Remembering Bob Uecker

Without his familiar voice, hearty laugh, sly
chuckle, this season’s airwaves are boring.
Devoted listeners try to like the play-by-play:
more statistics, less story-telling. Not the same.

How many times over these 50 years did I:
reposition the radio, jiggle the cord
shush my husband, put my ear to the speaker
scrunch aluminum foil onto the antenna

all in hopes of picking his words
out of the static, hearing the end
of his self-deprecating story, or
waiting for that famous call:

“Get up, get up, get outta here-gone!”
I bought Usinger’s brats because of him.
Cedar Crest ice cream. I drew the line
at Miller Lite, but I loved him still.

His interwoven tales of kids with cancer
“strike one,” the Ronald McDonald House
“fast ball just inside-one and one”
why we should donate, “strike two”

wishes granted, lives saved, miracles even
“and a slider at the knees-heeee struck him out.”
A good man, true Milwaukeean
who made even the bad games good.

He loved practical jokes in the clubhouse
Throwing batting practice, manicuring the lawn,
welcoming the new guys: the greenhorns who named
their babies after him, the lifetime friendships made.

Oh how he would hate the tributes!
The attention, the moments of silence
the statues, his signature on the field
the wearing of his plaids!

But he would’ve endured.
For the players, for the fans
for the “fellas in the booth”
he’d blush, change the subject
carry on.

Carrie Sherrill writes from her 100+ year old farmhouse in rural Door County. Her work has been published in WFOP calendars, Moss Piglet, Bramble, and most recently on the Poetry Trail at Newport State Park. Carrie and her husband Peter have recently been appointed Poets Laureate for Door County 2025-2027.