Marilyn Vollrath and Sue Bellehumeur work together to promote adult literacy.

Cedarburg’s Marilyn Vollrath is the vice chairperson of Milwaukee Achiever Literacy Services, Inc. "One of the things that distinguishes us from other learning centers is our dedication to one-on-one tutoring," Vollrath explains. "We have a lot of former teachers who’ve volunteered their expertise and combined it with their interest in helping others."

Nothing is too rudimentary for students in the program. If a tutor needs to start with the basics, the alphabet, basic addition, then that’s where they’ll begin. "Some students will come to us and say ‘my job requires me to do certain addition and I can’t do it,’" Vollrath says. "That is the kind of thing we can help them with.

Bellehumeur says the program has a strict assessment program that monitors the skill levels of each new student. "If we get someone in that says they want a G.E.D in a year, but lack some of the basic skills to achieve it in that time frame, it’s our duty to be honest with them and set some more realistic goals," Bellehumeur says. "We depend on our site coordinators to make these types of assessments. Some of our tutors have a Ph.D. in their respective fields but choose to teach remedial math to students because that’s what they want to do. That’s in their comfort zone."

After years of complaining they couldn’t compete in a small market venue, Wisconsin taxpayers forked over the money for Miller Park. The Brewers were hoping Miller Park would ultimately be a kind of panacea to problems in both attendance and in attracting top baseball talent to the city.

"A prime example of baseball’s current woes is the Kansas City Royals," Czaban continues. "The Royals will get about $19 million in ‘revenue sharing’ from luxury tax teams like the Yankees and Mets. So what did they do with that money? Not just nothing. It was less than nothing, as they cut payroll by $10 million." Czaban says the Brewers’ best hope is to root for baseball’s economics to bankrupt several teams, while sparing themselves. "Then, and only then, will there be real change. In the meantime, enjoy the brats and the fact you won’t freeze to death on opening day. Otherwise, there is no hope. None. Do not shoot me for being honest."

Tony Bellissimo is a sports writer based in New York City. While his assessment of the Brewers’ future isn’t as dark as Czaban’s, he believes a lot of work lies ahead for the team’s new officers. "In a nutshell, lower-market teams will need to load up on pitching and invest as little as possible on position players," Bellissimo explains. "Or they have to increase efforts to try and land one major free agent, no matter what the position. A guy like Jim Thome can attract others to Philadelphia now that he’s there. It would also boost morale."

It’s not unusual for a team to scrap everything and start over as the Indians did in the ‘90s. The opening of Miller Park did increase attendance numbers during its first year of operation, as expected, but another on-field record like last year could prove to be catastrophic for the team. "The Brewers need to trade Sexson and Jenkins and go after some pitchers," Bellissimo continues. "They currently have a pretty good foundation with Ben Sheets and Glendon Rusch, so all is not lost for the near future."

Ken Rosenthal is a senior writer and covers baseball for the Sporting News. Rosenthal doesn’t think the Brewers should be throwing in the towel at this point. "Of course the Brewers can be competitive again, but it’s going to take time," Rosenthal intones. "They need to escape their big contracts, nurse their young talent and improve through scrap-heap additions like minor-league free agents and Rule V draft picks. I do believe their new general manager Doug Melvin will get them on the right track."

Gregg Hoffman is a senior lecturer in mass communications at UWM and has covered the Brewers since the early ‘80s for numerous local and national publications. "I believe it is possible for the Brewers to put a competitive team on the field once again, but not for two to three years," Hoffman cautions. "Doug Melvin is an experienced general manager, something they haven’t had since Harry Dalton. Some players at AA also show potential, and there will be more shared revenue coming their way. I think the progress could be accelerated if some investor would come in with $30-$40 million, to be spent just on baseball talent." The search for such an investor has proven fruitless up to this point and Milwaukee doesn’t have a host of benefactors capable of coming up with that kind of cash.

The Diamond Angle, a popular Web site featuring profiles of just about all of the Major League teams, is run by David Marasco. "Montreal was competitive last year," Marasco reminds us. "If they can do it, anyone can do it. The Brewers need to start by admitting that they are in a hole, take it on the nose and resolve that it is better to have some 90-100 loss seasons than to continue to try to patch huge holes with expensive solutions, play some kids, build through the minors, and stop whining about how market forces make life impossible while they line their pockets with green."

