We’re a loser

🎵 and we’re not what we appear to be!

There is no joy in Mudville today or the Stately Manor. To expiate their anger, the indentured servants have been given some old tableware to smash, since public buildings seem to be well guarded.

We have witnesses. During the ninth inning, with two runners on base and the count three balls and one strike, we said that our relief pitcher would have to lay one in the strike zone against Pete Alonso, lest the Brewers load the bases. We feared the NY Mets home run hitter would be ready for it. Dammit! Isn’t Devin Williams always lights out?

Maybe we’re chronic pessimists (no maybe about it!), but some serious foreboding was taking place in front of our b&w Philco Thursday night. Was it the law of averages, reverse kismet, fickle fate, or just bad juju that, when we needed him most, our best pitcher blew up like a Hezbollah terrorist being paged? (If it’s any consolation, former Brewer Josh Hader, pitching relief for the Astros, blew up against the Tigers, too.)

Almost feel sorry for the poor man; he has an entire off-season to rue his meltdown. He let down the team, the fans, Milwaukee, and the state. Shouldn’t Mr. Williams donate some of his $7.25 million salary to some sort of disappointed fan relief fund? We do suffer from poor self-image. It’s a trait we think is endemic in Wisconsin as a whole. We’re not Texas or Florida. Milwaukee is a smaller, colder, and more dangerous version of Chicago. Most famous people (like Spencer Tracy and Gene Wilder) go elsewhere to become famous.

Milwaukee is the smallest market in pro baseball. Hasn’t won a World Series in 67 years. Only Los Angeles can afford the $700 million freak of nature, Shohei Ohtani. Hellz bellz, we can’t afford Willy Adames, who was pretty much MIA during the playoffs.

 Remember campaign car tops?

That said, Wisconsin half expects to see The Donald, Kamala, Tampon Tim, or the Hillbilly squeezing hands of breakfasters at Madison’s Copper Top restaurant, like New Hampshire during the primary. We are enjoying our out-sized role in the presidential race. 

Dad used to campaign that way, in the flesh. Fastened a three-sided campaign sign to the top of his Chevy Impala; it sat behind a loudspeaker. Jerome would drive down Main Street Sun Prairie urging a vote for Blaska. Now and then he would bark into the microphone, “Hi Frank, how ‘ya doin’?” startling the friend minding his own business on the sidewalk.

Far as we can recall, he did not drive through residential areas at midnight urging a vote for his opponent. That would have been sweet.

During the early 1960s, there was scarcely a weathered tobacco shed in eastern Dane County that didn’t bear a Blaska for Assembly sign. Must have visited every chicken and ham church dinner on Sundays at noontime followed by a tour of taverns in the afternoon. Go where the people are.

Jerome Blaska taught me this: always carry your opponent’s telephone number on election night; if you lose you’ll want to call to congratulate. That’s the attitude WisAct is trying to revive.

Blaska’s Bottom Line: As the Milwaukee Brewers reminded us yet again, failure is a part of life. To err is human. (Or, as Clare Booth Luce said back in the day, “To err is Truman.”)

When you think about it, fans of only one of the 30 teams in Major League Baseball will be happy. All but one of the 32 NFL teams will be disappointed they didn’t win the Super Bowl. Of the 132 NCAA Division I Football Bowl Subdivision teams, only one wins the national championship. Half of Wisconsin and the nation will be disappointed by the results of the election which concludes November 5. For that matter, life itself ends in defeat.

It’s how you handle it. But Blaska is still pissed.

What do you have that we could smash?