Bushville Wins! by John Klima

Author:John Klima
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

PART III

THE SERIES

11

THE SMELL OF MONEY

The World Series was this town’s big moment, Milwaukee’s opportunity to prove it was a citizen of the world. Ballplayers are often uneasy ambassadors of great causes, but the Braves understood the motivation behind this tremendous civic pride, identified with the great longing for acceptance, and masked fierce pride with love for beer, brats, and brotherhood. “Those people were so good to us,” Henry Aaron said. “We felt like we were going to win, but we really wanted to win for those folks.”

So, the city of Milwaukee shut down to send the Braves off to New York, “bolstered by a hero’s send-off seldom accorded to any David of old,” the Sentinel exclaimed. Fans crammed the Wisconsin Avenue parade route, excitement from clinching the pennant was still fresh, and the crowds were so large that the cops lost count at around 80,000 people. They were screaming and shouting, climbing light poles, hanging out of windows, chasing girls, drinking in the streets, cutting class, and playing hooky from work. Vendors set up shop in the streets, peddling colorful feather headdresses and joke-shop arrows to wear through the head, mugs, lighters, and ashtrays. One guy made up phony labels over cans of Schlitz and hawked Braves beer. Scalpers and counterfeiters did brisk business. Nobody had seen so much bootleg merchandise in the Midwest since Capone ruled Chicago.

The ovation was tremendous and never let up. Some hid cotton in their ears to soften “one of the most enthusiastic spectacles in years,” according to the Sentinel. The parade reached the War Memorial Center for another rally, where ten thousand more fans crammed the joint. Many of the ballplayers were overwhelmed all over again. “The fans, you just can’t say enough about the fans,” Del Crandall said. “They were with us 100 percent. I don’t think that whole scene could ever be duplicated again.”

Fred Haney was made for these moments. Comfortable in front of big crowds and bright lights, he spoke for his ballplayers with élan, and revved up the fans with the same fire and passion he brought to the field. “We are touched,” he told the crowd. “But we’ve only paid half the debt. We’ve got the other half to go.” He was presented with a gold trophy inscribed, TO FRED HANEY, IN APPRECIATION FOR MILWAUKEE’S FIRST NATIONAL LEAGUE PENNANT. Then he put his hands over his head like a champ and bellowed, “This is one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me!” The fans ate it up. Haney walked off the stage, but as he passed a reporter, he confided that his team couldn’t return empty-handed. How could they break Milwaukee’s heart? “We can’t let them down,” he said.

The Braves hopped back into their convertibles and inched toward Mitchell Field, where maybe another 10,000 fans lined the route and crammed the airport. Milwaukee would give anything—anything—for a glimpse of their Braves. A woman ran up to the car carrying Warren Spahn and Lew Burdette and held her baby up for the pitchers to kiss for good luck.

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