As a few of the pundits indicated above, Milwaukee must cultivate and nurture some of the young talent they already have in their farm systems. First baseman Brad Nelson has some untapped power at a young age and projects as a classic cleanup hitter. David Krynzel has found some patience at the plate and could emerge as a legitimate centerfielder. He’s found patience and power but sacrificed average in the process. First baseman Prince Fielder, the son of the voluminous and ball splitting Cecil Fielder, is just as big as his old man, has a good knowledge of the strike zone, and could move up to Miller Park fairly quickly.

Joe Rutter is a baseball writer for the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review and he knows what it’s like to observe a struggling baseball franchise like the Pirates. "Like our team in Pittsburgh, the Brewers have learned that a new ballpark does not cure all ills," Rutter explains. "The Brewers, though, could steal a page from the Pirates blueprint in trying to get back to respectability. Thanks to innovative management strategies by GM Dave Littlefield, the Pirates will field their strongest team since 1992, when they last had a winning season."

Rutter believes the Brewers, under the guidance of new general manager Doug Melvin, would be wise to spend their dollars prudently, pour their resources into scouting and development and make few mistakes when doling out big contracts.

Bob Dvorchak is an award winning sports writer for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and says the Pirates find themselves in the same dour scenario as the Brewers.

Gary Grunau may be one of the best kept secrets in Milwaukee. His fecund mind and ferocious tenacity is known and respected by many Milwaukee policy makers, but would you recognize him without seeing his American Express Card first?

A meeting room at his office in Schlitz Park, one of Grunau’s projects, is decorated in a utilitarian chic motif. Heavy scaffolding acts as an entertainment center for video equipment and as a base for the huge conference table. You sense that Grunau isn’t prone to wasting accessible material nor interested in spending too much valuable time on color schemes. He’s got too many other things on his mind, pressing issues relating to the city he loves. "I have the perspective of being here all my life," Grunau says. "I think in the last probably eight years, we’ve accomplished one heck of a lot. But we still have a long way to go, too. I’ve watched the city’s growth over the last 25 years, prior to the last eight and viewed it as being kind of stagnant. From the time when the old County Stadium was built and the creation of the old convention center, there wasn’t a lot going on with the exception of the Grand Avenue Mall, which opened in the early ‘80s."

Grunau says Milwaukee was comfortably nestled in a status quo of its own making.

He also believes in a figurative sense, "there’s a new sheriff in town." "I think there is a different breed of people that want to make things happen in Milwaukee," Grunau reports. "There’s a different outlook and attitude in this city today. We’ve shaken off some of the conservatism Milwaukee has always been known for over many years and have gotten ‘with it.’ We’ve gotten projects going."

Despite some strenuous economic times, Grunau is excited about the growth of Milwaukee’s downtown areas. "Some of the designs are very urban oriented. It’s become much more of a ‘live downtown’ community. The downtown residential aspect is really driving the freight train right now."

Milwaukee Mayor John Norquist draws praise from Grunau for being the impetus for much of the improved image and growth to the city. "Our local government, under the leadership of John Norquist, has really adapted a proven policy to make our downtown better." Grunau says his father, were he still around, would be pleased with the way the city has developed. "He was a lifelong resident of Milwaukee, too. He was always frustrated when things couldn’t get done. My father would appreciate the fact that things are getting done today."

Mayor Norquist says Grunau has long been a cheerleader for Milwaukee. "I think Gary has really understood the city as a valuable and beautiful place," Norquist explains. "He’s always emphasized the positive. Milwaukee has a lot of strong images that are rooted in reality, images must be rooted in reality."

Norquist goes on to say Grunau has assisted Milwaukee’s national reputation through the work he’s accomplished. "Gary is an urbanist. I think he acquired a taste for the city after moving from Brookfield. He understands urbanism is an attractive feature."

The mayor believes Grunau has helped keep Milwaukee’s urban fabric intact.

"With the RiverWalk, Gary really stepped up to the plate," Norquist continues. "He got involved in urban revitalization before I became mayor and at that time, it was quite a risk to take."

After earning a degree in engineering from Cornell University, Grunau could have gone anywhere, but chose to come back to Milwaukee. "I came back here out of school to a family-made business," Grunau recalls. "It’s the right size community for me. I’ve known people in this town for over 40 years and it’s a comfortable city. People wise, size wise, I don’t know what else you could ask for. It’s got the arts, just about anything you could possibly ask for."

