"No, this isn’t some elaborate rookie hazing prank... it’s the result of Friday’s theme night at High-A Wisconsin, one in which the team normally known as the Timber Rattlers becomes the Brats as part of Bratoberfest, a play on Germany’s iconic Oktoberfest, while also paying homage to the state that’s home to one of the highest concentrations of residents with German ancestry. It just so happened that Abner Uribe, the Brewers’ flame-throwing reliever who is working his way back from a flexor strain, was in town on his rehab assignment...."
Humiliating? Or is it wonderful... bratoberfestive!
I could watch the Green Bay Packers exhibition game, women’s college volleyball, the team with the best record in baseball the Milwaukee Brewers, the Winn-Dixie 250, high school football, WWE SmackDown, or…Abner Uribe in lederhosen. You tell me… pic.twitter.com/lZWfgdxMLi
ADDED: I have a bit of a tags quandary for this post. I don't like tag proliferation, but this isn't the first appearance of lederhosen on this blog. It's the fourth. See them all here. But all the other times, I was able to use my well-loved tag "men in shorts." But this baseball take on lederhosen avoids the baseball travesty of shorts — White Sox, 1976 — and sticks with traditional knickers. As I've said before, I like the knickers and wish all the players would wear them and not those pajama-looking long pants, but I'm still not making a tag for knickers. But if I did, I'd have 12 "knickers" posts now.
Let me highlight the best of those old "knickers" posts. I remembered that the Young Rascals wore knickers. I found this 1926 song with the lyric: "Knickers and trousers, baggy and wide/Nobody knows who's walking inside!" I said that David Brooks: "expatiated about the good old days when men like George Washington displayed their thighs in tight silk knickers."
And, in 2008, before I got together with Meade and started watching baseball again, there were TVs outside State Street Brats just as The Backstreet Boys were singing the national anthem to open the World Series. I blogged: "The players look like hell! When did they stop wearing stockings and knickers? Those long pants look like pajamas."
And there was Meade, the first commenter: "I must be smoking too much blog. I hallucinated." Because the video looked like this:
Key word linking the end of this post to the beginning: brats.
The offensive players come up to the plate and must pursue the end of scoring runs. It is for the defensive team to record outs, and it is only through the achievement of outs that the game can ever end. There is no mercy, nothing that can be done about the humiliation.
MLB HISTORY 🤯
The Brewers' 22-0 win tied the largest shutout victory since the start of 1888! pic.twitter.com/frLpYbI4h0
Interesting, but I am old. I'm permanently freed from worrying over looking old. I am not the "your" in this "by the time your grandmother starts using it" test. I am the grandmother. I mean, I'm not a grandmother. I have no grandchildren. But I'm 75. I'm so far within the age group that there's nothing even to quibble about. It is therefore impossible for me to work on my emojis as a way to look young. My use of any emoji make not only makes me look old. It makes the emoji look old. Apparently, I have the power to make emojis look old.
Just as I'm drafting this post, I'm getting an emoji from Meade, answering a text I sent at 4:30 a.m.:
Being up at 4:30 a.m. makes me look old, as does the inability to watch a baseball game that begins at 9:10 p.m. But if you don't look, you can have a "live" experience in the morning if you're careful where you click, but...
Not being able to see the teeny tiny emojis is also making me look old. But this is my new freedom. Not to care about emojis. They're not for me. They are for teenaged girls.
"So, I was trying to bite, bite, bite. By the time I got to bite it off, it was too late. It was already on TV. I normally cut off the stem. I need something to distract me a bit. I'm playing a kids game and having fun. So, I don’t think it’s a bad look."
I had to ask what's a "Maddux"? Answer: "A Maddux describes a start in which a pitcher tosses a complete-game shutout on fewer than 100 pitches. Named after Hall of Famer Greg Maddux, the term was coined by baseball writer Jason Lukehart."
No, I wasn't watching. That game started at my bedtime — 9 p.m.
I just noticed that there's a team now that's just named the Athletics — no city/state in the name. Just the mascot... and it's the most generic mascot. The Athletics. And they played in Las Vegas last night — "at the site of their Triple-A affiliate, the Las Vegas Aviators." They seem homeless. They're not in Oakland anymore, and their normal home these days is West Sacramento, but not enough of a home to become part of its name. Playing a few games in Las Vegas this week has something to do with Las Vegas being its future home. A new stadium will open in 2028.
But maybe you watched basketball last night. I'd rather watch a random baseball game than an important basketball game, but I did pause the movie I was watching and go downstairs to hear the National Anthem and catch a glimpse of Trump. The NYT says "Mr. Trump smiled and saluted in the face of deafening boos when he briefly appeared on the arena’s video board...." I went back to my movie — "A Complete Unknown," now, finally, on HBO — but I did look up the result this morning. I see Trump ruined everything:
Ooh, that Trump. The Knicks lost. Meanwhile, Bob Dylan won. That's what Joan Baez says to him at the end of the biopic: "You won." He's all "What did I win?" and then he rides off into the sunset on his motorcycle.
"The (Shieldses’) care and respect for their grandfather’s collection — carefully looked after behind closed doors for 116 years — has preserved one of the hobby’s true grails, and the importance of this cannot be overstated."
I don't accept the expression "one of the.... true grails." Don't pluralize "grail." There's one holy grail...
.... and if "grail" applies to baseball card trading, everyone seems to have agreed that it's the Honus Wagner card. But it's not as though there's only one. There are 50 or 60s of these slips of cardboard floating about.
August 2017: Trump said: "I’m not going to rule out a military option.... Venezuela is a mess. We have many options for Venezuela, including a possible military option if necessary."
March 2018: When anti-Trumpers were interpreting Trump's handshake with baseball hero Jose Altuve, I wrote: "I don't know if Altuve talks about politics, but I don't think he's even an American citizen. He's Venezuelan. If I were Venzuelan, I'd be most worried about Venezuela, and looking at Trump, I'd be thinking, is there some way he can help Venezuela?, or, if I was inclined to the hostility anti-Trumpers are seeing in his face — Why hasn't President Trump done something yet about Venezuela?"
February 2019: When Trump was pleading with the Venezuelan military to support Juan Guaido, I wrote: "I was surprised that on the channel I was watching — Fox News — the analysis after the speech was about the 2020 presidential campaign.... People in Venezuela are suffering. They're starving. We need to help. I thought Trump was trying to get something done, but the news folk rush to talk about the damned campaign, as if that's what sophisticated, savvy people do. I found it offensive."
April 2019: Quoting a Swedish journalist in Venezuela: "Two months have passed since I got here and in that time, the possibility of an American intervention in Venezuela has been on everyone’s mind.
— Martyupnorth®- Unacceptable Fact Checker (@Martyupnorth_2) October 30, 2025
I love Rufus Wainwright, but I wasn't paying attention to the introduction. Last night, to me, he was just some guy singing the Canadian national anthem.
Brad Paisley has officially sung the national anthem for:
World Series Game 2 in 2017 (11 innings) World Series Game 3 in 2018 (18 innings) World Series Game 1 in 2024 (10 innings) World Series Game 3 in 2025 (18 innings)
That's published in Asahi Shimbun, one of the largest newspapers in Japan, which I went to read this morning because I wanted to see how much Japanese people were enjoying the excellence of Shohei Ohtani in our World Series. But nothing about Ohtani is in the top 10 most-read stories over there. I had to scroll down the front page to find his name, and it was tucked away in the sports section, just the AP report, here.
Nearly dead people eating popsicles got more attention. It was the second-most-read article. Meanwhile, the top of the front page is dominated by Trump:
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