I love Milwaukee.

Exactly three years ago yesterday, I arrived at Marquette University for my freshman year. Since then, I've been lucky enough to meet some pretty great people from here who got me off-campus and showed me everything there is to love about this city. Since I'm not from here, I needed the help.

I grew up an hour west of Boston, Massachusetts, so the first time I drove up I-94 and saw American Family Field — I've since learned to ignore the sign out front and call it Miller Park — I was ignorant. Eager to learn, no question, but ignorant nonetheless.

Because of that, I know I'll never be a true Milwaukeean or Wisconsinite. Really, when push comes to shove, I'm a Masshole, something I have conflicting feelings about. I've fallen so in love with Milwaukee and really all of Wisconsin. This isn't fly-over country to me. I identify with this place much more than with Boston.

It's that love — and the inescapable, unavoidable truth that I'm an outsider — that drives me to do as much as I can to at least feel like I'm from here.

So, in July, when the Milwaukee Brewers were at 11 wins and free George Webb burgers dominated newsroom chatter, I viewed my burger as another way to feel like a native. Sadly, it took another month, but the Crew got the job done, and I knew I was getting my burger, come hell or high water.

Before I could, though, I was on George Webb coverage for the giveaway day Aug. 20. That meant talking to someone who'd been waiting since 10 a.m. (the giveaway started at 2 p.m.) to be the first in line; another person who took time off work to secure his burger ("It is what it is," he said); and a family that spent their day doing a hop, skip and a jump from one George Webb to the next, hitting four in under an hour and a half.

So, some really dedicated people.

It was 3:20 p.m. when I pulled into the George Webb on South Howell Avenue, right next to the airport.

I was giddy. I'd never heard of the giveaway lore before this summer and didn't realize how lucky I was to be here to experience it.

People form a line for free burgers, triggered by the Brewers winning 12 games in a row, at George Webb on South Howell Ave in Milwaukee on the afternoon of Aug. 20, 2025.

Not because of the burger — I texted my friend after I ate that I'd pay a dollar and nothing more for it — but because of what it represents. It's more than two buns, a patty, a pickle, ketchup and mustard. It's a Milwaukee tradition, almost a century old.

When I pulled in, the side streets were littered with cars, the line kept growing farther away from the building and the air was abuzz. Everyone was chatting with each other. A cement truck happily honked in celebration as it drove by.

After 15 minutes, I had my burger in hand and new friends all around me. Conversations continued out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. Some lasted a few minutes, some were longer. All ended with some kind of "nice to meet you."

It taught me what this is really about. Community.

These free giveaways seldom happen, so when they do, the entire city comes together. They're all celebrating the Brewers winning 12 games in a row, but they're also all celebrating each other and the place they call home.

It's the latest of many examples I've seen of something I respect most about this place.

People are proud to be from Wisconsin.

Once I started noticing it, I couldn't stop. Yesterday was more — maybe the best — proof.

Jose Juarez stands in line with his sons, Oliver Juarez, 16, and Ivan Juarez, 15, at George Webb on South Howell Ave in Milwaukee on the afternoon of Aug. 20, 2025.

After I was finished eating my burger and conversing with locals, I hopped in my car and experienced something almost poetic.

Driving back toward downtown, purposefully over the Hoan Bridge, my Spotify seemed to understand the weight of the moment. Bruce Springsteen's "Glory Days" came on.

The Brewers anthem playing after my first George Webb experience in celebration of a historic Brewers winning streak as I drove over a Milwaukee landmark with the perfect view of downtown? That's storybook stuff.

Springsteen had just finished the opening verse as I neared the Hoan's middle. As I drove over the crest, as all of Milwaukee came into sight unrestricted, Springsteen bellowed his first "glory days!" With chills running down my back, I stuck my arm out the window, feeling — for the first time — like a true Milwaukeean.

A glory day indeed.

This article originally appeared on Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: Thank you, George Webb and Brewers, for making me feel like a true Milwaukeean