Bryan_Polcyn's Blog

So, we're getting down to crunch time.  As I mentioned a while back, I'm training for my second marathon.  I ran my first in 2005 (in Chicago), then got lazy again.  Now I'm back.

This time, I'm entering Milwaukee's Lakefront Marathon.  It's coming up October 5th.  That means I'm deep into the "build-up" phase, where the weekend runs getting really, really long, building up toward the 26.2 miles I'll have to trudge through on race day.

Tomorrow, I'm supposed to go 18 miles.  EIGHTEEN MILES?!  That's, like, $2.50 worth of gas by car!

But I guess that just means the big day is getting close.  And it means I'd better go check and make sure there's ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet.

Every frame of video you see on television represents roughly .03 seconds of real time.  That's three times LONGER than Michael Phelps' margin of victory in the 100m Butterfly Friday night.   A conventional video camera would not have been able to capture the difference between Phelps winning a record-tying 7th Gold Medal in one Olympics and Phelps suffering a devastating defeat.  Point-oh-one seconds!

To the naked eye, it appeared certain that Phelps came up short (did you see the look on his mother's face? - priceless).  But the high-speed cameras trained on the finish caught the incredible stretch for the touch pad in super slow-motion.

Until last night, I thought nothing could top Jason Lezak's impossible comeback in the final leg of the 4x100 relay to keep Phelps' hopes alive.  This was at least as dramatic.

And kudos to Mark Spitz for coming on NBC via satellite from Detroit to congratulate Phelps.  Contrary to recent comments attributed to Spitz, the legendary Olympic champion was humble, supportive and gracious in support of Phelps' amazing accomplishment.  I think it showed a lot of class.

As I watched our (outstanding) coverage of Brett Favre's charter jet landing at the airport in Green Bay - and #4 driving off the tarmac in a red SUV with police lights in slow pursuit - I couldn't help but think about a peculiarly similar spectacle more than a decade ago.

I'll never forget where I was and what I was doing when Al Cowlings drove O.J. Simpson down a California freeway in a low-speed police "chase" in the infamous White Ford Bronco. 

And I'll never forget where I was and what I was doing when I found myself watching the surreal return of an NFL legend to the town (and team) that wasn't sure it wanted him anymore.  I didn't realize it was coming.  It just sort of happened.  My 5-year-old daughter could sense the moment.  She was fixated on the screen.  As Favre drove away in a motorcade fit for a President, my little girl announced without provocation or hesitation, "I'm going to cheer for Brett Favre again this year."

She doesn't realize it, but I think she just might have spoken for a few million people.

Brett's finally on a plane back to training camp.  60,000 fans are supposed to be in the seats at Lambeau.  Aaron Rodgers is ready to lead the Pack in the family night scrimmage.  And there's a storm over Green Bay.

Appropriate, no?

As a resident of Wisconsin and a native of St. Louis, the last thing I want to see is the Chicago Cubs in the playoffs.  So, rest assured, I'm not wishing for this to be true.  I just thought it was fascinating.

I'm watching the game Monday night and looking at the Cubs jersey.  It says, in block letters "CHI" on one side of the buttons, and "CAGO" on the other.

CHI, by itself, is often used as shorthand for Chicago.  And, in Roman numerals, "C" is 100.  Since Roman numerals are often used to represent years, you could read "C" as "100 years."

That would make CHICAGO = CHI 100 years AGO.  Chicago 100 years ago.  1908 is the last time the Cubs won the World Series. 

Freaky, isn't it?

So, as a diehard Cardinals fan, I will henceforth refer to Chicago as "CHICAGO-and counting."

When planning the cost of a trip to Miller Park, there's a lot to consider: tickets to the game, parking pass, beer, brats, nachos, maybe a foam finger.  It's doubtful you'd figure "bail" into the equation.  But for hundreds of fans each year, a trip to the ballpark ends in handcuffs.

Whether it's underage drinking, public urination, or a fight in the stands, some fans just can't soak up the Major League experience without acting like Major League you-know-whats.  But, have you ever wondered what happens to drunk and disorderly fans at Miller Park?  It's a timely question as the Brewers threaten to draw 3-million fans for the first time ever; even more timely as the hated Cubs come to town for a 4-game series.

Tonight's investigation will put numbers - and names - with some of the most unusual behavior at the ballpark.  And we'll reveal the one team the Brewers play that generates the most fan arrests in the stands.  Think you know who?  Don't miss my story tonight (Sunday July 27th) at 9pm!

My Sunday night story on Food Stamp Fraud is getting bigtime buzz on local talk radio.  Conservative AM talker Charlie Sykes spent his entire 10 o'clock hour Tuesday morning playing the audio of our investigation (with stops for commentary) and taking calls from listeners. 

Check out the podcast of Sykes' show (it's part 2 from 7/15/08). 

First, Miller.  Now, my beloved Anheuser-Busch.  The once proud, dominant, masculine, midwestern beer belt has been swallowed - chugged like a can of Beast on a college campus.  Guzzled like a warm Natural Light in your parents' garage.

InBev?  Who the (blank) is InBev?  At least I'd heard of Coors.

I grew up at Busch Stadium.  The original Busch stadium.  I took my first A-B Brewery tour at age 7 - not for the beer, but for the Clydesdales and the gift shop loaded with St. Louis Cardinals souvenirs.  (In case you didn't know, A-B once owned the Cardinals.)

I can still recite the contents of the Budweiser label by heart...