His studies in engineering are given credit for his ability to think logically and strive to come to a conclusion regarding his work. "The thing about engineering is sooner or later you come up with an answer," Grunau says. "Perhaps engineers push the answers out more than most people do. I think being an engineer gives you a sense of finality, that you want to bring something to its conclusion and complete a project."

Marcia Sehler is on the board of the RiverWalk District, the group responsible for a good chunk of the development along the river downtown. Her assessment of Grunau smacks of a public relations campaign. "I work with him a lot and I can tell you, he is an astoundingly good person. They say he’s powerful, but he’s also enormously good." Sehler says Grunau cares about the city and works tirelessly for Milwaukee. "It’s about Gary wanting to see Milwaukee be very successful and be welcoming to everybody. He’s enormously capable."

With the political landscape in Milwaukee County and the city changing rapidly, Grunau expresses some concern for the future vision and goals of Milwaukee. "I would hope, and a lot of people downtown hope, the new mayor would have the same strong urban sense as our current mayor possesses," Grunau explains. "There’s a renewed sense of neighborhood downtown, a more pedestrian friendly environment. People can live close to each other again rather than living on a five-acre lot secluded from everyone else."

The gaping void recently created downtown, a.k.a. the Park East Freeway project, has proven to be a contentious, yet arguably vital area for development. "The big growth area now is around the Park East freeway," Grunau relates. "If you think of it, the Park East is surrounded by successful development on all four sides. The east bank of the river, which will primarily be housing, all the way up to the Pick ‘n Save on Ogden, is going to be a hot spot over the next two or three years. You’ve got great housing locations, great views of the downtown area and the river." Grunau says he’s tickled with the responses people have been communicating about the Park East area. "I see people on Water Street and Old World Third Street saying ‘wow.’ They call me on their cell phones saying, ‘My God, does this make a difference.’ They see a different vision of the city when they’re driving up the street."

Grunau says he’s encouraged by the burgeoning art com- munity in Milwaukee and in his estimation, art may prove to be the cornerstone to the future of this city. "We have a very strong artistic contingent in MIAD, UWM and their school of fine arts," Grunau praises. "There’s a lot of good artistic talent. There’s a lot of great art scenes. You can’t underestimate the performing arts groups." Grunau says Milwaukee is becoming known as much for its arts community as for beer. "It’d be interesting to find out amongst the young professionals, what is Milwaukee known for. I’m sure beer is in there somewhere because I know they like to party, but it’s also the arts, recreational opportunities."

Grunau believes etching a uniqueness into the proverbial stone that is Milwaukee’s international image would be a good place to start. "We need to create an identity for ourselves in Milwaukee as a changing, progressive, technology-oriented, fun city. We’re going to continue to market this ‘brand’ that is Milwaukee, but we need an identity and that identity is going to be a long way from German bratwurst, bowling and beer, a long way."

The last ten years in the city have been particularly gratifying for Grunau. He says he’s very pleased with the way a lot of projects have turned out. Grunau is quick to point out that satisfaction can come through others’ success, it doesn’t have to be of his own creation. "I’m happy when ideas come from other people. Take the new convention center... I’m thrilled by it. Sometimes it’s great to show those who don’t have much faith in your idea, those who say ‘he’s crazy to try something like that.’ It’s more to prove people wrong, in my mind. I enjoy that more than taking credit for something that happened. I like to see them eat their words. It helps everybody when something works. I can’t wait to hear from the critics of the Park East freeway and have them eat crow."

This city is far from perfect. There are things Grunau would like to change if he were given the opportunity. "I wish we could turn the clock back and have the Brewers making the decision today. I don’t think it would be built out there today. It’s a fantastic structure, but at the time the Miller Park issue came up, you couldn’t find enough attitudes in the city to say, ‘let’s prevent it from being built out there.’"

The big loss, according to Grunau, are the subtle benefits the city would have reaped if Miller Park was indeed built downtown. "People could have walked to restaurants and shops," Grunau explains. "In Baltimore, they didn’t build one parking structure when they built Camden Yards. In Cleveland, they didn’t build one parking spot when they built Jacobs Field. Why? They wanted people to park seven or eight blocks from the stadium and walk to the park. They wanted people to stop and have a dinner somewhere. Stop to have lunch or a beer after the game."

