So Long, Mr. Baseball. A Tribute to Bob Uecker

Me and "Uecker" in the Uecker Seats at Miller Park in 2016

“Get up, get up, get outta here–gone!”

I’ve been hearing the voice of baseball broadcasting legend Bob Uecker since I was in utero. Some people say that playing classical music for your baby while they’re in your womb can make them smarter or at least allow them to appreciate classical music. Perhaps the same is true for baseball. I grew up with a baseball game always on the radio, and by the time I had my first conscious thought about it, baseball was deep in my bones.

Called “America’s Pastime” or “The Great American Game,” I think baseball speaks to me like no sport can due in equal parts to my exposure to it growing up and its inherent nostalgia. 

I’ve noticed that there are not many other English major, bookish people who like sports like I do. I love almost all sports, and certainly all popular American sports, and I think baseball was the catalyst for this. Perhaps growing up in the Midwest also played a part, but that’s a post for a different day. I’ve long thought it would be my dream job to combine my love for baseball with my love for writing and to be a content creator for the Brewers. 

Bob Uecker embodied all that is best about baseball. He brought that signature nostalgia, but he also knew how to keep up with the times. Every game he called was worth listening to. If the Brewers were winning, it was especially exciting, but I remember games when they were losing 10-0 that I wouldn’t turn off because he would tell funny stories or shoot the breeze in a way that made you feel like you were right there with him.

He also embodied a brand of genuine positivity and zest for life that is a hallmark of the Midwest. I see it in my Grandma and other family members. I don’t think I’ve inherited it; I am prone to existential pondering and melancholy, but perhaps this is why I appreciate it all the more. 

Whether it was spring training games in the Cactus League when Milwaukee was still covered in a foot of snow or balmy summer evenings when it stayed light till past 9 p.m., Bob Uecker’s voice was a constant from my earliest days. And even though he was great at telling old stories and reminiscing, I don’t actually think he was an old soul as I am. He was a radio broadcaster, and unlike many millennials, I think, I grew up on radio more than TV. I never knew how any of the Brewers players looked physically because I never saw them unless it was in person at Miller Park (or County Stadium), but I could tell you about their batting averages or their personalities because I listened to practically every game.

Dad took me to the last game ever played at County Stadium. I still have the tickets. $16 were not the cheap seats back then!

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t like baseball and Bob Uecker, but I was probably an early teen when I started to truly follow the Brewers of my own accord and not just because my Dad and extended family did. For an entire season one year I even recorded the highlights of each game, the score, and the “Chevy Dealers Star of the Game” in a spiral-bound notebook. I must still have it somewhere. I would fall asleep every night in my basement bedroom listening to the Brewers on my ancient CD player/radio that I got for my tenth birthday, knowing that my Dad was also listening to the game a floor above.

Uecker’s play-by-play was the backdrop to playing catch with my Dad, siblings, and neighbor kids on our dead-end street, to evenings fishing Up North, to roadtrips, to mundane Tuesday evenings at home. In short, to practically everything. His voice–the voice of Brewers baseball, and, it could be argued, baseball in general–was woven into the fabric of my life.

I brought a love of baseball, the Brewers, and Uecker with me to college in Virginia. I could no longer listen to games from a local Wisconsin radio station, so I purchased a subscription to MLB Audio, which I have renewed every year since. 

My Aunt gave me these Bob Uecker Russian nesting dolls

I’ve said before that baseball has not only been the backdrop to good times but was there to get me through hard times, too. When my then-boyfriend and I got into a huge argument (it’s a long story from a very bad relationship) and I thought I might be stranded in New York, miles from my college home back in Virginia, I turned the Brewers on and Uecker’s voice brought me calm and the sense that everything would be alright. 

That was the first time I remember being cognizant of the fact that baseball, and particularly Uecker’s voice, had that effect on me. I literally credit his voice and the game of baseball for getting me through that tumultuous situation (I truly think God used baseball and Uecker’s voice to minister to me in that moment). 