"This is the famous Budweiser beer.  We know of no beer produced by any other brewer which costs so much to brew and age.  Our exclusive beechwood aging produces a taste, a smoothness, and a drinkability you will find in no other beer, at any price."

No Google.  No cut and paste.  That's from the heart.  The same heart that some Belgian conglomerate just ripped out.  This isn't just another big corporate merger to me.  It's beer.  And it's personal.

The temptation in Milwaukee may be to celebrate.  Misery loves company, hey?  From where I sit, it's just bad news all around.   

You played.  We cheered.  You retired.  We cried.  You rode off into the sunset a hero.  I understand you have "the itch" to play.  But, please... don't scratch.

This is Aaron's team now. 

Your legend is at stake.

There are hardly two bigger stories in Milwaukee this week than: (1) a federal jury finding ex-alderman Michael McGee guilty of shaking down business owners; and (2) the chaos surrounding federal disaster assistance (food vouchers) for low-income flood victims, none of whom are required to show proof they actually sustained flood damage.

What I find so interesting, though, is the widely disparate reactions to those stories from different groups of people.

Some see the food stamp fiasco as evidence of government waste and an entitlement mentality gone mad.  Others see it as dramatic evidence of skyrocketing food prices and rampant poverty in the inner city.  (And that's just in our newsroom)

While many observers rejoice over Mike McGee's conviction, his most ardent supporters STILL say "it isn't fair."  They see him as a "martyr."  A victim.

What does it say about this community when so many people can look at the same pictures, the same evidence, the same stories - and draw such vastly different conclusions? 

No, not a hybrid car.  Not an iPhone.  Not an Aaron Rodgers bobblehead.

I finally got a foul ball at a major league baseball game.

It came in batting practice, but who cares?  I've sat in prime foul ball territory at dozens of MLB games in my life.  I practially grew up at Busch Stadium in St. Louis.  Never once did a foul ball (or home run ball) come closer than 10 rows away.

Until now.  After watching 20 minutes of BP from the right field bleachers at Miller Park, I gave up and walked back up to the concourse.  Moments later, a ball came screaming past the right field foul pole, bounced about 10 feet from where I was standing and ricocheted down the hallway.  I raced after it, weaved in and out of several fans who either didn't realize a baseball was bouncing past them or didn't care, and pounced on it. 

Along the way, my sunglasses fell off.  A kind gentleman picked them up and offered to trade them for the baseball.  Sorry, my friend.  I've waited my entire life for a foul ball.  I'm keeping this one.  (He gave my glasses back anyway.)

Lake Delton is empty.

The words sound so ridiculous, I can hardly grasp what they mean. 

Have you seen the pictures?  Incredible.  Flooded basements?  I expected that.  Swollen rivers?  No surprise. 

But entire houses floating down a raging river that never existed before?  A county highway completely washed away?  Lake Delton - the centerpiece of Wisconsin tourism - sucked dry like a plug pulled from a bathtub?  Unbelievable.

(I know, I know.  I don't post anything for 16 days, now I'm posting for the second time in an hour.  What can I say?  I have the day off and my 7 month old is napping.)

If you haven't been to Port Washington in a while (or ever), this Sunday is a good time for a visit.  I'm biased, of course, because I live there.  But, I think Port is a hidden gem that - to folks south of, say, Mequon - might as well be in Iron County.  (It's closer than you think).

Port is completing a major streetscape project that will hopefully give a big boost to the picturesque  - but struggling - downtown.  Among the improvements, new wider sidewalks made from brick pavers.  Ultimately, some of the restaurants will add outdoor seating (the owner of Wilson House told me last night he's awaiting word on permission to do just that).  In addition, the old Smith Bros. building was rehabbed more than a year ago (unfortunately, there's still no restaurant or other major tenant beyond a coffee shop).

Port may be on the verge of a major comeback.  If so, it starts this weekend.  The main street through downtown reopens for the first time Sunday, June 1, and the city plans a street festival from noon to 4pm to celebrate.  Come check it out.

My official "chip" time is still listed on the Chicago Marathon website: 4:00:47

47 seconds away from a 4-hour marathon!  For three years, it's been gnawing at me.  Goading me to try again.

Now, it's important to point out, I've never been a long-distance runner.  Athletic, maybe.  For a 35-year-old father of two, I can get around okay.  But I never ran track or cross country.  Never really liked running, unless I was playing a sport (like soccer).

But my brother (Mr. Boston Marathoner himself) convinced me to give it a shot in 2005.  And I took him up on the challenge, figuring it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.  It was supposed to be.  But then I came oh, so close.  47 seconds. 

I've finally decided to give it one more shot.  I just signed up for Milwaukee's Lakefront Marathon (Oct 5th).  Money's been spent.  Guess I'd better get my running shoes on.

My producer had the bright idea a few months ago of requesting the state's list of objectionable license plates -- all the personalized plate applications that have been denied, because they were offensive, obsene, etc.

When we got the Excel spreadsheet full of more than 8,000 letter and number combinations, I was engrossed.  Some of it is funny, some disturbing, some confusing. 

Mostly, though, it is fascinating.  So, I wanted to post the entire list here for you to peruse.  Unfortunately, our news managers - in a bout of journalistic responsibility - decided it would be best not to place such potentially offensive and obscene material on our website. 

Still, it's my contention that our story will pique many viewers' curiosity as to what this magical list really contains.  So, here's another website that has a searchable database of Wisconsin's objectionable plates.

If you're interested in America's obsession with vanity plates, a guy in New York is writing a book called, License To Roam: Vanity Plates and the Stories They Tell.  He's done some really interesting research on this.