Is It Free Hamburgers at George Webbs if Brewers Win Again
MILWAUKEE – A woman with a deep laugh and lots of silver rings asks, "What'll yous have?" and I say, "The burger you'll be giving abroad for free on Friday." That's when the deep laugh reveals itself.
"We don't know that yet," she scolds.
"I just want to know what I'll be getting," I say.
"Not Friday," she says. "Next Th, 2 to 6. Gotta ready for something like that. If, you know …"
"Twelve in a row," I say. "Yous believe, though, right?"
A deep laugh.
"So, I'll have that. The soon-to-be-free burger."
"Onions?" she says.
"If they'll be free too."
"Pickles?"
"Gratis?"
"Burger, onions, pickles," she says with a sigh, as though I'd only jinxed the whole thing.
It'south a niggling subsequently 1 Wednesday afternoon. Ii others are at the counter at George Webb's, a burger joint on tertiary Street, a 24-hour diner that gives burgers away every 3 decades or so, assuming the Brewers win Friday's National League Championship Series opener confronting the Dodgers, which would give them 12 sequent wins, which will satisfy onetime George's original marketing gimmick and take his joint feed the boondocks, only like in '87, the last and only time the Brewers take banged out a dozen in a row. The smallish restaurant concatenation paid up with nearly 170,000 burgers that day or, equally the T-shirts attest, "Brewers 12, George Webb 168,194, April nineteen, 1987."
So I wait on my preview burger. The adult female at the counter beside me says, "How'south your day," and I say, "Fine except for it'due south raining and I have no umbrella," to which she grins and says, "It ain't that bad." And I agree.
The night before, in my quest to find Major Goolsby's, I'd wandered the streets of downtown for an hr before finding the bar 3 blocks from my hotel. It was raining, a steaming rain, the kind when a drop hits your shoulder information technology sends up a little puff of smoke. But, the bartender, Kirby, America's personal bartender, had adept stories (the large pig at the front door is named for Charles Barkley and the restroom is straight that way, take a right at the Harley, my kind of place) and a soft spot in his soul for the Brewers and the Tv set turned to whoever the Brewers would play in the World Series, should they go that far. They've been before, in one case. Never won it, though. Maybe this year'll be different.
It'southward still raining like that, but nobody seems to mind, and maybe that's because it rains like that a lot or because, hey, information technology's the centre of Oct and it's still baseball season. 4 miles abroad, Miller Park from the highway looks like one of those new handbags they're carrying on Montana Avenue in Santa Monica. Soon, they'll be stretching and taking BP and chasing fungoes, preparing for the biggest series in town since they'd lost to the Cardinals at this aforementioned betoken 7 years ago. Craig Counsell, the Brewers managing director, was a player on that team.
He said he's never had a George Webb burger. He grew up hither. In fact, I couldn't discover a unmarried histrion who'd heard of the place, which was weird, given it's been around for 70 years (this year), or its feed-the-world pledge, though Jeremy Jeffress seemed game. "You got ane?" he asked, " 'cause I'll endeavour it." Alas.
Yet, I sit on a bluish-ish stool, my elbows on a beige counter, game. In the spirit of the thing.
There are signs everywhere. Non the omens kind. Regular signs.
"We'll set or remake your nutrient, but no refunds."
"Restrooms for customers just."
"We're hiring."
Wednesday is split up pea and ham soup day.
I that says that from ten p.k. to 6 a.grand. you have to pay upfront. The counter is very close to the door.
A poster on the far wall: "George Webb predicts the Brew Coiffure will win 12 straight games."
There information technology is, the Brewers sitting on 11, me on a blue-ish stool.
Beneath the blatant analysis of Dodgers-Brewers, the arched-forehead breakdowns of this starting rotation and that bullpen, there's a urban center of 600,000 people and their ballclub with half the payroll of the big fellas, the sort of newcomer that makes October charming over again. The sort of team that with a little luck could win this thing, all of this thing.
And a burger. Maybe lots of them.
It arrives with picayune ceremony. With the bun, the pickles and the onions, the burger is by and large bun, pickles and onions. But, hey, in a week information technology'll be gratuitous. Not that nosotros know that yet.
The burger goes pretty speedily. An older admirer, meantime, has taken an interest in the younger woman beside me. He buys her coffee. He works his magic. She smiles kindly.
"I can't believe I'm beingness finessed by an eighty-twelvemonth-onetime," she says, tickled.
When he's walked out the forepart door and she is even so shaking her head I look at her and say, "It own't that bad." And she agrees. She laughs.
A moment later, the gentleman is back.
"I forgot my cane," he says.
Everyone enjoys that.
"It's a miracle!" she says.
From backside the counter, a deep laugh. Could be a busy week. Not that we know that yet.
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Source: https://sports.yahoo.com/brewers-win-nlcs-game-1-free-hamburgers-everybody-003344116.html
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