Unlike the elder (five whole years elder) Rob Peterson, I can’t lay down explicit detail about where I was and how I felt the day that the Milwaukee Brewers lost Game 7 of the 1982 World Series. The truth is that I lived many of the details of the 1982 season for the first time while we relived them during the past four months. But I can try to put into words what that team meant to me and still means to me this day.

Many of my youngest memories as a child growing up in Wisconsin are around two things: baseball in general or the Brewers more specifically. As a first grader in 1981, I knew every Milwaukee Brewer, their uniform number and batting stance. My older brother and I would have games in the back yard or on one of the dozens of family camping trips where we’d act out game action.

We were The Batting Stance Guy before there was a Batting Stance Guy. [Note: You can watch BSG imitate some of my favorite stances here.] We knew that Ben Oglivie was left-handed and had an up-right, crazy-caffeinated approach. He waggled the bat up high, almost nervously. So did we. Cecil Cooper, on the other hand, took the opposite approach. Also a lefty, he was just too damned cool to get worked up. Slow, laid back, low and relaxed. Cecil Cooper didn’t hit like Rod Carew, Rod Carew hit like Cecil Cooper. Because of those two players, I became a quasi-switch hitter at a young age.

You remember the little things, but not many of the details as a six and seven year-old. Coop was my favorite player, and there’s a picture of me decked out in Brewers gear with a hand-made COOOOOOOP! cardboard sign before heading to County Stadium. Everyone loved Rollie Fingers, and you can bet my brother and I made our own fake handlebar mustaches to look like him.

The sad thing is that I was not in Wisconsin when the Brewers went to the World Series in 1982. Soon after my last day of first grade, we left for a year in Iowa during the summer of 1982. No more Bob Uecker. No more local coverage.

It’s funny, really. For many years, I forgot why it was there was a gap when recalling the 1982 season. Yet I could remember things from 1981. It’s mainly because I was cut off from watching, listening to and even reading about the Brewers for that glorious year.

I remember KNOWING about what was happening at the end of the 1982 season against the Orioles. And the insanity that happened against the Angels. And I’ll always remember that Rollie was hurt, the Brewers destroyed the Cardinals in a game before the Cardinals returned the favor. Little things.

But I didn’t remember the details of how each game was lost, likely because I didn’t see them all. Or hear about them. Or see the newspaper pictures. Or see the stories retold over and over on the local news. So looking back, I really missed out on that experience.

But it was the awesomeness of this team that started coming together in the late 70s and early 80s that got me hooked on the Brewers. We moved to Iowa and I remained a fan. We came back to Wisconsin for a year, then hit the road for Michigan for five. I could have become a Tigers fan, being in Tigers country and having regular access to Ernie Harwell. But I didn’t. I hated the Tigers.

Not even during the rough times of the mid-80s. I wore my Brewers apparel with pride. In 1987, I remember that glorious 13-0 start. My brother and I charted each win and loss throughout the season on graph paper. There was that nice 13 game spike, but also a 12 game drop later. We recorded one of the nationally televised games that happened somewhere around win 11. Robin, Molly, Cooper and Gantner were the only guys left from 1982. I remember being in our living room, listening to the amazing Easter Sunday game when Dale Sveum and Rob Deer hit ninth inning homers to extend the streak.

I remember becoming a BJ Surhoff fan that year, and getting to watch a rare nationally televised Brewers game against the Yankees in County Stadium. Bottom of the ninth (or was it the 10th?) of a back and forth game, BJ at the plate with the bases loaded. Crowd chanting, “BJ! BJ! BJ!” What does he do? Lays down a bunt. Base hit, game over.

I saw BJ later that year at a baseball card show in Michigan. In fact, we only went to that show because he was going to be there. Decked out in my Brewers attire, I approached what seemed to be a god-like figure to me then behind the raggedy table.

“I like your uniform.”

I just stood there, stunned. Probably laughed and said something back awkwardly. But it was awesome.

We lived in Michigan, but my brother and I listened to every game on the radio. Yes, it was close to impossible, but we bought some antenna wire and taped it up on my brother’s wall to listen to Uecker call the games. We often had to battle the static and thunderstorms, but we didn’t miss a game.

What does 1987 have to do with 1982? The point is that I became a baseball fan because of the team that became the 1982 Brewers. I remained a Brewers fan even though the ages I became a fan were at five and six. It’s because the players on that particular team, the team that would eventually play in and lose the World Series in 1982, were special.

