The Milwaukee Brewers surged to great success in the late 1970s and early ’80s, culminating with their first (and still only) pennant in 1982. Despite rostering several future Hall of Fame players, the Brewer success stalled in 1983. By 1985 the Brewers were perennial losers, leading to smaller and drunker crowds at Milwaukee County Stadium.
To combat the wave of drunk and disorderly behavior at the stadium, the team asked local Ad firm Animagination (yes, this is real) to create a PSA dissuading folks from getting too drunk and rowdy. Using crass stereotypes of the wasted, overweight white man in the bleachers, they created the now-famous Two-Fisted Slopper. The PSA ran through 2000 and has recently returned to run at American Family Field. But who was the inspiration for the Two-Fisted Sloppper? What is he up to in 2025? Read to find out more…
April 20, 1984
Milwaukee County Stadium Parking Lot
Gerald surveyed the trail of hot coals snaking ahead of him. How hard could it be? Guys on TV walk across hot coals all the time. He bet his buddies eight bucks that he could do it. Plus, Gerald had a four pack of Schlitz Malt Liquor, the better part of a pint of Beam, and a handful of Ephedrine in his system. What could go wrong?
It was 6 p.m. and they’d been tailgating since 3. Gorman Thomas would be in earshot from their bleacher seats. Sure, he was on the wrong team, but Gerald couldn’t wait to see the former Brewers slugger, even if he was now a Mariner. And Charlie Moore told Gerald he could tag along to Cesar’s Inn tonight. Maybe Gorman would go, too.
But back to the hot coals: Loaded with Milwaukee courage, Gerald tore off his shoes, then his socks and persuaded his feet not to feel the pain enforced by the 400-degree coals…
Hours later, three of his toes stripped of their skin and throbbing mercilessly, Gerald Barrett stumbled numbly through the turnstile into County Stadium. It was already the 5th inning and there was no score. He managed to summon three dollars and fifty cents from his torn windbreaker and slap it down on the concession counter. “Miller High Life,” Gerald belched. His tailgating buddies were nowhere in sight. It was still early, but not for much longer.
Gerald straddled the aluminum bleacher and stared up to the starry sky. He was thirsty. He slugged down half the High Life in his left hand and raised one finger on his right hand toward the nearest beer vendor. Several flimsy, humid singles emerged from his jean pocket. “Keep it,” Gerald slurred as he flipped the dollar bills at the sweating vendor. Gerald didn’t know it then, but tonight was the hottest April 20 on record in Milwaukee.
Two wax cups of High Lifes in tow, Gerald staggered through the bleachers shouting “Take yourself to the ballgame!” at a young couple seated in row six. When they failed to respond, he tried: “I don’t care if you ever get back!”
“Have another, you two-fisted f*****,” the irritated young man suggested.
His partner, a young woman with a Rollie Fingers novelty handlebar mustache, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, buy yourself peanuts and Cracker Jacks you two-fisted f*****,”
Gerald tore off his windbreaker in disgust, his white tank top drooping with angst and perspiration, his ample midriff surging with gravity. He tried to swing the windbreaker above his head like a rally towel, but instead caught himself in the lip with the zipper. Bubbles of blood sprung from his mouth as he shuffled unsteadily toward what he imagined was his bleacher seat. “Let’s start the wave,” Gerald tried to say but all the crowd heard was the sound of his wax cups crushing to the concrete as he lurched suddenly forward, High Life splashing as he fell face first onto the aluminum bleacher.
Gerald didn’t remember what happened next, which was his unconscious body being roughly carried by security to the bowels of County Stadium. He was later transferred to the West Allis Memorial Hospital due to concern of alcohol poisoning. Very few of the 12,998 souls at County Stadium on April 20, 1984 remember the complete game shutout thrown by Seattle’s Jim Beattie or the two RBI by Strormin’ Gorman. Among the things Gerald Barrett wouldn’t remember was that this was the night the West Allis native became “The Two-Fisted Slopper.”
West Allis, April 2025
“No, I don’t remember the shutout. I don’t even remember if I saw Gorman. I certainly never made it to Cesar’s Inn, not that Charlie was making a genuine offer. I just know that I walked across hot coals in the parking lot, during our tailgate. Then, I got all f***** up and fell down on the bleachers. I can still taste the aluminum.”
Now a trim, remarkably healthy looking 55 years old, Gerald Barrett is a long way from popping pills and slamming malt liquor in the County Stadium parking lot. He owns a pair of George Webbs in the Milwaukee area and spends most of his weekdays operating his online memorabilia shop. On the weekends, he acts in various West Allis Players productions. At least once every couple years, Gerald says, someone comes by asking about the “Two-Fisted Slopper.”
“Yeah, they’ll call, or most of the time email. Subject line is usually some tired stuff like ‘Two-Fisted Slopper: Where is he now?’ Well, I never went anywhere. I’m here.”
Here is West Allis, in a lovely home just southeast of Star Fair Park, Gerald co-owns the bungalow with partner Charlene and their twin dogs Hodge and Podge. Charlene, Gerald says, is the “main bread-winner” (he’s coy about her occupation), and admits that Hodge and Podge might not really be twins.
“Our dogs are idiots but we love them. They’re both rescues. We did a DNA test and there’s some evidence that suggests they have the same bloodline. Maybe they’re fraternal. I do mistake them at times, but that’s on me.”
Gerald hasn’t been mistaken for the Two-Fisted Slopper since the mid-1980s, due, in great part, to an unlikely coincidence: shortly after the April 20, 1984 debacle at County Stadium (Barret received a ticket for Public Intoxication and two charges of Menacing, each later reduced to Petty Hooliganism), he realized how wrong his life’s choices had been. After years abusing his body “like a furloughed stunt man,” Gerald took the County Stadium arrest and subsequent criminal proceedings as a sign: time to turn his life around. And the opportunity came from the exact source of the problem.
