We blew a 3-2 lead over the Cardinals in 1982. Then, 26 years of losing. But at the end of that stretch, a playoff berth. We had the Phillies come to town and beat us. Bad. Then, the Ken Macha years. 2011? Shaun Marcum on short rest. David Freeze. Then came the 2012 collapse. We couldn’t put it together for four more seasons after that. But then, something clicked in 2017. A brand new start. A winning culture was instilled. Then, more heartbreak, only this time, we clawed and scratched at the cusp of greatness while enduring it. 2018? Chris Taylor. Yasiel Puig. David Freese again. Manny Machado. 2019 saw the Trent Grisham error. I’ll never hold that against him. Juan Soto lived in my nightmares for weeks. COVID ruined any hopes and dreams in 2020. A lost season. But then, 2021 began the first of nearly six seasons where we could confidently say, “man, this team might be different.” Braves buzzsaw. Diamondbacks buzzsaw. Pete Alonso and his jolly bunch of Mets. These three outcomes would make any franchise feel…cursed. To make matters worse, we lost Bob. The heart and soul of the team. We lost us. Then last year happened. 98 wins. A new franchise record. A massive win streak. Free burgers! Everyone clicked when it mattered most…until it mattered most in the NLCS against the Dodgers. Some saw this year as a possible setback. We moved Freddy and Caleb Durbin, dealt with early injuries, and a few sore spots in the lineup and the pitching staff. … 103 wins. 103 wins later, we mash San Diego, setting up this rematch with Los Angeles. …and now? The heartbreak. The losses. The failure. The worst seasons in franchise history. It doesn’t matter anymore. We made it, Milwaukee. We made it, Wisconsin. We are just four more wins from the top of the baseball world. Burn the boats. There’s no going back. The sting of defeat can no longer bite us. The Milwaukee Brewers are in the World Series, folks.