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RIP Bob Uecker: More Than a Broadcaster, a National Treasure

Writer's picture: Mark RosenmanMark Rosenman


Bob Uecker’s final call was one for the ages, though not in the way Brewers fans would have hoped. The legendary broadcaster, who spent 54 years behind the mic in Milwaukee, passed away at 90 after a courageous battle with cancer. His remarkable career ended with the Brewers’ heartbreaking loss to the Mets in the NL Wild Card series, a game that encapsulated both the drama of baseball and the enduring charm of Uecker himself.




It was the kind of gut-punch collapse that Brewers fans will be replaying in their minds for years. Pete Alonso flipped the script with a ninth-inning, three-run moonshot, Starling Marte tacked on an insurance run, and the Mets sent Milwaukee packing with stunned silence hanging over American Family Field. But in classic Uecker fashion, he found the words—poignant and perfect—to sum up the moment, leaving us all with one last unforgettable call.




While Mets fans will remember the game for Alonso’s heroics, the real story was the man in the booth. Bob Uecker didn’t just call baseball—he narrated life with wit, humility, and a sense of timing that could rival any stand-up comic. Baseball has lost one of its great voices, and if there’s any justice, he’s now cracking wise with St. Peter about life in “the front row.” Rest in peace, Mr. Baseball. You’ll be missed on both sides of the foul lines.


Bob Uecker’s life in baseball reads like a script too good to be true—part comedy, part drama, and all heart. From his modest beginnings as a backup catcher who often joked about his .200 career batting average (though he would insist it was a solid .200), to his role as the voice of the Milwaukee Brewers for more than five decades, Uecker was the epitome of perseverance, humility, and humor. The man affectionately dubbed "Mr. Baseball" by Johnny Carson parlayed his knack for self-deprecating wit into a broadcasting career that earned him the Ford C. Frick Award from the Baseball Hall of Fame. Along the way, he won a World Series, became a sitcom star, and even shared the silver screen with Charlie Sheen in Major League. Whether calling a Brewers home run with his iconic “Get up! Get up! Get outta here! Gone!” or lampooning himself in commercials and on late-night TV, Uecker made the game of baseball—and life itself—a little more enjoyable for everyone.




Bob Uecker spent more than half a century proving that baseball isn’t just a game; it’s also a comedy routine. “Mr. Baseball” wore more hats in the sport than a souvenir vendor at a doubleheader. Player, broadcaster, actor, coach, ambassador, and stand-up comedian—Uecker’s résumé reads like a baseball Swiss Army knife, with a punchline hidden in every fold.


Beloved for his self-deprecating wit, Uecker never shied away from poking fun at his less-than-Hall-of-Fame-worthy playing career. He’s a man who turned mediocrity into a brand. As *Sports Illustrated’s* William Taaffe once said, “Uke is the man who made mediocrity famous.” And Uecker would be the first to agree—probably with a quip about how hard he worked to stay below average.


In six seasons (1962-67) as a major-league catcher, Uecker managed to hit exactly .200. That’s not a typo, folks—that’s precision mediocrity. Over 297 games, he collected 146 hits, launched 14 home runs, and drove in 74 runs. While those numbers won’t get you a plaque in Cooperstown, they might just get you a laugh at open mic night. “Anybody with ability can play in the big leagues,” Uecker once said. “But to trick people year in and year out the way I did? That’s a real accomplishment.”




Let’s be fair, though. Uecker wasn’t all punchlines and pop-outs. He was a solid defensive catcher, boasting a career fielding percentage of .981—no small feat in an era of blistering fastballs. In 1964, he even backed up Tim McCarver during the St. Louis Cardinals’ World Series championship season. Of course, Uecker didn’t actually play in the World Series, but his bench-warming was top-tier.


He was also a man of “career highlights,” though he’d be the first to downplay them. Among his proudest moments? Drawing an intentional walk from Sandy Koufax and escaping a rundown against the Mets. On the Koufax walk, Uecker once remarked, “I was pretty proud of that until I heard the commissioner wrote Koufax a letter threatening to fine him for damaging the image of the game.”


And don’t let his .200 batting average fool you—Uecker made a bigger impact behind the microphone than behind the plate. In 2003, he received the Ford C. Frick Award from the Baseball Hall of Fame, cementing his place in history as one of the most entertaining voices the sport has ever known.


Born and raised in Milwaukee, Uecker often joked that he was the first player ever signed and traded by his hometown Braves. But perhaps his finest moment sums up his career best: “The highlight of my playing days? I walked with the bases loaded to drive in the winning run … in an intrasquad game during spring training.”


