Did I cry during the Bob Uecker documentary ‘Ueck’? You better believe I did.

Here’s something you may not know about me: I cry at movies. Like, all the time. I cry at sad movies, I cry at sort-of-sad movies, I cry at not-sad-at-all movies. It sounds corny but I find the act of sitting in a theater with likeminded strangers and taking in the Magic of Cinema to be, well, emotional. I remember seeing David Lynch’s The Straight Story in a theater and crying the second the opening titles rolled. I didn’t stop bawling until my man Richard Farnsworth drove his lawnmower all the way to Wisconsin.

Here’s something you may know about me: I love the late, great Bob Uecker. Like, a lot. I love Uecker the broadcaster, I love Uecker the deadpan comedian, I love Uecker the quintessential Milwaukeean. I’ve written about Uecker a million times. I may or may not have an informal shrine to Uecker next to my radio. When Uecker died on January 16, 2025 (the same day as Lynch, coincidentally), practically everyone I know reached out to me to offer their condolences. It was like a family member had passed.

So it stands to reason that during the sold-out world premiere of Ueck at the 2026 Milwaukee Film Festival Thursday night, I cried like a baby. Sitting in a theater with likeminded strangers (and plenty of friends) and taking in a documentary about Bob Uecker? Niagara Falls, Frankie angel. Dear readers, I did cry. A lot. But not during the moments I thought I would.

First, the film. Ueck is co-directed by Milwaukee filmmakers Steve Farr and Michael T. Vollmann. It both encapsulates Uecker’s long and storied career and serves as a fly-on-the-wall document of his final years. There are vintage clips aplenty: old Tonight Show appearances, old Miller Lite commercials, the time he got choked out by Andre the Giant. There’s Mr. Belvedere, Major League, that epic Baseball Hall of Fame induction speech. The clips are nothing dedicated Uecker heads haven’t seen before, but seeing them all again is a delight. Kudos to the filmmakers for corralling such a wild and wacky life.

The heart of Ueck is in the modern-day footage. Farr and Vollmann began shadowing Uecker in 2023, soon after he was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer. (Uecker never revealed his diagnosis publicly, but Farr and Vollmann capture a remarkable scene where he quietly shares the news with Christian Yelich.) We see Uecker at home with his wife Judy, reminiscing over old photos. We see Uecker ambling through the bowels of American Family Field, shooting the breeze with star players and 9-to-5 personnel alike. And we see Uecker in the booth, perched in his chair and peering out over the field, calling game after game of Brewers baseball. It’s here that Uecker seems the most happy, the most at ease and at home.

And it’s here where I found myself losing it. As several of his fellow broadcasters note, Uecker was a hoot on TV and in movies, sure, but the man could also call a hell of a baseball game. And hearing those calls again—and seeing those calls being made—hit me harder than I expected. Yep, Uecker was really, really, really good. And now, well, he’s gone. We simply don’t have Bob Uecker around to call Brewers games any more. What a drag. What a loss. We’ve already had a full season without him, but it still hurts. I cried.

Speaking of losses, there’s a shot in Ueck that may be one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen in a film, period. It comes immediately after the Brewers’ devastating season-ending loss to the New York Mets in Game 3 of the 2024 National League Wild Card Series. In what will end up being his final game, Uecker makes his final call (“That one had some sting on it”) and then just…sits there. Seen from a distance, the blurred shapes of fans filing out of the stadium occasionally obstructing the camera, we watch as Uecker sits in silence. He doesn’t know what else to do. He knows the season is over. He knows everything else is over. He knows he just called his final game. In three months, he’ll be gone.

And watching that, yeah, you better believe I cried. I was at that game, and it’s one of those crushing sports moments that will stick with me forever. Experiencing it again—this time from Uecker’s perspective—was absolutely gutting.

Sigh. But let’s not leave it at that. Ueck is a terrific film, a warm, funny, perfectly pitched film that serves as a fitting tribute to its subject. Again, kudos to Farr and Vollmann and all the other local talent who made it possible. You’ll cry, but you’ll also laugh. You’ll weep, but you’ll also have a blast.

The film won’t screen again during MFF26, but a general release is planned for this summer. When summer arrives, see it. Because while there’ll never be another Ueck, there’ll always be another summer.

This article is dedicated to my friend Erin, who always ribs me about my crying.