Bar math is fun, but unless done during the week itself, can be “taxing,” so don’t wait until the weekend to assess your financial means, or even credit card limit(s). So here’s a (precise and detailed) local breakdown of pro-football-special big beer in pitchers vs. buckets of bottles, and how to get the best bang for your buck. —– All this might save you enough so you can tip really well! And on and off, I’ve been schooled on such by fave servers. Like last night …

It’s Game Day in the beer and brat (and Milwaukee Burger) and Badger State, broadly speaking. But these are the pros we’re talking now, and you want to drink like a pro — not to Pack it in or to void-out the past 3-2 version Viking vibe — although those at UW are darn close to being far more than amateurs when imbiding. Then have enough money leftover, after you’ve paid your sports bar tab — and you know you’ll have one — to contribute in a meager way to salary cap considerations?!?

There is that 48-ounce Coors Light pitcher you can get at Green Mill, in Hudson and westwardly, during pro football games for $8.99. But just how does that stack up against the infinite number of places offering their bucket-of-beer-bottles special? (It may depend on what brew brand you desire, and they usually are a few of the main domestics, that come at differing prices, though usually only a slight variation, and you may be able to pair it and make it a combo, like that pool you may be shooting during halftime. Usually these are 12-ounce bottles, not the cans that can ramp it up to 16 ounces — or taps that often go up to 20 ounces. And you may or may not have to factor in tax. That’s a couple of paid ounces right there. And the pitcher is only a single tip …) But the server is at your table and this is a football Sunday, so she’s busy and you don’t want to make her wait in the wings, as she has plenty of them to serve, while you micro-calculate the best deal, and so get better service the next Sunday or other Game Day you are in, and you know you will do that at a favorite haunt or maybe two. So we at HudsonWiNightlife just did the math for you!

So here is a breakdown, and I must say I was a little surprised: If you go for the usual five bottles — possibly six once in a great while — and this may or may not be the Hotel California-ish “pink champagne on ice,” you are looking at a base rate of between $14 and maybe $20, and most prices are in the middle. Thus the best deal, all things considered, is this, measured by ounce and/or bottle: The Green Mill special comes in at, give or take a penny or two, 18 cents per ounce or $2.25 a bottle, as the best price. That number, and not on a jersey, of a $14 bucket at low-end sports bars, weighs in at about $2.80 a bottle, and if upwards, that being $18, you are looking at around $3.60 per bottle.

A secondary consideration, and this can be viewed more than one way, is that the Green Mill-type pitcher special equates to four bottles of beer. If you get the second pitcher, that amps it up to eight. You even if tipping a few can do the math: Five versus eight versus 10 bottles or its equivalent — that’s if you go with a second bucket round. So during pregame before you hit the sports bar, assess ahead what your party’s need happens to be. Don’t rely on reassessing at halftime. I have been told by favorite servers that people can lose track while in the moment, especially if it’s a great and close game — thus can you say overtime? — and drop a hundred or two on Any Given Sunday. So really, plan ahead and avoid looking at the void in your wallet come Monday morning. Or when drunk-dialing earlier in the a.m. So you can borrow money to get through Tuesday into Friday, (but wait, I only get paid every other week!)

Psst. Sometimes we go Badger Red with such specials. Relatedly: Saturday Night Football on ABC TV in some past years has been pre-empted by Spring Cup Series NASCAR and the World Series; those various responsibilities being shared by versions of ESPN (times 2), with those entities showing football owned by Walt Disney Co. So, so many layers. As this ain’t no Mickey Mouse. But moreso Madison. Conjure up Camp Randall.

As a followup, I must finally — as I’ve been readily checking in on Rodgers’ reaching-beyond-regionally rehab — post this little bit. Just after the non-trade but signing of the century, or at least the last decade, there was this now, not so little ol’ bar in the Milwaukee area that gained notice for the following offering. On days when the right number of points were scored, or yards applied to get to that — OK it actually was whether the pro football Jets won or loss — they’d pick up your bar tab. Apparently the whole thing! I think there was a proviso that you had to be there for the whole game which, wait, could mean you’d pick up, or they would for you, a bigger tab. I ponder if the offer so went down when Aaron and his Achille’s went asunder. First game. So that was the best chance to save your dough.
So if the local football specials currently listed in the Picks of the Week department aren’t enough, and you might be reminded by that metal Bulleit sign on the wall with its E before I, trek to the Brew City area and say hello to my mom and dad and brother and family while down there. (It was mom, a mostly non-fan it should be noted so not at a sports bar, who informed me of the injury to the star QB now with a new team. She said, and I should not quote her on this, that she thought it was his ACL, not his Achille’s. Close enough. Both are part of the (lower) leg. Or as Vince Lombardi so famously quipped, “The knee always the knee.” Except when its your heel.)

Share the Post:

Related Posts

My mom has told me not to be a potty mouth when I write, as she certainly would not appreciate hardly any of the standup humor on say, Comedy Central Radio. SNL maybe. But after 11:30 p.m. … But there comes a time where a man must make a stand. And for this jokester, it was now when he had to choose whether to pass on the opportunity that would otherwise bite him in the butt, for in front of and behind him is the Mother Lode. Or should I say load. Or “Mothers” of Invention. Heh heh, heh heh, Butthead, look...
So the wall is down. Of letters, that is. Not down by Mexico. Cemented into the concrete. Of the Kennedy Center. Where music has sat. (Near where a now defunct wrestling arena rusts in peace. Or a bloodied White House lawn. With leftover paper cups and plates, more likely bowls and small utensils, anyone?) Or more ornate than inside? A tarp the size of Pennsylvania, the predominant battle state, covers workers as they chip. So geez, how big are the letters? Four times 50 living workers high? But now none remain, or so we are told by flunkies. Or is...
A few years back, I wrote an article about Hudson Deacon Tom Kroll and how he did so many extra dutiful tasks, his living out the Gospels tirelessly, when his wife was ill, in addition to his regular job. I was inspired at the time to pen this, about my own lovely, disabled wife — we were separated briefly but now back together with our 40th anniversary this month, as wholehearted caregiving has many strains — and how an atypical view of standard roles, out of necessity, made things work, as far as our approach to work and home that’s...
What do fishing, maybe in the dark, thus a Texas ranch, snakes of various types and do they come or stay out after dusk, eating either and only fine food or snacks, and a game of cards — likely just one each — have in common. And no strippers or Chippendales. And an only half or quarter, not full Monty. (Who is Monty anyway?) Or cowboy or cowgirl hats. Although there was some dress-up. More Barbie than boots on, I think. It’s an easy answer, connected and conflicting, but not in all or dirty ways, bachelor and bachelorette parties. One of each...
It was clear to me at the most recent Jeff Loven music show in Hudson, for Memorial Day weekend, that there has been a changing of the guard. The sword has been passed. New blood, like Yungblud, has been brought in. And, I must say, loyalty — amongst the devotees who travel frequently and all across the two-state area to virtually all of Jeff’s shows — has been rewarded. They are the royalty, in what just makes good business sense that I can appreciate. In a significant but not unprecedented altering of course, I was not one of those asked...
Trial by fire. My broiling heart in my efficiency flat still beats a bit, in concern over those boiling over in worse apartments in a Chicago tenancy, or on an ocean island instantly-burn-your-feet beach or dessert, or forced to endure ice baths just to keep cool — or simply be offered no way to maintain an ice-dripping body other than also read a non-cookbook at the library, or select not a big steak you can’t afford but a 73/27 burger from a freezer and slap it on your forehead. Just not too hard. All these things are ones where you especially today either burn or...
Scroll to Top