The problem was rampant drunkenness at Milwaukee County Stadium. By 1985, the Brewers were no longer consistent winners and neither were many of the few thousands who attended their home games. Lydia Harmon, co-founder of Animate This, was hired by the Milwaukee Brewers to create a PSA to run on the big screen during games, a brief video dissuading fans from having nights like Gerald’s infamous April 20th. But Lydia also had her own problem. She knew the animation would feature a quintessentially over-served Wisconsin man: rotund, ill-dressed but determined to drink and get rowdier with each return trip from the concession stand—but she needed the platonic ideal of this man upon which they could build their animation. As fortune would have it, Lydia’s good friend Dolores Fuente just happened to be a big Brewers supporter and Rollie Fingers fan, known for donning Fingers’ trademark handlebar mustache for games, earning her the nickname Dolly Fingers. That’s right, Dolly was the young woman Gerald menaced at the old ballgame on the fateful night in April of 1984.
Fortune has “Fingers”
During the criminal proceedings following Gerald’s unhinged pestering of Dolores and Edgar Fuente, Dolores decided Gerald deserved a second chance. She and Edgar agreed to reduce two counts of Menacing to Petty Hooliganism, sparing Barrett the prospect of Huber Law. In addition, the Fuentes decided to waive the restitution fee if Gerald promised to perform community service that provided “education and awareness of the dangers presented by binge-drinking and alcoholism.” Gerald eagerly agreed. And what more apt way to provide such education than by appearing in a PSA directed at encouraging Brewer fans to drink responsibly?
The answer was, of course, none more apt.
Dolores connected Lydia Harmon from Animate This to Gerald and a deal was struck. If Gerald was willing to portray his past self in the PSA, not only would his community service responsibilities be satisfied, but Gerald would have a new direction: acting. In the early versions of the PSA, Gerald channeled everything from that April night in 1984: the confusion, the sweat, the burned toes. He delivered the rotund, unsteady, over-served and determined to drink performance Lydia was seeking.
Gerald was ecstatic. He rented every copy of East Of Eden he could find. He followed with great interest the career of a young Crispin Glover. He even landed a part as Jigger Craigin in the West Allis Player’s production of Carousel. Then, unexpected news struck: Lydia Harmon called Gerald and explained that the video they recorded of Gerald would be used to inform the animation. In other words, they wouldn’t be using his performance video. Animate This, the company for whom she worked, was going full animation for the County Stadium PSA. Crestfallen but energized by the upcoming casting call for Hairspray at the Village Playhouse, Gerald stuck with acting. Only one last surprise remained.
“I was surprised when they asked me to help name the character for the County Stadium PSA. I tried to remember what Dolly and Edgar had called me that night in ‘84. I knew it ended with f***** but I couldn’t conjure the clever wording they used. Obviously, I deserved their criticism. But I had to call up Dolly to find out what it was they called me. Well, first I had to call my lawyer to call her lawyer and make sure it was okay to contact her. Turns out the statute of limitations and all that…so I called her.”
Dolores Fuentes, the unlikely glue to the Two-Fisted Slopper saga, was just 21 the night of the incident. She and Edgar were out on their first date.
“Ed and I met at Western Days in June of 1983. He noticed me wearing my Rollie handlebar mustache and sidled up to me: ‘You wanna save me?’ he asked. I said ‘Whaddya mean?’ He said, ‘You know, you like Rollie, you wanna save me?’ I laughed. I guess I did. You know Rollie saved 97 games for the Crew from ‘81-’84. Dude’s in the Hall of Fame. Anyhow, Ed and I were inseparable from that night on. Wait, we were talking about Gerald. Yeah, we called him the Two-Fisted F*****.”
Lydia Harmon at Animate This pivoted from Two-Fisted F***** to Two-Fisted Slopper and an animated legend was born. The PSA began running in July of 1985 and the circle was complete. Gerald had completed his community service, found a new calling (acting), and Lydia Harmon delivered an important PSA that provided an amusing reminder to fans that very few people wanted to deal with public drunkenness at County Stadium.
The Former “Slopper” Today
Gerald continues to fill the occasional acting role. His latest is as George McFly in a West Milwaukee production of Great Scott! Back To The Future: The Musical. His online store’s sales are booming, offering an array of hard-to-find collectibles ranging from out of print WWF cage-match fan fiction, to game-worn (allegedly by former Dodger Alejandro Peña) athletic supporters, to Nancy Reagan’s astrological charts and the like.
Gerald is philosophical about his transformation from actual Two-Fisted Slopper to archetypical Two-Fisted Slopper to proponent against the Two-Fisted Slopper. “I’ve had a good run. And I’m thankful for the kindness of Dolly and Ed Fuentes. They could have easily trumped up charges to the highest degree. I would’ve been on work-release and stuck with thousands in restitution. They gave me a second chance that led to the chance of a lifetime. Method acting has brought me great satisfaction.”
I asked Gerald if he still goes to Brewers games and if he has any advice for fans.
“Yeah, I’ll still go to the odd weekday game. Never a Cubs game. I can’t stand those sloppers. But I hope there isn’t a single fan at Brewer games that has to deal with the guy I once was. I ask fans to drink responsibly. Don’t be that guy. You know the one who makes umpteen trips to that stand, always interrupting a row or even a section, getting rowdier with each return trip? If a slopper is still slopping around, please let an usher know, or tell a county sheriff or go to the Fan Assistance Center, located in the Main Concourse at section 18. Oh yeah and get tickets to Great Scott! Back to The Future: The Musical before they sell out. It is your…density.”
****Note: Lydia Harmon from Animate This was not consulted for this story as it is far too silly for anyone to have considered such a thing.
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