So, I got this idea in my head about “Badgerland baseball.” Not the Brewers, mind you, but the real local stuff. The kind of games you stumble upon in a town park on a Saturday afternoon. I figured, how hard could it be? Just find a game, maybe even toss a ball around myself. I used to play a bit, you know, just for fun, and thought it’d be a good way to get out.
First off, finding any solid info was a trip. You’d think in a state that loves its sports, there’d be websites, schedules, something. Nah. It was more like detective work. Asking around at local diners, squinting at faded flyers pinned to a community board. It felt like trying to uncover some hidden society.
I finally tracked down a league, or what seemed like one. Showed up to a field one evening. And let me tell you, it was… authentic. The field wasn’t exactly pristine. The scoreboard was one of those old manual ones, and I think a kid was in charge of changing the numbers, when he remembered to.
The game itself was a whole different beast. These guys weren’t spring chickens, most of ’em, but they played with serious intensity. Arguments with the ump, who was probably someone’s cousin. Cheers from a handful of folks in lawn chairs. It wasn’t slick, not by a long shot. Dropped balls, wild pitches, but also some surprisingly good plays that made everyone roar.
I got to talking with one of the guys after. Asked him how one might, you know, get involved. He just laughed. Said, “You just gotta show up, keep showin’ up. Maybe bring some brats for after.” Seemed like that was the secret handshake. It wasn’t about tryouts or sign-up sheets. It was about persistence and probably a willingness to help clean up the field.
This whole thing reminded me of my first job trying to get a community garden project off the ground in my old neighborhood. Everyone said they wanted it. Everyone had an opinion. But getting folks to actually dig? Or agree on what to plant where? It was like herding cats. We spent weeks just trying to decide on the type of fence. Weeks! And here I was again, feeling that same mix of “this is chaos” and “this is kinda great.”
I did keep showing up to those Badgerland games. Mostly watched, helped chase a few foul balls. Haven’t quite broken into a game yet. It’s not like they’re unfriendly, not at all. It’s just… their thing. A tight-knit world that you don’t just waltz into. It’s got its own rhythm, its own rules, mostly unwritten.
So, the “practice” of Badgerland baseball for me turned out to be less about playing, and more about observing this little slice of local culture. It’s rough around the edges, a bit disorganized, maybe even a little cliquey. But it’s real. It’s not manufactured for an audience. It’s just people playing ball because they love it. And honestly, there’s something pretty solid about that. I’m still working on the “bringing brats” part. Maybe that’s the next step in my grand plan.
