light years.)

A typical Wednesday in the middle of January is much, much, much more stressful than this.

I’m usually surrounded by dozens of kids in the same room, and it’s my responsibility to educate their brains….(in the middle of January.)

Teaching is no joke, no matter the month, but…

It’s about as stressful as it gets in the middle of fucking January.

This here is my reward.

This joy is what I deserve.

(Unapologetically.)

(I work my ass off for this. No doubt about it.)

It’s now 5:00 PM CST.

I’m at the Uline Warehouse.

I just ordered a BOLLICINI SPARKLING CUVÉE and I’m regretting it because they gave it to me in a petite light blue can with a straw.

HOW EMBARRASSING!

I’ve let my beard and my hair grow out since the last of school 2.5 weeks ago. This isn’t the look of a modern man, that’s for sure. Anyways….

REVEL IN ROMANCE finally hit the stage. 4 young gents in pristine white suits and the lead singer is a young female who doesn’t sing very well. Standard 2 guitars, bass and drums.

They’re from Atlanta, GA.

The lead singer lady is imploring Summerfest to jump up and down with them.

(Yawn.)

They’re polished but boring.

(Very boring.)

So I threw out my back two days ago lifting weights. Now I’m vaping CBD oil in a desperate attempt for a cure. I ran 4 miles this morning, overcoming the back soreness.

This REVELS IN ROMANCE band reminds me of the Chuck E. Cheese band for some reason.

Why?

Because they suck!

What’s more beautiful? Old people acting like they’re young or young people acting like they’re old?

I was thinking of using the word pretending, but both parties aren’t pretending.

(Clearly)

It’s so beautiful.

Both parties.

(Beautiful.)

I’m starting to think IMAGINE DRAGONS are the headliner tonight.

Never liked IMAGINE DRAGONS.

Always thought they were stock.

Nothing to see here….

(Keep moving.)

Random Observations from the Heart of Milwaukee: Summerfest Edition (2009-2019)

Chapter Nine: Maybe the Sound Guy Isn’t an Idiot Afterall

June 28, 2017

It’s Wednesday.

It’s the first day of Summerfest.

I’m back, already 1.5 beers in.

Still no cigarettes. It’s been almost 5 years since I’ve smoked a goddamn cigarette. (Thank god)

I ran 4.08 miles today.

I ran 4.07 mile yesterday.

(I know you don’t care.)

So I’m here at the BMO Harris Bank Stage. Some band is playing their first song through monitors only.

“Tonight’s gonna be a good night….Tonight’s gonna be a good good night.”

The audience hears distant drums/guitars and vocals as the idiot sound guy tries to figure things out.

They were just soundchecking you idiot!

Couldn’t hear them then, can’t hear them now!

“What’s up Milwaukee? Summerfest!”

Whoever this band is isn’t very good.

Stock cover band.

They’re playing “Summer of ‘69” now.

“When you held my hand, I knew it was now or never.”

“I guess nothing can last forever….”

(Heartbreaking)

I hope this song doesn’t last forever, not like I care about what comes next.

Joan Jett – I Love Rock n’ Roll

If this stage wasn’t covered from the rain, I’d be out of here.

Actually, a walk in the 67 degree Fahrenheit light rain might be the best thing for me, because this band SUCKS!

Maybe there’s a reason the sound guy didn’t run them through the main speakers.

Maybe the sound guy isn’t an idiot afterall.

Next song: Highway to Hell

Female lead singer is back shouting through the mic….

(I’m out of here.)

Ran into a fellow teacher friend of mine.

She said I was “running all over town” and I didn’t know what she was talking about.

Then I realized she was talking about the 4.08 miles I ran yesterday, and the 4.07 miles I ran today. (Posted on Facebook.)

Now at the Johnson Controls World Song Stage.

Some shit band is playing their shitty original “alternative/indie” music.

Four white kids. (Early 20’s?)

The two with long hair aren’t wearing any sleeves.

Mid-tempo number with no vocal range, no melodic range with either bass or guitar, and the drummer is the worse musician in the group.

I should go back to the cover band.

Now at the Uline Warehouse. Some cover band is performing The Cranberries.

“Zombie. Zombie. Zombie. It’s in your head. Zombie.”

Three men with black shirts, sleeves and all. Everyone is in their mid-30’s. Mid 40’s?

(Hard to tell.)

The female vocalist is wearing plaid pants, and she doesn’t bother me (even though she’s a little flat).

The Red Hot Chili Peppers are the headliners tonight. I’ve never really liked The Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Kind of a lame name.

(Their music overplayed.)

Their bass player is okay but everyone else is meh.

Lots of older folks wearing stock Red Hot Chili Peppers shirts here at the festival today.

(Yawn.)

07/05/17

“Oh, yeah…we love the blues.” – lead singer from some blues band here at Summerfest.

“The blues pretty much takes care of itself.” – some guy with a cigar walking on by, pointing a finger to his head.

Nobody in this band is under 40, and it shows. Very skilled musicians.

Mid-tempo, 5 minute blues number and OWNING IT.

Not much of a blues man myself, but these guys got me.

Maybe it’s because I turned 41 this year.

Maybe it’s because I’m almost finished with my second beer.

(New stage)

“How many Brad Gilbert fans do we have out there?

5 people went wild.

“We are few but we are mighty.”

I turned 41 this past October. I’m close to buying a house with my Hay Hay, (and having kids with her?)

I’m super excited about the house because the small one bedroom we currently reside in doesn’t allow me to paint, grill, or cook with my wok.

