April
12,
2006
Postcard:
When You Say Milwaukee, You Said it All!
By Jess Myers
It was downright summery in many of the places
we call home in the days leading up to our trips to Milwaukee.
So when the opening day of the Frozen Four broke cool and
cloudy, it might have been reason enough for a gloomy outlook
on the tournament to come. The silver lining in those dark
clouds was this: it was hockey weather.
Things
We'll Never Write a Bad Thing About ... |
• The BC Eagle
mascot • The Bud Song (both the Wisconsin
and Maine versions) • The staff from The Lodge,
particularly Bill • The red cabbage at Mader’s
• The Bloody Mary at Trocadero • Leinenkugels
(all 10 varieties) • Free wireless Internet
in downtown Milwaukee (provided by the city) •
Press boxes located five rows from the ice •
The tears of a Mom whose son has just won the Hobey |
Related
Link |
Found on a Cocktail Napkin: Nine
Lies Overheard in Milwaukee |
That’s the amazing thing about the home
of suds, sauerbraten and sausage races, where the winds
blew hard off Lake Michigan on more than one day of the
Frozen. For a town that’s never been home to a NHL
team or even a D-I college program, they continually do
hockey right.
Bradley Center, from a fan and media standpoint,
is one of the better arenas to host the tournament. The
hotels, bars and restaurants right next door make it a dream
for those who walk to the rink, then either drown their
sorrows or raise a celebratory glass afterward. And despite
the close proximity of the eventual national champs, and
the abundance of red on the streets and in the taverns,
fans of the other three teams were never made to feel unwelcome,
or shy about displaying their love for the Sioux, Eagles
and Black Bears.
Some think of Milwaukee and shudder, filled
with mental images of rustbelt decay, abandoned tool factories,
Jeffrey Dahmer and baseball games that end in a tie. Others
smirk at stereotypes like the Fonz, Laverne & Shirley,
and the clichéd beer-swilling, sausage-munching Wisconsin
sports fan – whining about the Brewers pitching and
the fact that the giant green “4” tattooed on
his arm might be out of date soon.
I will think of Milwaukee and smile, recalling
fond memories of great food, fun bars and abundant beer
(from kegs that were filled just across town). The next
time I have a quick hot dog before the climb to a press
box that’s miles from the ice, I’ll long for
the Usinger’s sausage we enjoyed before going to work
in the Bradley Center’s “any closer and you’re
playing left wing” press facilities. I’ll think
of Karen Carle fighting to control her emotions as her son
hoisted the game’s top individual trophy, sporting
a gap-toothed grin that could probably be seen from as far
away as Sheboygan.
As I drift off to sleep after four late nights
of way, way too much fun, one last rendition of the Bud
Song will fill my head, and I’ll dream of players
hugging a trophy, surrounded by a screaming ocean of red.
“When you say Mil-waukee, you’ve said it all!”
And speaking of Bud, we’re only 51 weeks
away from another gathering in a town known for beer and
fans who wear red. See you under the Arch.