I don’t bleed for any team, but I do admit to a little bruising on occasion. I like sports as much as the next guy and while I appreciate Wisconsin’s sports offerings and am pleased when they do well, I’m primarily an observer, and certainly not a band-wagon jumper. If the Packers are doing well, that’s great, I’ll enjoy the ride. If the Badgers are stinking up the joint, I don’t take it home with me.

While the Brewers were rolling past the Cardinals and taking aim at the Cubs, the Observers convened at the Ball Park—a South Side sports bar, not the place with the sliding roof. Frank: Breaking news, Artie! I’ve discovered that the stars are aligned for the Brewers...

thinking is, “What if we bring Brett back, Rodgers holds the clipboard another year, and then Brett says next year, ‘OK, now I’m really done,’ and Rodgers becomes a free agent and says, ‘I’m gone, too’?”.

Golf tournaments are undergoing more name changes than Elizabeth Taylor. The GMO, I mean the U.S. Bank Championship, has come and gone from Milwaukee. I understand golf tournaments are subject to the demands and orders from the PGA tour, but why is this town forced to compete for time against the British Open, I mean, The Open. The 2008 Arnold Palmer Invitational used to be known as the Bay Hill Classic until this year's name change. It probably doesn’t matter much as much to the General as making sure he has plenty of Ensure on hand.

I`m Art Kumbalek and here's the story. The Shepherd wants a weekly sports column, since sports apparently seems to be a popular topic of conversation these days amongst a certain clique. And somehow I got tabbed to helm the launching of this craft; qualifications being I don't need to spell-check "Lambeau,"...

The Brewers had found a way to avoid sweeping the Braves, but were fixin’ to sweep the ‘Stros, when the Observers found their way to a local establishment for a couple of cold ones on a sunny May 30.

Frank: Well, Artie, I think this first cold one should be a toast to ourselves. It’s clear that we provided the impetus for those sweeps of the Astros and D-Backs. Artie: You betcha, my friend. Um, exactly how did we do that? Not that I’m opposed to toasting us.

The NBA was having the best of times and worst of times when the Observers got together on June 13. The vintage Lakers-Celtics matchup for the championship was clouded by allegations from disgraced referee Tim Donaghy that other refs skewed their calls to help the Lakers win a crucial game in the 2002 Western...

It’s almost a part of Major League Baseball’s yearly schedule, like Opening Day and the All-Star Game. Sometime between those two, MLB pleads with its players, managers and umpires to pick up the pace of games. It happened again in May. Somehow, completing nine innings takes upward of a half-hour longer...

As the Observers took their patriotic spirit to Miller Park for the Fourth of July, the Brewers were hoping to recov er from a hideous loss at Arizona by sending Ben Sheets to the mound against Pittsburgh. Meanwhile, they were nailing down a trade for Cleveland ace C.C. Sabathia, a blockbuster that became official...

The Milwaukee Brewers, like many other MLB teams, are being kicked in the teeth once again after living up to their end of a bargain. It appears the Brewers ‘Ace,’ Ben Sheets, is looking to take his accomplished resume elsewhere. Sheets says he’s headed in the direction of free agency, and we know how that usually turns out for the Brewers: bubkes. Despite the fact Sheets has been stained with injury, the Brewers have done a pretty good job trying to retain talent and has been candid about their intentions with players.

That’s what makes sports great: surprises. We’re surprised the Brewers were able to send three players to the All-Star Game. We’re astonished we have a baseball team who, in the thick of the season, acquired a reigning Cy Young Award winner. We’re surprised we’re talking about Brett Favre in July after he told the world he was done with football. Surprises keep you young with anticipation, on your toes. That’s a good thing . . .

The Observers were on hand for Game 2 of the CC Sabathia era, and the Brewers’ hefty lefty put on quite a show. He pitched a complete game against Cincinnati, hit a home run and raised his Milwaukee record to 2-0 thanks to a ninth inning run driven in by Craig Counsell, batting for Sabathia. So the Brewers and their fans...

If someone told you they would let you do something really cool, like shagging flies for the Brewers during batting practice, or putting on catchers’ gear in the Miller Park bullpen and taking some pitches, would you do it? Hell yeah you would. I met up with Marcus Hanel, the bullpen catcher for the Brewers for the past nine years, for a backstage pass to areas of MillerPark to which I had never been allowed access. I’ve covered the team for nearly 15 years, but this was a new one. I’d spent a game in the old chalet at CountyStadium, turned over the locker room as a new team came in to play the Brewers. I even ran the sausage race.

Soccer is alive and well in Milwaukee. This is a sport that didn’t exist in my neighborhood when I was a kid, a sport I probably would have played. My 7-year-old daughter loves the sport, and I’m equally pleased when she is exhausted after a practice or game from running around for an hour. What took it so long to catch on here?