Grunau says he doesn’t think people were concerned enough to ask for an unbiased analysis at the time. It’s his belief the primary concern was to save baseball in the city.

"You can’t cry over spilled milk. I’m just saying if the decision were made today, it wouldn’t happen."

Recent research cited by Grunau speaks to the aspirations of the younger workforce. "You’re finding the youth of today finds a place to live, then looks for a job.

"So, you’re going to find the youth, and we’re seeing a lot of that here now, there’s a good young population in Milwaukee now. They’ve got to have their entertainment districts, saloons, recreation activities, that’s what we’ve got to sell. If young people start to move here, then companies will realize there’s a hell of a labor pool here."

On a national scale, Milwaukee has long been associated with negative stereotypes and borne the brunt of its share of crude jokes. While some of it may have been perpetuated and perhaps even fostered by prior generations, Grunau wants to see an end to such references. "If I have a frustration, it’s to get this town to change its attitude. We are not a second class city," Grunau informs. "We’re one of the great cities in the United States. We need everyone who lives here to be our salespeople. We need everyone to have an attitude of how successful we really are."

Says Malcolm Brown, "It’s the relationships that I’m going to miss."

Brown has transported his hair gear and his hair acumen to Minoqua permanently after 30 years of cutting, trimming, styling locks in this town. "I’m not retiring, I’m still going to be doing hair, but I’ve gotten to the point in my life where the city boy has become more of a country boy and I need to relax," Brown relates. He says he’ll be working about four days a week in Minoqua, as opposed to the six days a week he worked for over 30 years in Milwaukee.

"I loved going to Door County, but everyone was talking about Minoqua. It’s truly God’s country. It’s a very large area and I think it’s the most beautiful place in Wisconsin."

Brown worked for another Milwaukee hair landmark, Erik of Norway, when he first arrived in the city. "I was born in London and I moved over here in ‘73," Brown says. "I came straight to Milwaukee. My father lived here and I went to work for Erik. I called my wife the day I arrived to say, ‘I will never come back to live in England again.’ I arrived in October to live permanently."

Education will play a big role in Brown’s life in the future, both as a student and as an instructor. "Three days a week I want to go to school. I want to teach hair styling one of those days and go to school for photography during the other two days."

Brown says Milwaukee has some of the finest hairdressers in the Midwest. "I used to be embarrassed to say I came from Milwaukee," Brown confesses. "Erik and I ended up training the majority of the hairdressers in the area. Those who opened stores in the Midwest had worked for either Erik or me. We touched a lot of lives." Brown is quick to give advice to individuals interested in cutting hair for a living. "If someone was to go into hairdressing today, I’d tell them to get a business degree first, then learn how to cut hair. The difference between cutting hair in ‘73 and 2003, you’d better be a good business person today. The bottom line in this business is as small as it has ever been."

Josh Adams’ early freelance work included a stint with Tina Turner.

He lives in Wauwatosa and likes the fact he can walk to theaters and stores. "I like to hunker down. I bought a bungalow and it’s a cool spot. I can be anywhere in ten minutes. I ride my moped in the summer. I ride my moped everywhere in the summer. It’s that kind of place, you buzz in here, you buzz in there."

Nicolet High School standout B.J. Tucker is a starting defensive back for the Badgers this season as a senior. Last year, Tucker played in nine of 12 games, and started at cornerback in the first two games of the season. Whitefish Bay High School star Booker Stanley entered the Wisconsin program this year on a full ride as a running back. Stanley rushed for more than 300 yards and five touchdowns in a game against Germantown, and was named Associated Press’ state player of the year. Evan Engstrom, an honorable mention all-state defensive end also from Whitefish Bay, will be a walk-on this season for the Badgers and will try to make his mark alongside the likes of hard hitting fullback Matt Bernstein.

None of the three men could make it to this level without a great deal of love and support from friends and families. "We knew it was going to be tough going in," says mom Linda Tucker. "Barry Alvarez told us that of all the kids going into college sports, only three percent would come out as professionals the other end. We knew that, and we know B.J. is talented, and we know he has a chance of being in that three percent. When he got to this level, we didn’t know where he was going to top out in terms of talent. I think our job here is to let him know that he is a talented young man."