Also, my band Where the i Divides hasn’t practiced or played a show in years.

(Years!)

No more “Keep Calm and Blah Blah Blah” shirts.

They’re gone. Haven’t seen one this year.

More Cubs shirts than Brewer shirts, even though the Brewers are still in first place this year.

More Bucks gear than Packers gear.

There’s a 10 person band on stage here at the World Stage. Every single last one of them is moving to the music.

Out of 500+ in the audience, about 10 brave souls are moving to the music as well.

(Good for them.)

I’ve never seen so many exposed bellybuttons in all my life? Is this true?

Mostly young girls.

I saw one 40+ year-old expose her belly.

(Good for her.)

More than one stage is warming up the crowd with Michael Jackson tunes. Tunes that even the kids know.

Long live rock n’ roll!

Random Observations from the Heart of Milwaukee: Summerfest Edition (2009-2019)

Chapter Eight: BBRROONNZZEE (2016)

Summerfest 2016 5:55 PM CST

Day #2

This is the first year in as long as I can remember that I DID NOT GO TO OPENING DAY!

There is a real possibility that I’ve attended the Opening Day of Summerfest for the last 20 years straight. (Probably more.)

I didn’t go to Opening Day yesterday because I went to Six Flags Great America for some high thrills with my good friend Zach. It was awesome!

So I turned 40 this year….(SO WHAT!)

So, I’m here at a Summerfest beta stage: It’s the blah blah blah bank pavilion or something.

The Marcus Amplitheater is the alpha.

Here at the beta stage, some shit band just took the stage. Four in-shape men (clearly in their early 50’s) playing some long winded rock n’ roll instrumental with cheesy 1970’s guitar solos. All four were wearing sunglasses.

The pavilion is about one-third full.

Styx plays in about 3.5 hours.

I’m sipping on a Redd’s Green Apple Ale with my sunglasses on. On my half-hour walk here, I thought about how badly the chaffed skin on my inner thighs felt. I suffered in this pain for exactly half of my walk down here.

Before the journey, I hobbled 3 blocks to Walgreens for some petroleum jelly; while there I picked up my prescription for Warfarin, and dropped off a script for my upcoming colonoscopy.

Have I mentioned that I turned 40?

So they’re singing now….and here’s another cheesy 70’s guitar solo.

Now the lead singer is singing/pointing at the sparse crowd.

The extended outro is a classic one. Designed to make the crowd clap hard when it’s done.

(Thank god it’s over.)

Of course, the lead singer yells something into the mic immediately after the song ends.

“Blah Blah Blah, Milwaukee!”

(Of course)

The band’s name is Bad Boy. I’m not joking.

“Everybody alright?” – the first words I clearly understood from the lead singer.

No. I’m not alright.

My inner thighs are severely chaffed, and I’m sitting here listening to the lead singer of Bad Boy scream into the microphone.

“I’ve got people from Australia here. I’ve got people from California here.”

Great. Good for you….

These guys aren’t horrible.

Better musicians than I am, that’s for damn sure.

They’ve performed at Summerfest for 5 straight years.

I haven’t.

I’m not jealous.

I’m not in awe.

I’m just observing and analyzing based on my prior experiences.

He’s now singing, “Do you feel alright?”

I will in a second…

Now at the Briggs stage.

Some band named Juice won the big Battle of the Bands competition. They won $20,000 or something.

My band, Where the i Divides, entered a Battle of the Bands once.

We lost….

The guitar player (the same friend I went to Great America with) showed up late and drunk and threw his large tube amp off its stand after a horrible show.

BEST SHOW EVER!!!!

When I was younger, I wrote all the time…

I used to hang on so tightly to all the joy and ecstasy of my 20’s….

I knew it was fleeting, and I didn’t want to let that fire burn out without documenting it.

Some millennial just showed up with her Bob Marley back-pack. Katy Perry is playing on the loudspeaker.

(I’m out of here…)

Now at the hard rock stage: three-fourths of the band are in their mid-50’s and wearing sunglasses. Two of them are wearing hats to hide their receding hairlines, and the lead singer is unashamed of his receding hairline/balding head.

I’m lucky. My dad still has plenty of hair in his mid-60’s, and I still a full head of hair here at 40.

Whatever. Their drummer is in his 20’s.

Looks like his hair is receding too, even at this early age. (Like father, like son….I’m sure.)

The lead singer is droning on about Les Paul.

Boring.

So he’s from Waukesha….(big fucking deal.)

They’re now singing about letting the good times roll.

(Organ solo.)

75% of the crowd is paying attention.

Precisely 25% of them are on their phones.

“Let the good times roll.”

Joe Jackson is the headliner tonight at this stage.

(Joe Jackson.)

Some old guy is wearing a Phish shirt.

He probably got into Phish when he was my age.

(Holy shit.)

I forgot my headphones this year.

My band hasn’t practiced in well over 3 years.

There’s a real possibility that we may never perform again.

There’s a real possibility that you could care less.

(And that’s alright by me.)

GGOOLLDD here at the Oasis.

Heard a lot about this local band.

So far, I’m unimpressed.

Flashy costumes.

Synths.

So what?

Little depth to their songwriting.

Their attempts at hooks don’t blow me away.

SSIILLVVEERR.

Listen to Canada’s METRIC instead….

(Trust me.)

After sitting through their last 3 songs, maybe they should be named, BBRROONNZZEE.

(Trust me.)

Try Chvrches instead.