I regularly meet people who have transplanted to a new city and state as an adult and then become a fan of that new team. Or fans who are so tired of their team’s lack of success that they find a “second team.” These people disgust me. I guess this is why.

I would later spend high school in Wisconsin, but I’ve spent a total of about 11 years in the Cheese State. Four of those hardly count because I was either pooping myself or too young to care. But I’m still a Milwaukee Brewers fan, the most loyal there can be. And why?

Because of those 1982 Milwaukee Brewers, that’s why. They didn’t always win. They were far from perfect. They didn’t play great defense. They had deficiencies in the bullpen. But they were a fun bunch of dudes. Gorman, Robin, Molly, Coop, Rollie, Benji, Charlie, Vuke, Simmons, Gantner… Hell, even Roy Howell.

No, not Roy Howell. I hated that red-bearded bastard. But I loved those Brewers.

To say that the Brewers’ Game 7 loss to the St. Louis Cardinals hit me 100 times harder than most Brewers fans may seem like hyperbole, but considering what I had to do the morning after has stuck with me forever.

I was 12 and in seventh grade at Eighth Street Middle School in downtown Milwaukee and Brewers Fever had swept through the school thanks to Typhoid Molly, Rockin’ Robin and the infectious play of the Crew. Plenty of us willingly succumbed to the symptoms — staring wide-eyed at Robin’s historic season, shortness of breath as the Brewers rally in the late innings, profuse sweating as the Crew plays a game with the season on the line.

Some of us had been in the throes of it for years, even when the Crew wasn’t rewarding us with good baseball. It started early with a trip to County Stadium for Helmet Day or Ball Day or Cushion Day and continued when Bud Selig brought the all-time home run king, Henry Aaron — “Hammerin’ Hank” — back to Milwaukee. You were crushed when they traded George “the Boomer” Scott to Boston for some guy named Cecil Cooper, but adopted Coop’s batting stance when, as a left-handed batter, you saw how effective it was in reducing the strike zone and how it helped to see the ball out of the pitcher’s hand without sacrificing power. You remember your dad picking you up at daycare after school and having him tell you the Brewers scored 11 runs to win their home opener against the Baltimore Orioles. You can’t forget the ’78 and ’79 seasons when the Crew was good enough to give fans hope and the phrase “Wait ‘Til Next Year” some bite. You remember Sixto Lezscano’s grand slam on Opening Day in 1980 and you remember Bambi’s heart attack derailing the season.

You remember the ’81 second-half title — and forgot the strike — because you were there on that gray Saturday in the left field grandstands thanks to Brewers/Pepsi Fan Club tickets you could use at any time during the second half of the season. You remember cheering until you were hoarse and then getting home and watching the news, basking in the beautiful, simple words Bob Uecker used to describe the clincher:

“Rollie’s ready and here he comes one-two. Suh-wing and a miss. Goodbye, Detroit, hello New York!”

And of course, the ’82 season — the hopes, the dreams, the desires — all coming to fruition in Baltimore and against California only to have it come crashing down in St. Louis. Want to know how naive I was? How much of a fan? I believed that in the ninth if the Brewers could load the bases, Roy Howell — Roy Howell — could hit a grand slam to put the Crew ahead 7-6.

That was part of the naivete. The magic had run out. The dream had died. It was no coincidence the line that flashed across the screen when I finally managed to turn off the TV resembled that of flatline on an electrocardiogram. I wept as hard as I ever had.

It didn’t help that I had to wake up in six hours and deliver the Milwaukee Sentinel to nearly 75 customers in the River West neighborhood. There was a picture of a woman at a bar, head down just behind a half-guzzled beer. I don’t remember the headline, but it probably had “loss” or “fall” in it. Every time I pulled a paper out of the bag, I saw that painful image. Every time it plopped on a stoop, it sounded like a slap in the face. It took me and my brother, who was with me that morning, half the route before we realized that we could turn the paper over and deliver it without the constant reminder of the pain of Game 7.

If anything, the parade down Wisconsin Ave. the day after the Game 7 loss was both an enervating and an inspiring show of love for a team that fell short of its ultimate goal. Though at times we became queasy, Brewers fans couldn’t get enough of the thrill ride that was the ’82 season. After Buck Rodgers was fired and Harvey Kuenn turned them loose, we threw our hands in the air and screamed in delight as we went along for a great ride. The parade and the ceremony at County Stadium were just the cars pulling into the station. The journey had been unprecedented. It had been excellent — at the plate, in the field, on the mound, in the stands, by the grills in the Stadium parking lot and in Brewers fans’ hearts.