In the culturally vapid ’70s, Black Sabbath wrote a cheerful little ditty titled “Iron Man.” The lyrics include: Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind? Can he walk at all, Or if he moves will he fall? Is he alive or dead? Has he thoughts within his head? Well just pass him there Why should we even care?

Our society is enthralled with ceramic images of athletes whose heads bounce and wiggle like a man suffering from chronic seizures. Left fielder Ryan Braun is the latest player to be ridiculed in such a manner. The doll is altogether unimpressive, a slim guy with an enormous cranium holding a bat above his head. His body is slightly contorted in a batter’s stance on a large wheel of cheese. Braun’s name is etched between his legs adjacent to a missing wedge. The bobble-head has eyebrows like a Cro-Magnon, and spindly Barney Fife arms.

It’s been a while since then-Pittsburgh Pirate Randall Simon took a good-natured swipe at the oversized Italian sausage at Miller Park. Swinging from the dugout steps, Simon swung the bat as the costumed consumable strode past, striking a 19-year old Brewers employee and causing her to nose-dive into the warning track in front of the dugout. Simon was escorted from the park in handcuffs, a ridiculous display of authority and overkill. The security power-play was reminiscent of the Harold Brier days when jaywalkers were ticketed and people going a few miles over the speed limit were sent to jail for the unpaid violation.

It’s spring, which means the beginning of tee-ball and soccer for kids. My young daughters began practices recently, which meant the purchase of two new baseball mitts, new cleats, bats, shin guards. It means league payments, team and parent orientations. I’ve been to more meetings in the past few weeks than a devout member of AA. I don’t mind the commitment—fact is I volunteer to help coach tee-ball, and attend every practice. When I was a kid, my parents never so much as attended a game, I’m not sure they knew I played sports. As a grown and graying man I spend most of my free time protecting my daughters from errant line-drives, overzealous base runners and jackass coaches. Last weekend I began coaching with a guy who has some great fundamental knowledge of baseball, but the bedside manner of Dr. Kevorkian.

I completely understand the retirement of uniform numbers. I respect the dignity and overall gesture embodied in the ceremony, especially in the case of players of historical significance like Jackie Robinson. His courageous entry into the exclusively white Wonder Bread ranks of professional baseball preceded the heroics of Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King by decades. Branch Rickey, the owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers, was instrumental in breaking the racial barrier. While his primary motive may or may not have been getting one of the best players in the world on his team, Rickey’s reasons are incidental. His ultimate actions are what mean so much more.

It’s been a busy, busy few weeks for the Milwaukee Bucks. A spring-cleaning if you will, including a new general manager and the replacement of the current head coach Larry Krystkowiak an uncontested lay-up away. There’s been a fair share of moaning by Bucks owner Herb Kohl regarding the finances and the woes of a smaller market team. This is stuff we’ve all heard before with the Brewers, a rhetorical deja vu.

It’s not easy being a “franchise player.” You’re picked out of a sea of potential players, hopes riding incredibly high, visions of pennants, world championships. That’s a lot of pressure for a young kid. Just ask Tony Mandarich (The Big Bust), or Pat Listach (former Brewer rookie of the year.) While Listach wasn’t a complete failure, he never lived up to expectations. Kenny Lofton, the player Listach beat-out for rookie of the year, went on to much greater success. Number one picks are a blessing or a curse. Management has to pick the front-runner, or risk alienating their fan-base. Keeping an established player can be just as harrowing. History does repeat itself and that’s bad news for the Brewers.

The guys did their observing indifferent cities last week before getting together Sunday in Cathedral Square to compare notes. Frank: I’m just back from our nation’s capital, my friend, and the Bucks’ drafting of Joe Alexander was popular with the Washington media because he lived up the road in Maryland...

Everything in moderation. The way we eat, drink, and even consume sports. It’s critical to how we live our lives, to our ultimate happiness. Going out to dinner with friends and enjoying a bottle of wine. That’s great. Keeping it all in perspective. Going to a ball game, spewing venom at opposing teams and others while swilling and spilling copious amounts of beer upon everyone and everything is probably a little askew. If you find yourself in the latter situation, it may be a good time to take a step back, look at the totality of things, and regain perspective, assess your priorities in life.

With this column, I am in an enviable situation where I can talk about Wisconsin sports with immunity. I do thank the folks at the Shepex for this window. I’ve covered the teams—pro, college and otherwise—for 15 years so it can’t be said I haven’t seen my share of the landscape. I’ve seen team managers, general managers, public relations and media managers come and go. I’ve been lucky to have off-the-record talks with coaches, stars, bench-warmers, Hall of Fame players. I’ve listened to jokes next to the batting cage told by Ken Griffey Jr., and have laughed at some risquokes offered by Gorman Thomas.