Linda Tucker knows B.J. as a man, while most fans of Badger football know him through his play on the field and structured media bites. Linda Tucker and her family are with B.J. through the thick and the thin of it, through the accolades and the jeers. "We were all excited for him and the fact that he had a potential to earn a scholarship for playing football," Linda recalls. "At the same time it got a little stressful during the recruiting process." Linda says coaches tended to call at odd hours of the day, sometimes as early as 6:30 in the morning and as late as just before midnight.

Universities across the country are hungry beasts in search of new fuel for their programs each year. Coaches can turn on the unctuous charm at the drop of a dime during the recruitment process. Occasionally, a family can see right through the smoke. "I think some of the other schools were trying to kiss up to us," Linda recalls. "When Barry Alvarez and his coaches came here, they were pretty upfront and honest. He was interested in B.J. because of his speed, his natural talent. It was pretty crazy. When the phone stopped ringing, I didn’t realize what it was like to not have a phone ringing in my ears."

Linda says Alvarez came to the Tuckers’ home with a couple of other coaches. "Barry Alvarez told me I have a lot to learn," she admits. "When he was here he asked me, ‘You don’t even know what a nickel defense is, do you?’ Defensive back is a tough position to play. One of the coaches said defensive back was as hard as quarterback."

The road for Booker Stanley, a highly touted running back, required him to make some critical decisions early. "After my sophomore year I recognized that I might have a chance to play in college so I worked my butt off to get into a good school," Stanley explains. "Barry Alvarez offered me a scholarship so all of the extra school work, the running and working out I did over the years paid off." Throughout this past summer, Stanley got a chance to condition with the team and bond with the players. "It made coming to camp that much easier knowing everybody. People told me what to expect, what not to expect, how to approach things," Stanley said. Booker Stanley was officially "red-shirted" for the year. He is a part of the team, but will not play this year. He gains another year of eligibility while learning the system.

Evan Engstrom’s situation is quite a bit different. Unlike Tucker and Stanley, Engstrom isn’t attending Madison on a football scholarship. "I didn’t have a lot of hype coming into my senior season," Engstrom says. Engstrom proved to be an enterprising jock, sending his personal statistics to people who could contribute to his future. "Just to get my name out," Engstrom explains. "I sent out what I could do to local coaches. I went to a couple of camps and let the coaches know what to expect. I went to three camps, Northwestern, Wisconsin and Iowa. Northwestern was probably most interested. They called, visited, did the whole recruiting angle. Iowa was a little less interested," Engstrom admits.

"Evan’s not a one dimensional kid as you can see from the academic side," says Reid Engstrom, Evan’s father. "Going to a good school was very influential. Wisconsin and Northwestern were good schools. We’ve talked about postgraduate work. If he is red-shirted, he can potentially go on to one year of graduate school financed by a scholarship."

"We support Evan," adds Peggy Engstrom. "We don’t want him to look back someday and ask himself if he ever had the talent to play college ball. It’s been hard. Not getting the strong looks from some coaches and schools, but he’s hung in there. He puts his stats and interest on the line, but if it doesn’t work out there are other options."

"Most kids that walk on are usually very smart and hard
working," says Joe Wieland, Engstrom’s and Stanley‘s coach at Whitefish Bay. "They don’t get a lot of recognition. Evan is
hardworking, intelligent and has great leadership skills. You only had to tell Evan something once. He would make a great coach one day if he decided to go that route."

Getting named to the squad is the first step. Once you’re there, the real work begins.

It’s not all fame and backslapping when you reach this level of competition. Tucker lost his starting job as defensive back last year. "I didn’t think I was ready at that time," Tucker confesses. "As you get older and want to be on the field, you start to take things a little more seriously. Getting that rest, whatever it takes. Right now, I’m looking at being a starter and a leader, so people see me as a role model. I pretty much have to play that role."

Stanley may be new to the Alvarez regime, but he’s learning fast. "Barry is a tough guy. It’s the little things that everyone looks at," Stanley explains. "There are a lot of athletes here, but guys need to finish plays, come on time, all the little things." Stanley says he thinks he and fellow freshman Dwayne Smith are ready to get into the game. "Dwayne and I want to come out and show what we got. I’m looking forward to getting on the field."

