Reusse: There’s only one Bob Uecker — forever a baseball funnyman and Milwaukee’s famous ‘cheeser’

The Milwaukee Brewers had suffered personnel losses due to financial limitations and went into the 2024 season with expectations for mediocrity. They wound up with 93 wins, tied for third in the National League, and won the Central Division by 10 games.

The playoffs came and the fans that jammed American Family Field were ready to celebrate, as the Brewers took a 2-0 lead into the ninth of a decisive Game 3 vs. the New York Mets. Devin Williams served up a three-run homer to Pete Alonso, the Mets scored four and Milwaukee’s surprise season was soon over.

Bob Uecker, in his 54th year on Brewers radio, did a wrapup that concluded: “I’m telling you, that one had some sting to it.”

The sting continued more quietly, as Uecker went to the home clubhouse, started moving around the room and saying his goodbyes to the players. It didn’t come off as a goodbye to another season, but to all seasons.

Tom Haudricourt, a long-time Milwaukee baseball writer now retired, said: “Players were overcome with emotion. Ueck talked with Christian Yelich, and when he walked away, Yelich was weeping.”

A couple of weeks later, the Pohlad family announced the Twins were for sale, and I was able to get Bud Selig on the phone to discuss the dramas that led to the building of Target Field. Selig, the main mover who brought big-league baseball back to Milwaukee in 1970, was the MLB commissioner during the 2001 “contraction” scare tactic. He also lobbied with Minnesota politicians when a stadium bill finally passed in 2006.

At the end of our discussion, I asked Selig: “How’s Ueck?”

Selig paused, there was a catch in his voice, and then said: “I am very worried about my dear friend. I’m worried we aren’t going to see him back at the ballpark.”

The trinity of baseball in Milwaukee — Henry Aaron, Uecker and Selig — were all born in 1934. Aaron, Selig’s companion at an untold number of baseball activities, died in Atlanta in January 2021 at 86. Uecker died at his home near Milwaukee on Thursday at 90.

“They were the Three Amigos of Milwaukee baseball,” Haudricourt said. “Only Bud is left. I talked with him today and he’s despondent, as you would expect.”

My conversation with Selig in October included asking this question: “How did you manage to keep Ueck in your radio booth; he had to have endless offers?”

Selig confirmed that quite a few teams tried to lure Uecker, including the Yankees’ George Steinbrenner with a large-money offer.

“I knew we couldn’t outbid George,” Selig said. “I went to Ueck, in a panic really. He said, ‘Don’t worry about it Bud. I’m staying with the Brewers. This is home.’ ”

He would show up in Los Angeles for appearances on “The Tonight Show” as Johnny Carson’s “Mr. Baseball,” and to tape shows as a father on the “Mr. Belvedere” sitcom, but Milwaukee was home. Ueck loved Lake Michigan; he got himself a big boat and spent many summer mornings on that big water.

Paul Molitor came to the Brewers as a rookie infielder in 1978 and stayed for 15 seasons — for the glory, for the downturn, but always with Uecker being on the field and the clubhouse before a game.

“In those early years, Ueck still was throwing batting practice,” Molitor said. “In spring training in Arizona, he’d be there in uniform at 7:30 in the morning, and always threw the first round of hitting.

“We also flew a lot of commercial flights back then. The team would get on first, then the other passengers came on. It was never, ‘Hey, there’s Rollie Fingers, there’s Robin Yount,’ it was always, ‘There’s Ueck. We love ya, Ueck.’ ”

Molitor said, in his view, Uecker had the best quality a celebrity meeting people could ask for: “He didn’t have to work at being funny. He was naturally comedic.”

Uecker was honored by the Baseball Hall of Fame for his excellence in broadcasting in 2003. Haudricourt put it this way: “Ueck was the absolute master of self-deprecation. I was in Cooperstown when he got the Ford Frick Award. They said to him, ‘You have 10 minutes.’ Ueck said, ‘I need 20.’

“And all those old Hall of Famers up there, the guys who come back every year and can’t stand long speeches … they were rolling in the aisles, tears rolling down their faces, elbowing each other in the ribs.”

There was another reason for his immense popularity as the Brewers announcer, Haudricourt said: “He was born in Milwaukee. He was a true cheeser. He understood cheesers 100 percent.”

I got to know Uecker as a Twins beat writer in the 1970s. The Brewers were in the American League, I was a friend of Milwaukee writer Mike Gonring, and if you were a friend of Gonring, you were a friend of Ueck. There had been drinking involved at times.

In 1978, the Twins were playing the Brewers in a couple of exhibitions in Sun City, Ariz. The radio booth was informal there and I went up a few steps to see Ueck.

Between innings, I said: “Ueck, I’m trying to give up drinking. I’ve been dry for almost a week.”

He laughed, and when the play-by-play resumed, Uecker said: “We’ve had a lot of surprises this spring, Molitor, and Sixto Lezcano, but I just got the biggest surprise. Pat Reusse from the St. Paul newspaper said he’s quit drinking.”

A highlight of my life, being dinged by Ueck, and three years later, I actually did quit.