Win or lose? Depends on who’s with me at the game

Emmitt B. Feldner  for The Review

It apparently takes my wife – and not my son – to overcome the negative vibes I bring when I attend a Brewers game in person.

That was demonstrated this past week when we had tickets to two different Brewer games.

I’ve been to a large number of major league baseball games over the years – in 10 different stadia in four different cities, to be precise.

Of course, some of those games were in Chicago or Minnesota, where I really didn’t have a dog in the hunt or a team in the game.

As for the rest of them, while my favorite team hasn’t lost all of those games, their overall record in them would put them closer to a number one pick in the June draft than to the World Series in October.

We usually try to get down to a game – or more – every year, and this year was no different.

We picked a couple of games where there were free giveaways – a Hank the Ballpark Dog beach blanket one night, a Barrel Man logo t-shirt the other – that happened to fall in the same week.

Terry was supposed to go with me for both of them, but she couldn’t make the first one, so Ethan went with me.

He apparently had nothing better to do on a Wednesday night than go to a ball game with his old man, which doesn’t say much for his social life.

But the ticket was free, which was a price he couldn’t beat – even if it meant getting stuck sitting with me.

I picked him up at work in Milwaukee and fortunately, I’d left myself enough time before the game.

When I asked where the Army Reserve center where he works is located so I could pick him up, he texted me it was at Silver Spring and nd82 .

I sailed past someplace that looked like what I remembered as the Reserve center where Ethan works – we’ve been there a few times st– but I was only at 51 Street, so I took Ethan at his word and kept going.

About 30 blocks later, I reached an intersection that had several gas stations and stores, but no Reserve center, so I turned around and went back to the right place that I’d passed earlier.

All I can say is, I’m glad that Ethan fixes Army trucks and doesn’t direct artillery fire or infantry attacks – there’s no telling what kind of damage he could do in one of those jobs.

We still made it in plenty of time for the game, but it still didn’t help - the Brewers lost that night, 7-4, to the Giants.

It was closer than that when we left after the seventh inning, since Ethan had to get up for work early the next morning, but the Brewers were still losing and it stayed that way even after we were gone.

Naturally, Ethan blamed it on me.

Never mind that the Brewers won the only game we went to last season.

And that was with my sister-inlaw Mary – who had a lifetime ohfer streak for home teams losing at games she attended - with us.

By a couple of nights later, Terry was up to a trip to the ballgame – she had wrenched her knee the previous weekend and was immobilized for a few days.

The knee was still stiff and sore, but we borrowed a wheelchair so she could get around easier and headed off for the game.

With Terry along, we had to make a few shopping stops along the way – even a bum knee won’t deter her from that, it seems, although it did curtail her a little bit.

One advantage was that we got to park a lot closer to the stadium, but getting through the crowds in the stadium was a little interesting with the wheelchair.

The Brewers fell behind in this game early – and I could just hear Ethan saying ‘I told you so’ as soon as we got home.

But as luck would have it, the Brewers rallied late and pulled away to a 9-3 win – although we left before the last inning, since Terry was pretty tired after a long day, but happy since she could tell Ethan that she was the difference between the Brewers winning and losing with Feldners in the crowd.

And who am I to tell her any different?

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