The Milwaukee Brewers are in the World Series.
If you’ve spent a minute watching professional baseball the last few decades, you know how bonkers that sounds. They came close to getting there a few times in recent years, but seemed to fall jusssst a bit outside (h/t Bob Uecker). Until now.
Sure, this Midwest team in Major League Baseball’s smallest market won a franchise-record 103 regular season games in 2026. But you know sports – you can go undefeated during the regular season; what’s your record beyond that? After all, it’s been FORTY-FOUR years since the Brewers were in a position to even sniff the biggest crown in the game.
A lot of people find baseball special. Sacred. Romantic, even. This season has been all of that and a bag of cheese curds in Wisconsin.
Forty-four years …
A mutual recently shared a letter his friend Mitch sent to Milwaukee’s front office after the team finally returned in the World Series. Mitch asked about returning a monster sign he took to Brewers games at County Stadium in the 1980s to American Family Field this October.
It was more than Mitch’s letter that took me to another time. It’s about the role sports play in our lives.
As Mitch wrote, his dad Sheldon (Shelly) Dorf, a former team dentist and season ticket holder, took the sign he made two years earlier to World Series games because Mitch was in school out of state. The sign, however, was retired after the Brewers lost to the St. Louis Cardinals. (With due respect, Mitch — if the sign didn’t work in ’82 … )
I got to the third paragraph of Mitch’s letter before I cried. (What can I say, I have a soft spot for sports, among other things.) It was the part about his dad. I met Shelly years later and often saw him at Miller Park where he’d greet me with a hug and we’d chat. He was a talented photographer and his photos, which included a truckload of baseball’s legendary moments, covered the walls of the dental practice he owned.
Baseball has long been marketed as America’s pastime — a sport parents and kids share for generations. I didn’t spend days at the ballpark with my dad the way Mitch did, but my dad took me to my first MLB game. Forget the fact I had more fun when we went car shopping afterward (for him – at 6-7ish, I was a little young to drive).
My dad was a much bigger football fan, but I remember that day.
I vaguely remember the last time the Brewers were in the World Series, but I remember 1982. Then I could see my dad or pick up the phone and talk about any game. He died somewhat unexpectedly a month later.
There’s a saying that time heals wounds. Maybe. But you never stop missing your best friend. All the World Series coverage reminded me he’s been gone FORTY-FOUR years.
Sports are emotional
Events like the World Series are best when shared. Maybe more than a Super Bowl, NBA or NHL final (recency bias, anyone?). Sports provide moments that other events can’t match. That’s why we invest so much of our time, emotion and yes, money in them.
My dad didn’t live long enough to see me work in sports, but every football season I remember incessantly (annoyingly) asking him to explain a first down and why the line of scrimmage wasn’t simply the scrimmage line (I still want to know that). He’d have a helluva time explaining what a catch is today, but I digress.
As for baseball, he would have been excited like so many Wisconsin natives. Probably would’ve hit the DraftKings app a few times if I’m being honest.
Mitch’s dad? He’d be over the moon. And shooting the most spectacular photos.
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©2026 Gail Sideman, gpublicity.com