There were so many other times when Uecker’s comforting, upbeat voice got me through tough situations. After the traumatic birth of my first son (and a lapse in baseball during the pandemic), baseball was a balm to my soul that spring of 2021 and into the summer as we emerged from the newborn haze and COVID restrictions. I remember long summer nights nursing and rocking my precious firstborn (who took ages to put to bed) with the companion of Uecker’s voice calling balls and strikes, the clammy Virginia heat and smell of summer all around me.

And I remember thinking about how I was glad my second son would be born during baseball season because I knew that, again, it would be a rock for me. I labored all through the night hours, so there was no baseball on during his actual birth, but listening to the games for the next couple days while sitting in the hospital bed with my new baby provided normalcy and comfort.

I always wanted to meet Uecker. I am not one to fangirl over celebrities, but he was someone I always dreamed of meeting. I think, in some way, I felt like he’d truly see me. I think, perhaps, I felt that way because his voice was so ingrained in the fabric of my family and we referred to him as if he was someone we knew personally. I realize that a lot of people felt that way. I think that was his magic.

I also think that baseball and Uecker are dear to me because they are a connecting bond with my family, and particularly my Dad. I wrote about that more in a post from several years ago. 

The 2025 baseball season will be tinged with loss for me and for so many others (and certainly all Brewers fans), but Bob Uecker’s legacy gives me renewed interest in America’s Pastime (not that my interest ever lagged, but still). 

To some, sports are superficial, “just a game,” or something only for people who did or do play sports themselves at whatever level. Sports can be those things, but I think they interest so many and have had enduring power because they have the potential to transcend all those things and access a very fundamental level of what it means to be human. At its best, baseball provides an opportunity for connection between people and fosters a shared history among families and the broader fanbase. Baseball offers an opportunity not just to listen or watch but to participate. 

I know Uecker must have understood this. 

I will always hear his “Still plenty of room for ya, folks. Come on out” as an invitation not only to a game at Miller Park (or American Family Field now), but as a welcome to be part of a shared human experience, no matter your background or individual pursuits. 

If you take anything from this reminiscence? eulogy? reflection? I hope it’s that baseball is a unifier, and so was Uecker. It might not be baseball for you. Baseball is special to me, but that’s in large part because I grew up with it. But whatever your “baseball” is, it’s worth reflecting on its impact. I’m so glad I have done so long before we lost Uecker, a national treasure. 

True to form, “Angels in the Outfield” was my favorite movie growing up, and in that movie, there’s a heartfelt scene in which Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who plays the main character Roger, asks his foster mom if she believes in angels. It may be whimsical or even a little cheesy, but if there is a deeper element to that movie, I think it’s that baseball lends itself to the unseen and the spiritual. I don’t think it’s any one thing–not the uniforms, the rules of the game, or even the stadiums or the history, but everything taken together transcends the physical trappings. 

This is ironic (and delightful) to me, seeing as the Midwest is probably the most “down-to-earth” part of the country and Uecker’s stories and play calling were always so grounded in the physical reality of human life on earth. Yet the magic of baseball is that the physical ability to hit a game-tying home run or the physical sounds of thousands of fans rising to their feet and booing or cheering or holding their breath point to baseball’s transcendent power to tap into human emotions and the experiences that makes us feel alive. 

Uecker undeniably had a gift–for broadcasting, for being a welcoming presence on air (and I have no doubt off air too), for humor, and for storytelling. He has made me realize that, instead of a pleasant escape when things are challenging, baseball can be part of what grounds us and brings hope.

I’ll always be grateful for that, Ueck.

My Godmother got me this Bob Uecker talking alarm clock several years ago. "Get up, get up, get out of bed!"

*Note: I was going to title this post something about "Ueckatastrophe," but decided to spare those of you who are not English major book nerds like me!