Bless You, Jody Gerut

The relationship between fathers and daughters—especially during a girl’s teenage years—can have a certain fragility to it. I learned early on that the best way to navigate these years, generally speaking, is for Dad to remain on “mute” as much as possible.

For my daughter and me, baseball has helped us get past those moments when voices or eyebrows get raised. The great American pastime has lived up to its reputation, connecting father and daughter for two decades in a way that is reminiscent of the bond it created between my dad and me during my childhood five decades ago.

Following baseball brings both triumph and tragedy, and as any avid Milwaukee Brewers fan will tell you, there has been plenty more of the latter throughout the club’s fifty-one-year history. What follows is the story of how an error by an unremarkable outfielder named Jody blossomed into a reservoir of baseball memories that perhaps my daughter will one day share with her own children.

My twenty-one-year-old daughter, Sigal, and I have shared a passion for baseball that dates back to her first Milwaukee Brewers game in 2001. She was not quite two years old, but the inspirational seed was planted and, thankfully, her love for the game has only intensified over the past two decades. A passion for baseball cards and Brewers Fan Fests would be interspersed with many more visits to Miller Park. Family road trips to other cities, such as Kansas City, Cincinnati, Boston, and St. Louis would often include a ballgame or—if we visited out of season—a stadium tour.

Living as we do just outside of Madison, Wisconsin, about eighty miles west of Milwaukee, a day trip to beautiful Miller Park makes for a wonderful and fairly easy way to see a major league ballgame and continue the special memories with Sigal and my wife, Michelle.

Sigal had just turned ten when the three of us drove to Milwaukee to meet my mother, my sister and her family, and a smattering of cousins on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in July 2009. The Brew Crew hosted the Atlanta Braves in a contest between clubs teetering around .500 but essentially going nowhere. Ryan Braun was emerging as a bona fide star in his third season, while his slightly older teammate Prince Fielder was putting together a .299 / 46 HR / 141 RBI season that would net him fourth place in the National League’s MVP voting.

Craig Counsell was a utility infielder who played third base that day. For the past six years, of course, Counsell has masterfully managed his hometown team, netting playoff appearances in 2018 (NLCS), 2019 (wild card), and 2020 (wild card).

Little did I dream, however, that the Brewer who would make the biggest impression on my daughter that afternoon in 2009 was a little-known backup outfielder by the name of Jody Gerut.

Gerut, an Elmhurst, Illinois native and Stanford history major, logged six seasons in the majors—mostly with the Indians, Padres, and Brewers between 2005 and 2010. Kind of like the old Miller Lite tagline, Gerut was everything you wanted in a backup outfielder—and less. He was obtained by the Brewers in a 2009 trade with San Diego for another fourth outfielder, Tony Gwynn Jr.

The Brewers would get shelled 10–2 that July afternoon, but that would be far from the headline event from my daughter’s perspective. The game was moving along—probably around the sixth inning—when an Atlanta batter lofted a “can of corn” fly ball to center. Gerut, starting for just the eighteenth time that year, took at most a couple of steps as he prepared for the easy catch. By my recollection, it landed perfectly in Gerut’s glove before he inexplicably let the ball fall to the grass. This one could have been caught by a scarecrow.

The public address announcer didn’t need more than a couple of seconds to advise the crowd that an error was charged to the center fielder, Jody Diego Gerut.

“Dad, what’s an error?” asked my little...