Chapter 1—"Mr. Baseball '' Enters the Booth

I knew Bob Uecker had a strong baseball background when he became my Milwaukee Brewers broadcast partner in 1971. I also knew he had much more.

When Bob finished his major league playing career with the Atlanta Braves, he moved back to Milwaukee, his hometown, to become a special assignment scout with the Brewers in addition to representing the team on special public relations assignments. He already was fairly well known on the banquet circuit because of his quick wit and humor, a talent that had landed him on the Johnny Carson Tonight Show several times.

Bob had a large following throughout Wisconsin, so it was only natural that he would be tapped to join Tom Collins and me on the Brewers radio and TV broadcasts. The next year Collins moved into the ad agency front office and Bob became my full-time partner.

It was easy to see that Uke would become an outstanding baseball broadcaster. His reputation as a prankster and all-around funny man during his playing career did not diminish the fact that he was an extremely intelligent baseball man.

He was a fine catcher, with a strong throwing arm, and a good handler of pitchers. When I made reference to that on the air he would reply, "You're killing my reputation!"

Well, he did homer off Sandy Koufax—twice. Koufax probably is still trying to figure out how Uke did it. Uke's 14 career home runs and .200 lifetime batting average over six years earned him the title of "Mr. Baseball."

In 1974, after four years in Milwaukee, the Brewers had made little progress and decided to bring up their best prospects from the minor leagues. One of those prospects was an 18-year-old shortstop named Robin Yount. It was the start of the Brewers' climb to respectability and ultimate success. It also was the year that Merle and Bob hit their stride as a broadcast team.

It all began on a Brewer charter flight to New York early in the season. Someone got Bob started on some baseball stories and he had everyone laughing all the way to the Big Apple. The laughter continued on the bus from LaGuardia airport to the team's midtown hotel. Uke was still on a roll on the bus trip from the hotel to the stadium late that afternoon. By game time everyone was loose.

I always opened the broadcast by identifying where the game was being played and who the opposing pitchers were. Leading into the pre-game commercial I would simply say, "Bob will be back with the lineups after this message." Coming out of the commercial I then would say, "Now here's Bob with the lineups." At which time he would give the same and I would start the play-by-play.

In previous games I had talked about Bob's speaking appearances at various functions and our listeners always had an interest in hearing the exploits of their hometown product. Milwukeeans loved the guy.

Anyway, I came out of the commercial that night and introduced Bob with, "Now here he is, just back from Capetown, South Africa, where he was the keynote speaker at the International Convention of  Fake Diamond Cutters, Bob Uecker with the lineups for tonight's game."

Bob looked at me as if I had lost my mind but he didn't bat an eye.

"Capetown, South Africa," he said fondly. "I never thought this little old boy from Milwaukee would be invited to a place like that. As Merle said, I was there to address the Fake Diamond Cutters. I didn't even know those guys existed."

By now, I was thinking Bob was the one who was crazy. But he wasn't through. He went on to describe in minute detail the special instruments they used to cut the fake diamonds. He spoke with such authority he almost had me convinced those guys really existed. He wrapped up his dissertation in about forty-five seconds saying, "Yes, it was a great trip to South Africa but it sure is good to be back in the good old USA. Now here are the lineups."

I was flabbergasted. All I could think of was what our listeners, and especially Brewer owner Bud Selig, would say the next day. One thing for sure, they were going to think Harmon and Uecker should be confined in an institution. To make matters worse, the Brewers lost to the Yankees in extra innings.

I didn't have to wait long for a reaction. The first person I saw in the hotel lobby the next morning was Bud Selig. He had just flown in from Milwaukee and bemoaned the fact that the Brewers had played such a marvelous game but lost. Then he brightened.

"Say, you and Bob had a lot of fun before the game last night," Selig said. "I was driving to the airport in Milwaukee and I caught your act. I thought Uke was hilarious. You guys really were having fun. I hope you keep it up. Maybe it will carry over to our fans coming into our own ballpark. We want to provide our fans entertainment at our games just like you guys did on the broadcast last night."

I was speechless. Was he kidding me? Bob and I decided to find out.

 The next night, without telling Uke where he "had been", I struggled to think of something. Suddenly I remembered reading in the morning paper a story crediting Boyertown, Pennsylvania, as the casket manufacturing capital of the United States. So I said, "Now, just back from Boyertown, Pennsylvania, where he addressed the National Casket Manufacturing Association Convention, here's Bob Uecker with the lineups."

It was show time. "Boyertown, Pennsylvania," Uke started. "Boyertown is about thirty miles from Philadelphia and I was there many times when I was playing for the Phillies. As Merle said, I was there for the National Casket Manufacturers Convention and I was honored to be the starter for the famous casket races which are held as part of the convention. Those races are really terrific. They're similar to the Soap Box Derby. They put wheels on these caskets and line 'em up at the top of the hill on Main Street. Then they cut 'em loose and they roll down to the finish line. Since no power is allowed, the skill of the driver is very important. Of course, someone always has to cheat and this one guy put an 80-horsepower motor in his casket. Naturally, he quickly roared out in front of the others. By the time he passed Fourth Street he was clocking 60 miles per hour and raised up out of the casket to see where he was. Just then the town drunk staggered out of a bar. When the drunk saw the driver and the speeding casket zoom by . . . well, the guy has never taken another drink. Now, let's get to the lineups."

Bob's pre-game monologue continued on every broadcast for the next year and a half. They became so popular that fans flooded our mail boxes with suggestions where Bob would speak next. They even wrote scripts on how I would introduce Bob and what he would say. The fans really were having fun with us.

And the fans had so much fun when they came to County Stadium to watch the Brewers play that attendance soared from 600,000 the previous year to over one million. It wasn't long until the team became a pennant contender and attendance continued to climb.

I couldn't believe a couple of fans' reactions. Bob was on a radio talk show in Milwaukee and a lady called and told him she was recently divorced and discovered her ex-husband had given her a fake diamond. She asked Bob where she could find one of the fake diamond cutters he had talked about on that Brewers broadcast. Without hesitation, Uke responded, "Just check the Yellow Pages."

"Oh, thank you very much!" the lady replied gleefully and hung up.

 I attended a party one night and a group of doctors were there. One respected physician came over to me and gave this advice. "Tell your friend Bob he'd better slow down. He can't be running all over the country and the world making speeches on his off days and between games. Nobody can go without sleep like that, not even doctors. Tell him to slow down or he'll be in my hospital."

I was astonished when I realized the doctor was really serious. It just proved that the key word in radio is "believability."*30* 

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