In the happy-ending version, Miller Park would’ve been a cauldron of cheers. Not just Sunday night, but for Monday’s Game 7, too, and well into the World Series week.
Instead, Sunday’s final scene of the Brewers’ storied season featured a half-empty stadium. Green seats had replaced the fans with fervent hopes. Silence had drowned out the would-be cacophony.
The scoreboard told the stark reality: down 12-6, ninth inning. Never before had so many Brewers fans so craved a six-pack. But Prohibition prevailed.
So it was all over but the shouting, and the only roars came from a few hundred Cardinals fans massed behind the visitors’ dugout. They jumped and laughed and pressed to the railings that restrained them from their conquering heroes, hoping for the briefest brush with greatness.
Just as Brewers fans had done on the night of Oct. 7, when they celebrated the club’s first playoff series win since Hall & Oates were cool. It had been 29 years since the 1982 run. Now it felt like 29 years since Oct. 7.
In the aftermath, many Brewers fans would treat manager Ron Roenicke like this was Salem and he wore a pointy hat. How could he start Shaun Marcum in Game 6? Why had Mark Kotsay played center field in Game 3? And if those decisions were the only things to decide the series, then Roenicke might indeed host The Blame Game.
Instead, they were but a couple of gusts in the gale that battered the Brewers.
How had it gone so wrong so fast? Sure, we knew about the defense. But how do you figure the Brewers pitching rotation going SuppaNova in the playoffs after carrying the Brewers all season? It was baseball’s version of Aaron Rodgers throwing 7 picks in the Super Bowl.
And how do you figure Octavio Dotel becoming Ryan Braun’s personal Cy Young. Or Prince Fielder getting but one hit in his final 14 at bats?
How do you figure the Cardinals taking a first- or second-inning lead in six straight games?
“We couldn’t keep it up,” Roenicke lamented in the postgame interview room. “We couldn’t keep bouncing back with all the runs they were getting.”
Roenicke’s press conference gave way to one by Fielder. And at the very same time people peppered him with questions about the future, Cardinals players emerged from their clubhouse and onto the field, drawing a new round of roars from their fans in the stands. So as Fielder sprayed denials about knowing his free-agent plans, Cards players sprayed champagne upon their fans.
A twist of timing. A twist of the knife.
At least by then, not many Brewers fans remained in Miller Park to see the proceedings. For those who did, it was one more painful punctuation mark.
Given more time, their bitter memories may turn to better ones. Of the night the Brewers clinched the NL Central title. Of Nyjer Morgan and Carlos Gomez winning NLDS Game 5. Of the wall of noise that greeted homers from Braun and Fielder in NLCS Game 1.
Yes, Brewers Fever had engulfed this state. Its symptoms ranged from simple conversations and ballcaps and yard signs to far more elaborate displays – Brewers logos projected on the famed MillerCoors I-House; “Go MB” written in lights on the US Bank building. It even got the Green Bay Packers joining in on Beast Mode.
But for now, it was all just prelude to what might have been. And what might have been was being acted out by the Cardinals and their fans. A small pool of red against a canvas of green seats. Their Christmas in October.
The Miller Park lights dimmed. The Cardinals retreated to their clubhouse and packed for a World Series. Their fans melted away, taking the party into mostly vacant parking lots named for Brewers legends.
In Harvey Kuenn’s lot, the winds blew cool, carrying whispers of the long winter to come.
The happy ending would have to wait.
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