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It’s tailgate time. But between the relentless wind and bone-chilling cold, there’s nothing about the Milwaukee Brewers’ 2024 home opener that says spring. The 38-degree temperature is mocking, just warm enough to keep buckets of sideways rain from turning into the snow that actually would be preferable.
But nevertheless, grill smoke wafts sluggishly into the dark sky. A sea of multicolored tents attempts to repel the deluge. In one of them, Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville” blares, the irony seemingly lost on the four jersey-wearing guys seeking warmth from a smoldering Weber. What a contrast a few weeks makes, as the warm sun shines on a picture-per- fect, roof-open Sunday of lawn games, socializing and fan-winning foods – all without the threat of frostbite.
Not only are we a hardy bunch in Wisconsin, we love our teams, even when they’re in a slump or when Mother Nature doesn’t cooperate. The social nature of professional sports is more than just a pastime; it’s part of our identity.
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A Nebraskan’s Enlightened Introduction
Flashback to a chilly spring morning in 1989. I enthusiastically jump into a U-Haul box truck near Marquette’s Schroeder Hall – when I say jump, I mean, into the cargo hold. The driver, an 18-year-old home-opener pro named Jon, slides the large back door shut and its payload – a dozen Marquette freshmen, a keg of Old Milwaukee, a small charcoal grill and a styrofoam cooler filled with cheap grillables – is enveloped in complete darkness. The trek to County Stadium is pitch black, bumpy and disorienting. Eventually, the truck lurches to a stop and the throaty engine shuts off.
Seconds later, the door rattles open. The interior, intended more for large furniture than idiot college kids, fills with hazy sunlight. I clamber gratefully out of my ride, adjust my eyes to the brightness, and gaze out at a glorious sea of concrete, 1980s automobiles and delicious grill smoke.
Tailgating is as foreign to me as hitching a ride in the back of a rented moving truck. Hell, when I arrived at Marquette from Nebraska in 1988, I’d never even heard of a bratwurst. But here I am, trading college classes for opening day, Milwaukee’s Mardi Gras. I’m educated on proper parking lot procedures and etiquette, learning that Bob Uecker’s radio pregame is mandatory; it’s perfectly OK to head inside a couple of innings late; and yes, you can drink too much Old Milwaukee.
The energy from scores of fellow parking lot parishioners is electric, and I am hooked. I’ve tailgated countless times since, although thankfully never in a U-Haul.
The Happy Host
David Castillo stands behind a folding table. He espouses his love for tailgating while directing a line of salivating family members by pointing at pots filled with burgers and brats fresh off the grill. The joyful Katrina and the Waves staple “Walking on Sunshine” plays appropriately in the background. “You come to be among friends, have some drinks, have some laughs and good food,” says Castillo. “What better place to do it than the parking lot of the Milwaukee Brewers?”
A group of more than 30 relatives takes over a spot in the parking lot on the third-base side of American Family Field. Castillo skillfully directs the hungry throng like a spatula-wielding traffic cop. The weather is perfect for this bash, and his gang is ready to eat. Everyone brings a dish to pass, but Castillo alone holds the top dog position, saying with a smile, “I’m the grill master.”
The Travelers
You want a cold one?” Augie List Jr. asks as I approach. It’s tempting on a warm day, but not really a good look when you’re wearing a media badge.
It’s apparent that List is a tailgating pro. In addition to the red-and-white checked tablecloth draped neatly over the open tailgate of his pickup, List is wearing a dark blue cook’s apron peppered with Brewers logos. He mans a small propane grill churning out sizzling sausages and tantalizing aromas.
Augie Sr. sits contently in a camping chair, alongside college-aged grandsons Dalton and Drew. “It’s a good time to harmonize with the family before the game,” Augie Sr. says. “We’ve got three generations here.”
The Lists, who hail from Sun Prairie, are savvy veterans of the Wisconsin tailgating scene. American Family Field, Lambeau Field and Camp Randall Stadium are all part of their regular rotation. Augie Jr.’s recollection of parking lot festivities dates back to County Stadium visits as a kid, and he’s been tailgating with his sons “since they were old enough to walk” 22 years ago.
“It’s about conversation, food, drink and camaraderie with other fans,” explains Augie Jr. “I think of all the places we’ve been, Lambeau takes it up a notch. They take it to another level, don’t they?”
The Minimalists
Tailgating, deconstructed. That’s how Brock and April Splittgerber do American Family Field. No big food spread. No cornhole. No grill. No grill?! The unassuming young couple from Whitewater sits contently side by side behind an SUV in camping chairs, washing down Jimmy John’s sandwiches with cans of Terrapin beer.
Their spot in the Uecker lot is ideally positioned near the main walkway connecting the boisterous expanse east of the Menomonee River to the stadium. It’s a fantastic vantage point for the amateur parking lot anthropologists to study the mass of blue-and-gold clad humanity strolling by.
“We don’t really grill out much,” says Brock. “We just grab something on the way, have a few beers. It’s the environment, seeing all of the fans, having some time to chill out and enjoy some cheaper beer before the game.”
The Competitive Bakers
The “Great British Baking Show” and tailgating may make an unusual pairing, but Andrea Lemkelde’s Brewers cadre thinks they go together just fine. The core group – 10 or so college friends from MSOE – has been tailgating at a handful of Friday night games each year since 2007. In 2017, they took the standard visit up a notch and began a baking competition, inspired by the aforementioned TV show. “Some of us like to bake,” says Lemkelde. “We thought it would be one-and-done, but we’ve done it every game.”
After filling up on standard tailgate fare, baking participants share a homemade dessert that adheres to a predetermined theme. Before they head into the ballpark, the bunch samples each and votes anonymously on the winner. (Tiebreakers are determined by lucky parking lot neighbors.)
Previous challenge themes range from the straightforward (cookies, tarts, brownies) to the creative (pretzel bakes, Christmas in July, Hawaiian). The illusion theme – creating a baked good that looked like something else – was won by a clever chef who made “eggs and toast” out of pound cake, whipped cream and lemon curd.
“We’ve tailgated in snow and on very hot days,” adds Lemkelde, who says the weather very much affects their baking plans. “We found out the hard way – when it’s cold, it’s a bad day for caramel.”
The Regulars
Brady Glaeser is bundled in a large coat, hanging out under a tent at his first Brewers home opener. He refrains from joining family members taking a belt of booze from a blue and gold shot-ski and is not wolfing down bratwursts, either. He may partake at a future Glaeser family tailgate, but the 1-year-old needs his primary teeth to come in first, at least.
The wide-eyed toddler was fittingly born on opening day in 2023. Grandparents Brian and Carol Glaeser have been opening day regulars since ’88, and have brought their son Brett and daughters Nikki and Lindsay since the ’90s. This year, Brian has one hand firmly grasping an E-Z Up tent that threatens to blow away in frigid gale-force winds. The rest of the family, most donning matching blue-and-gold striped overalls, huddles by folding tables boasting a spread of staples like tortilla chips, assorted dips, chicken wings and plenty of rum.
The crew are season-ticket holders and make the 90-minute trip from the Manitowoc area. “Tailgating is a ritual that we do [in Wisconsin], whether you be a Packers fan, Brewers fan, Badgers fan,” explains Glaeser. “That’s what makes this place great.”