If Bob Uecker were just a baseball player, he'd still be a household name. But the man made his career an Olympic event in the sport of versatility. After his playing days, Uecker dove headfirst into anything that could use a laugh—and some baseball insight—along the way.


Uecker took his talents to the small screen, hosting two syndicated TV shows: Bob Uecker’s Wacky World of Sports and Bob Uecker’s War of the Stars. The former eventually morphed into The Lighter Side of Sports (sadly with a different host—Mike Golic, who probably wasn’t wearing Uecker's plaid jackets). Despite the name change, the show remains one of the longest-running syndicated sports programs in American history, a fact probably just as astonishing as Uecker's .200 career batting average.


In the mid-90s, Uecker expanded his empire into hockey with a series of commercials for the Milwaukee Admirals of the American Hockey League. In one ad, he re-designed the team’s uniforms, turning them into plaid monstrosities that were equal parts hideous and hilarious, resembling the loud sports jackets he made famous in the '70s and '80s. The commercial was so iconic that the Admirals had a special event in 2006 where they donned the plaid jerseys during a game—only to auction them off for charity afterward. Because if there's one thing Uecker knows, it's how to get the last laugh.




But wait, there’s more! Uecker’s comedic genius wasn’t confined to sports. He crossed over into the wild world of professional wrestling. In March 1987, Uecker made his first appearance at WWF’s (now WWE) *WrestleMania III*, where he served as the ring announcer for the legendary showdown between Hulk Hogan and André the Giant. He didn’t just stop there—he was back in 1988, ringside, as a commentator during the opening Battle Royal and even doing some backstage interviews. Let’s face it, when Uecker walks into a room, you’re either laughing or wondering how you ended up in the middle of an epic comedy routine.



As for his comedic career, let’s just say Uecker was never going to win any batting titles, but he sure could hit it out of the park with a one-liner. After retiring from baseball, Uecker became a Tonight Show regular, making around 100 guest appearances, all while keeping the laughs coming. Most of his jokes were self-deprecating, with Uecker being the first to crack wise about his own underwhelming playing stats. Once, he joked that after he hit a grand slam off pitcher Ron Herbel, “When his manager came out to get him, he was bringing Herbel’s suitcase.” Classic Uke.


Then there were those famous Miller Lite commercials in the '80s, where Uecker managed to turn a simple stadium seat mix-up into comedy gold. In one spot, he’s told he’s in the wrong seat, only for Uecker to puff out his chest and proclaim, “I must be in the front row.” Of course, his seat was in the nosebleed section. It became so iconic that now, when you’re sitting in the furthest seat from the action at a game, it’s known as the “Uecker seat.” To this day, that term lives on in stadiums, where even the obstructed-view seats are affectionately dubbed in his honor.




Uecker didn’t stop there. He wrote two books: an autobiography, Catcher in the Wry (with Mickey Herskowitz), and Catch 222, which sounds like the title of a book you’d want to read if you ever wanted to understand why Bob Uecker is both a national treasure and a comedic genius.




In the acting world, Uecker was more than just a quirky broadcaster. He played George Owens, a sportswriter and father, on the sitcom Mr. Belvedere from 1985 to 1990. He even appeared in cameos in movies like O.C. and Stiggs and Fatal Instinct and guest-starred in shows like Who’s the Boss? and LateLine. Oh, and let’s not forget his turn as Harry Doyle, the hilariously tipsy announcer for the Cleveland Indians in the Major League trilogy. If you’ve ever watched the movie and found yourself quoting “Juuust a bit outside” after an erratic pitch, you’ve Uecker to thank for that immortal catchphrase.




Most recently, Uecker popped up in 2021 in Disney+’s Monsters at Work, voicing a parody of himself named “Bob Yucker.” Because of course, he did. There’s never a time when Uecker isn’t ready to make us laugh, whether it's in the broadcast booth, on the big screen, or even as a Disney character.




In the end, Bob Uecker was more than just a voice behind the microphone or a face on the big screen—he was the heart of baseball’s comedic soul. His career wasn’t defined by his .200 batting average or his stint in the broadcast booth; it was shaped by the laughs, the self-deprecating humor, and the way he made us all feel like we were sitting right next to him in that mythical “front row.” From the diamond to the silver screen, Uecker gave us more than just memories—he gave us joy. And in a world that often takes itself too seriously, that’s a gift that never fades. Rest in peace, Mr. Baseball. The game—and the world—will never be the same without you.

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