A few seasons under a player’s belt can make all the difference in the world. "As far as football is concerned, the jitters are all gone," Tucker says. "Now it’s all about playing and helping your team win. To win a bowl game, to win a championship. The younger kids are just trying to be a part of the team. I’m one of the guys that’s expected to go out there and do something to help our team win."

Tucker says in the Big Ten, the pressure is always there. "If you’re not living up to your expectations, the coaches will put someone in your place," Tucker explains. "You know you want to be on the field, and you know you’re capable of being on the field, if you have a bad practice, you can lose the spot," says Tucker.

Players understand they have to keep their grades in line if they expect to stay eligible to play. Tucker says football has enabled him to become a better student. "If I had just school to worry about, I’d probably be doing a lot of things in my off time I really don’t need to get into. Football helps you get away from a lot of things like that. The little time you have off you want to get some school work done." Tucker says he had to stay in Madison during the summers for football anyway so he saw it as a chance to study. "Being part of the program enabled me to stay focused. I think that’s very true."

Tucker is just 26 credits away from his degree at Madison. That accomplishment hasn’t been lost on Linda Tucker. "I don’t know if he gets it, because we’re still working on him," she laughs. "He knows that there are options. The NFL is what he’d like to do, but he knows there are other options out there for him."

"First and foremost I want to work hard in school," Stanley says. "In high school, I needed to pick up my grades because I was kind of slacking off a bit during my freshman and sophomore years. I’d been in the Whitefish Bay school system since I was in the third grade but it was a matter of buckling down and doing it. In high school, I think the teachers were supportive. They were with me one hundred percent. At one point I wasn’t academically eligible to come here but they showed me how to do it. I went and worked my butt off, now I’m here, having fun, so it all paid off.

"Back in high school during my senior year," Stanley continues, "I’d look forward to taking some tests because I knew darn well that I was going to get an ‘A’ on the test because I studied my butt off to get it."

B.J. Tucker’s entire recruited freshman class is already gone, either through transfer or attrition. "When you’re given the opportunity, you have to make the most of it," Tucker says. "Some kids don’t stay focused, they’re worried about what the coaches think of them and why they’re not playing right away. They’ve got to realize they are still young and have a couple of years left. That’s how I looked at it."

There is a certain amount of fame and notoriety that comes when you are a Badger. "Coming in as a freshman, I think you kind of want to be noticed," Tucker admits. "You want people to know you’re on the football team. The older you get they know who you are and say hello. Sometimes it’s hard not to be rude, but if you’re with your friends and someone comes up to you who doesn’t really know you, it can be tough."

Tucker, Stanley and Engstrom could have chosen other schools to play football, but each chose Wisconsin. "It was the right choice," Tucker says. "I have a lot of family support out here, it’s the biggest support I could get. If I made a mistake, they were right down the street and I could talk to them. I could pick up the phone or come home for the weekend."

"It depends on the person," Stanley says. "If you don’t care if you’re far away from home, it’s all right. Some kids may need to see their parents, family or friends every once in a while. If they live in Texas, Florida or California, that can be hard, that‘s a long way. I’m glad I’m here. I talk to my mom every day and every other weekend I go home and talk to her."

Engstrom’s selection of Wisconsin had a lot to do with the school’s history of giving a serious look to walk-ons. "Once the season starts, through the season they will give me an idea of how things are going," Engstrom says. "They’ll probably red-shirt me. You’d like to see yourself higher, but it’s an opportunity. There are tons of Wisconsin walk-ons that have made the team. Look at the history of Wisconsin walk-ons. They’ve always done real well."

Engstrom says there are different versions of "Rudy," the title character in a film based on a true story that depicted a walk-on player at Notre Dame. "There are two ‘Rudy’ types," Engstrom explains. "Those that don’t have what it takes athletically, but they have the heart. They are there to be practice players and that’s OK for them. Then there is a category of guys who due to injury or some other factor didn’t have the opportunity to earn a scholarship. I’d like to think of myself in the second category."

"Evan Engstrom is a great guy," Stanley says. "Unfortunately he didn’t get to come up to camp with the team. He’s going to be walking on here and hopefully the coaches get to see what kind of player he is because he’s a really good player and he really works hard. I think that the reason why he didn’t get looked at as hard is because Whitefish Bay isn’t really looked at as having a great football program. I’m looking forward to him coming up here, he’s phenomenal in the weight room, and he’s just a good guy."