While it may have looked strange to outsiders to see a city throw a parade for a bunch of losers, that’s not how it felt to us. We had to thank them somehow. They had won us over and Brewers fever had not abated, not even at Eighth Street Middle School. It was a school so small it didn’t have a gym and they had to bus students over to the old Lincoln High Gym on Ogden and Cass.

That Thursday, our bus had to go around the parade route to get to the gym, but we followed our usual route West on Wisconsin Ave. on the way back. Just as the last of the parade was making its way to County Stadium. The crowds had thinned, yet it still must have been strange to see a school bus take up the rear.

But it wasn’t, at least not to us. Time has dulled the memory of who started the chant, but inspired by going down the same route as our heroes, the students on the bus broke out in one loud, constant “Here We Go Brewers, Here We Go” chant until we pulled up in front of the school, where, thankfully, our teachers let us watch Robin Yount ride into the welcome home ceremony on television.

We still had the fever.

We still do.

When you go to the World Series, you wouldn’t expect much to change. But when you fall one win shy of taking the title, you need to examine every aspect of the club.

Well, except shortstop. The Crew is set there. And first base. The Brewers are set there as well. And third. Second, too. Also catcher.

As you can see from our grades (hitters | pitchers) it was a very good year.

OK, OK, so the Brewers have few if any holes in a lineup that led the majors in homers (216), RBI (843) and runs (891) and nearly every other offensive category. When your No. 9 hitter bats .295, things are good.

As for the pitching, the offense covered a lot of the deficiencies on the mound, especially the thin pen and Rollie Fingers’ injury. Throughout the season, the defense was adequate. There are no defensive wizards like St. Louis’ Ozzie Smith, but no complete hackery in the field either. They could use more speed in the outfield, but they cover the angles well enough.

Yet, the Crew can’t expect everything to go as well as it did in 1982. It was historic in nearly every manner possible which is why the Brewers need to look at what they have and see how they can improve in 1983.

As for the infield, there is little room for improvement. We noted earlier that Jim Gantner hit .295 and he was the weak link at the plate for that group. With Paul Molitor at third, Robin Yount at short, Gantner at second and Cecil Cooper at first, the Brewers have the best infield in the majors. They could be together for another five years.

The Brewers do need to shore up their bench. Don Money had a great season (.284), but he’s 35 years old. Roy Howell didn’t provide much pop off the bench. The Crew needs to find a regular DH instead of platooning Money and Howell. They also need to find one decent backup infielder. Ed Romero is fine for spot duty, but you don’t want him playing long stretches if, god forbid, one of the regulars goes down.

At catcher, Ted Simmons is only 32, but he has a lot of miles on him. The Crew is set for another three or four years here, but need to develop a backstop for the future. Ned Yost isn’t it.

The outfield is also pretty much set with Ben Oglivie in left, Gorman Thomas in center and Charlie Moore in right. Benji is 33 and, although he hit 34 taters, his bat looks slow as he hit .244. Gorman played hurt for the last part of the season. While Moore may have Roberto Clemente’s arm, he has Roberta Flack’s bat. Mark Brouhard is the heir apparent in right, but his bat has to wake up. The Crew could use another solid left-handed bat in the outfield as well as Marshall Edwards is 29 and slight at the plate.

Pitching is where the biggest improvement needs to be made. As Loomer noted in his pitching grades, the rotation hadn’t solidified until Don Sutton arrived. Now, they have Sutton, an innings-eater in Mike Caldwell and Cy Young winner Pete Vuckovich. The Crew rotated through Jim Slaton, Moose Haas and Bob McClure at the bottom of the rotation, but they could use another solid lefty at No. 4 and let Haas anchor the bottom of the rotation. Doc Medich has retired.

If the Brewers are able to re-sign the free agent McClure, a former starter, he could work as a long reliever, as could Slaton. It would also be nice to see a fireballer in short relief. If Rollie Fingers can return to full health, the Brewers don’t need a closer. If not, they need to look at getting some help. Ladd performed well in the ALCS, but blew up in Game 2 of the World Series. He did strike out 12 in 16 innings.

But that’s about it. The great thing about this team is it’s built to win for another two to three seasons. A couple tweaks here and there, and next year at this time, we could be talking about the Crew’s first World Series championship.