As a fan of the Beautiful Game (that would be soccer), I am used to taking a lot of flack about how boring soccer really is.  My knee-jerk response is usually to insult baseball.  I’m still not convinced it should be called a sport, but I will readily admit to thoroughly enjoying it when watching it live, as I did at Miller Park, the home of Milwaukee Brewers.

It was the Dodgers in town that fine Wisconsin evening, and I was at full voice in support of the home side.  They may have been winning at one point, I’m not sure. I was distracted by the running of the sausages. A tradition since the early 1990s, 4 – presumably human beings – dressed as different types of sausage run around the outside of the field in a bid, much like all races, to see who wins. This event takes place at the bottom of the 6th inning at every home game. Predictably, I put my hypothetical money on the Italian. Predictably, the Italian did not win. However, each sausage imported him/her/itself with the dignity one would expect of such a delightfully entertaining tradition.

On this high, I felt much like Richie Cunningham must have when he left the beautiful city of Milwaukee to join the army: blessed to have been a part of it. They were indeed all Happy Days.