Who else, besides family, got these kids to this level? "Coach Wieland was very influential," Stanley praises. "I don’t know where to start, he was such a great guy. Without him, I wouldn’t be in this situation. He was one of the people that helped me get here. He took me in as a freshman, he took me under his wing and taught me things like a father figure."

So, where does all of this lead? Is playing football on a Big Ten stage enough, or is playing in the NFL the only thing that will satisfy these players? "This is my last year of eligibility," Tucker says. "I’m a starter and I’m going to try to help our team win the Big Ten, hopefully go to a bowl game. You always have a chance to go and work out for a professional team if they invite you. I don’t really know how the process works. Either way, I think I’m prepared for what comes. I can be done with football this year. I guess I’m prepared for it ending, but if I don’t get injured, I think I have a chance to go pro."

"B.J. has seen most of the United States in the last few years," Linda Tucker adds. "He played as a freshman in the Rose Bowl. He got a Rose Bowl ring, three Big Ten track championships."

Young Booker Stanley has his sites set on finishing school at Madison. "Graduating from college, getting a degree, secondly, having a good career here in football is how I want to be remembered at Wisconsin," Stanley says. "They don’t have architectural design as a major right now, so for the moment, I’m undecided as to a major."

Carollo started his referee career by doing games in Shorewood and Whitefish Bay. "I worked in the Big Ten for about ten years," Carollo recalls. "The NFL sends scouts to the games to look for referees. The NFL gets about 2,000 applications each year, and selects about eight to ten guys each year." On the field, Carollo is like the home plate umpire, without the chest-guard.

It’s a difficult profession that is often thankless. "No matter what, half of the people are going to think you got the call right, the other half is going to think you got it wrong," Carollo reflects. "You have to convince people that your call is right. You have to act and be confident. If you feel you’ve made the right call, you have to have the confidence to convince the players and coaches and fans."

The cruel fact is that coaches’ jobs and players’ careers often ride on referees’ decisions. "We all make mistakes," Carollo says with an air of quiet dignity. "It’s understood that a call can have ramifications that go well beyond the playing field, even impacting participants’ lives."

During the season, the schedule of an NFL referee can be rather taxing. "It’s a year-round operation. We have written tests throughout the off-season," Carollo informs. "I spend about a half hour to an hour every day on the rules. I know the rules, I’ve read them many times, but from year to year, you have to keep studying them. You can’t say, ‘I think the rule is this,’ you have to know it. You have to react to the play, so you have to stay sharp."

Carollo says there is a perception that referees and umpires are idiots. Truth is, an idiot wouldn’t last long in this gig. "You almost have to be a Philadelphia lawyer to figure out the rulebook. It’s very complicated," Carollo explains. "That’s why officials really have to study it, to really know it. There are degrees of knowing. You’ve got to know the rules inside and out. You have to know the history of the rule, the philosophy behind the rule."

"At the end of the sixth inning," I reminded him, still flush with local pride.

Brewers’ left fielder Geoff Jenkins ran in the sausage race as he was about to come off the injured reserved list. "It was the perfect time for me to do it," Jenkins said, who’s known more for his hitting prowess than he is for running around in sausage casings. "It was fun, something to do while I was injured," he reminisces, smiling, as if reliving the glory of the race before my eyes.

In the early ’90s, the races began to appear on what the Wizard of Oz would have referred to as the "clinking, clanking, clattering, collection of caliginous junk" known as the scoreboard in the old County Stadium. By the mid ’90s, Brewers vice president of marketing, Laurel Prieb, knew the organization had something. The sausages as we now know them emerged from left field on Sunday afternoons, and as Prieb relates, "we didn’t anticipate the appeal would go beyond kids." Originally the races were scheduled based on youth-appeal. "We used the calendar on a selective basis to determine when more kids would be in the stands." In 2000, the last year at County Stadium, the sausages began to race every game day. "Actually bringing them off the scoreboard might have started as a joke," says Prieb. "The more we talked about it, the more we thought, why not? Let’s be the first. We haven’t regretted it yet. They’ve become celebrities statewide, kids ask for autographs."

This is where my journey begins. I’ve written a few articles on behind the scene topics with the Brewers. What it’s like to work in the visiting clubhouse, watching a game with Bernie Brewer from his chalet at County Stadium. I thought this to be the natural progression in George Plimpton-like experiences.

