I turned on the TV in roughly the fifth inning last evening to watch the Giants play the Brewers and gleefully discovered the teams were wearing Spanish-language uniforms. The Giants’ road grays had “Gigantes” emblazoned on the front, and the Brew Crew has “Cerveceros” across their chests. The teams wore their normal caps.
While crass commercialism no doubt in part drives the proliferation of alternate uniforms at major league games, I can put that aside. It’s cool to see the uniforms in Spanish, all the more so when so many Latin American players are in the game.
The Brewers have scheuled a Hispanic heritage game in recent years, and there’s now a sombrero-clad chorizo taking part in the sausage race during the 7th inning stretch.
As for “Los Gigantes,” they always seem to find a way to lose in Miller Park. I should have stuck to the game on radio. Once I started watching, things turned sour for Barry Zito.
As a former Milwaukeean, I still hold a strong allegiance to the Brewers. But although my wife was beside me rooting for the home team, I was fully pulling for the Giants, who grabbed a 6-4 lead in the top of the ninth only to blow it in the bottom and lose 7-6.
But I take heart. There’s always manana.
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