In general, I'm not a superstitious person. I believe a little bit in karma, but not much in fate. And I certainly never knock on wood, toss salt over my shoulder or pray to a higher power on topics less important than the health and safety of my family and friends.

But when it comes to sports, I've already blogged about how the rules go out the window, because except in a peripheral way, to most of us, the successes and failures of our favorite teams mean absolutely nothing in the real world.

Which is exactly why sports superstition are so much fun. The sheer insanity of the notion that what I wear or where I watch a Brewers playoff game has any effect on its outcome invokes both a delightfully childlike sense of enthusiasm and a reaffirmation that fans in the stands (or oddly, in their living room) can propel professional athletes to new levels of performance.

Of course I believe in home-field advantage. But my rational side knows it has its limits. This weekend, it's time to tell my rational side to shut up.

I read once that 80 percent of all Americans believe that their rooting has a direct correlation to the outcome of a game. I don't doubt it, and until someone can prove me wrong, I'm all in.

I bet some of you are, too.

And this is why I've been thinking long and hard about what I'll be wearing to the Brewers playoffs games this weekend at Miller Park. My choice for Saturday is a no-brainer.

Of all the many, many Brewers T-shirts I've bought at Spring Training and in thrift stores, one ugly, thinning shirt holds special significance. My wonderful late grandmother bought me the amazingly ugly Robin Yount shirt pictured in the photo above in 1990, when The Kid was still an active player.

The diamond and the outline of his name is neon pink, his career stats (to date) screened in the background. It's stretched, thread-bare and ugly – and hardly in a retro hipster sort of way. I now only wear it on very special Brewers occasions, and it reminds me both of …

I'm not exactly Alec Baldwin, but I'm a fairly hairy guy. Strangely, my facial hair grows somewhat more slowly than the rest of the hair on my body.

So commence your ridicule; I present you my 2011 Brewers playoff mustache (day five).

In my defense, I just started growing this tickler on Friday, so it's pretty new. I don't even exactly know why I decided to try it on for size, although surely a tribute to John Axford is part of it.

Maybe it's because I've always found mustaches hilarious, and when the Brewers reached the World Series in 1982, I'm guessing many more Milwaukee fans were stachin.' Perhaps I can be their good luck charm this time around and propel them to victory.

Or at least that's what I am telling my wife.

Meanwhile, I feel totally ridiculous this week, walking into the bank, into Whole Foods or anywhere else, forgetting about the "dustache" slowly taking root on my face. I find myself explaining to people that this is a playoff mustache, not a real mustache. Most people seem confused and disinterested.

But this is just a dry run of sorts, because on Friday, I'm guest-hosting Fox 6's "Real Milwaukee." As the demographics of OnMilwaukee.com and "Real Milwaukee" might not be exactly the same, I don't want their viewers' first impression of me to be a guy with precious little live TV experience who wears creepy, patchy mustache.

So the 'stache will be gone for 24 hours before I start it up again, this time for real. And I'll grow it as long as the Brewers remain in the playoffs – which, hopefully, will be a long time. Even if the Brewers advance to game seven of the World Series, I won't look much like Axford, but it'll be the best I can do.

Go Brewers. Go mustaches. Go Milwaukee!

Do you remember those Brewers games in the mid '90s, when you and 8,000 of your closest friends would freeze your butts off on a chilly April night at old Milwaukee County Stadium?

I sure do, and I also remember that despite the announced attendance, there were really only about 6,500 fans shivering on a Monday night. When we heckled a player, he heard us.

Only part of me misses those days; a sold-out Miller Park benefits everyone. Well, everyone except for the kids who were like me, buying the cheapest seats then sneaking our way into an empty front row of "Diamond Box" seats.

The reality is that everyone loves a winning team, and the Brewers are certainly one this year. Stacked with current and future superstars and playing in a beautiful, albeit sterile stadium, there are many reasons to jump on this bandwagon. It's hardly a bad thing.

So why do some of us long-time, die-hard Brewers fans thumb our noses at the Yovanis-come-lately? We should be happy that our home team, not the one that's 100 miles away and is the reigning Super Bowl champion, is getting all the press right now.

Right?

I say cut these newbies some slack and be happy Milwaukee is stricken with a case of Brewers fever.

But what about people who weren't born here? I always wonder why folks who move to Milwaukee are expected to become instant Brewers, Bucks and Packers fans. When I lived in Rhode Island, I not only didn't cheer for the Red Sox, I cheered against them. When I lived in Washington, D.C., I felt some pity for the pitiful Redskins, but I never rooted for them. How could someone who moves to Milwaukee from Chicago be expected the renounce his or her loyalty to the Cubs and become a Brewers fan?

If I was forced to live the rest of my life in Chicago, I promise you this: I will never, ever root for the baby, or full-sized, Bears.

I've talked to some transplants who will root for the Brewers – unless they're playing against their home team. I guess I sort of get that, especially if y…

Every time I read a travel piece about Milwaukee, it leads with beer and brats – and it really bugs me. An article in last week's Washington Post did it again, but this time it wasn't so bad.

In "Milwaukee without the beer and brats," it opened with:

"I'd been in Milwaukee for three days, and I hadn't yet had a sip of beer or a bite of brat.

Sacrilege, I know. After all, Milwaukee is beer city. Miller, Pabst, Schlitz and Blatz all originated here. And what goes well with beer? Bratwurst, of course. Thanks to Milwaukee's German heritage, brats are a staple on local menus."

Nancy Trejos' piece instead talked about the Iron Horse Hotel, the Harley Museum, the Public Market, Discovery World, Bradford Beach and the Art Museum. It was a nice, if not slightly predictable piece. She only mentioned Chicago at the beginning and the end.

"With Chicago just a train or car ride away, I couldn't resist making the trek on another night to have dinner with an old friend. We had a lovely time, as I always do when I'm in Chicago, one of my favorite cities. But this time, I found myself eager to return to Milwaukee."

My only hope is that someday, somewhere, a travel writer will leave the brat of a Milwaukee story. But maybe that's wishful thinking.

Read the whole story here.