On the evening I ran the race, the Italian Sausage was represented by a Chicago Cubs batboy. Other participants in my race? A male cheerleader for Marquette University and a female Marquette student, both members of the "Superteam." (The Superteam does all of the fun stuff around the park like throwing T-shirts to the crowd, corralling the foul balls during the game, opening and closing the roof at unscheduled times for laughs.)

I was escorted to the dressing room at the top of the 4th inning.

After a couple of innings of small talk, it was time to put on our sausage suits. I had chosen the Polish Sausage a couple of days earlier, not because I was impressed with his look, (in retrospect, I would have chosen any of the other three before the Polish) but more for the fact that I enjoy Polish Sausages, and the Brewers’ photographer wanted to make sure a picture was taken of the race for posterity.

The facial expression of the Polish resembles a guy that could use a dose of Metamucil more than it does a sausage trying to win a race. Sunglasses, red and blue stripes on his shirt, blue pants, I looked like a goof.

My first thought as I squeezed myself into the costume, was claustrophobia. Really. This was a cramped tube with shoulder pads, and the whole thing clung to me like a wet body-girdle. Feeling like an 18th century courtesan bound in a corset, I struggled for breath. I didn’t want to appear like a novice, but this was a tight fit. And the rig was heavy. I was told that the costume weighed in at about 25 pounds, but it felt like more. All top heavy and in limited control of anything above my shoulders, I felt like Dolly Parton without the hair.

Superteam spokespeople have the costumes at a towering 7’ 3" measuring from the top of the costumed head to the top of the knee of whomever is running the race. That made me about 9’ 3" in sneakers. I had nightmares of ending up like the bull mascot in the movie Bull Durham, getting drilled with a fastball as I ran behind home plate.

"You can’t see in those things," Geoff Jenkins remarked. Truer words were never spoken. Once inside this huge cigar case, you’ve got a grid the size of a cantaloupe in front of you. It’s like looking through a pasta strainer. I couldn’t even see my arms at my side. I spent some time testing the weight distribution. A little tilt here, an adjustment there. My glasses fell off in the corridor leading to the left field entrance. I should have recognized this as an omen.

The four of us entered the pen in left field at the top of the sixth inning. We weren’t scheduled to race until after the inning was over. You have to get there early because there could be six quick outs, and you don’t want to be caught in the dressing room with your lederhosen down around your ankles. Two of the more experienced sausages started to warm up by running back and forth around the Harley Davidson motorcycle that goes out during pitching changes. I mimicked their actions, not wanting to look like the odd sausage out. We introduced ourselves to each other, talked about racing protocol, where we would start and finish.

We tried to be cordial, but it was clear we didn’t like each other. Soon we would be competitors. Like any red-blooded American, I wanted to win. When I saw the Marquette cheerleader warming up, I knew I was in trouble. That’s when I knew they weren’t going to let me win.

The last out of the sixth inning was made. I was getting nervous.

We were ushered out onto the field.

I started moving in exaggerated and "cute motions" that I’d seen other sausages do in years past. Jogging in place, jogging backward and forward, flexing my muscles. Somehow, I knew the race was about to start. I leaned forward, trying to get an edge.

Then the race started. At that moment, I couldn’t see anything except the reddish gravel on the ground before me.

I remember not wanting to look straight ahead in fear I would lose my footing, but I knew I was in the lead. But not for long. One of opposing sausages began to cut in front of me. "Fair enough," I thought, this is a race. Then another. You’re cognizant that you are running, but your mechanics are all messed up. I couldn’t really hear the crowd, and I didn’t dare to look up.

When we reached the visitor’s dugout, my glasses fell off. Not the Polish Sausage’s glasses, my glasses. I’m not completely blind without them, but it didn’t do wonders for my concentration in the race.

Sweating, my heart pounding, winded, disoriented, a little frightened. In short, it was like I was reliving my marriage vows. The other sausages had been toying with me, I realized. They sprinted around home plate and across the finish line. They were slapping hands with fans by the time my casing crossed the finish line. I came in third, as I narrowly beat the girl in the Hot Dog suit. I didn’t really mind losing. I waved to family members on the right field side of the stadium. I needed help pulling off the costume as I arrived under the stands, panting heavily. I felt a sense of accomplishment in not falling on my face, despite being decisively beaten by a cheerleader and a batboy. And I’ve got a picture to prove it.