A friend from out of town called yesterday afternoon and asked how Brewers fans were reacting in light of the team's recent slump and the series opening loss to Philadelphia.

"Are they freaking out?" he asked.

"You bet," I answered. "But, it's nothing new. They've been freaking out since May."

He asked what I meant, but I didn't have time to explain. I'll give it a shot now, but I'm not sure if I have the words.

A baseball pennant race is a rollercoaster ride. It's an E-ticket event filled with ups, downs, twists and turns that leaves you feeling nauseous, scared and exhilarated -- all at the same time.

At most theme parks, the ride lasts less than two minutes. When it's over, you realize that the vertical loops and G-force thrills were fun, but it was the preliminaries -- the drive in to the complex, the walk through the parking lot, the admission gate and the line -- were actually the parts to be savored.

Ask yourself this, Brewers fans: Have you enjoyed the preliminaries?

You and your team have reached the front of the line. Everyone is settling into place and the attendant is about to pull down the harness and flip the switch.

There are 15 games left in the season. The Brewers are struggling. That can't be argued. They've lost eight of their last 11 games and watched a once-comfortable wild-card lead dwindle to a scant three games while the Phillies, Astros and Cardinals put the paddles to seasons that were once on life support.

The Brewers' offense looks comatose and the back end of their bullpen should come with air sickness bags. They haven't looked like a playoff team in the past two weeks, but they have a three-game lead with 15 to play and are tantalizingly close to spraying champagne for the first time in more than a quarter-century.

This is it, Brewers fans. You've waited for this moment for a season, a decade, some of you have been waiting a lifetime for this opportunity...

And you're blowing it.

That's right.

Some of you, at least, are blowing it.

You think the Brewers look nervous and uncomfortable? You think they're choking down the stretch and squandering a golden opportunity?

Look in the mirror.

If you are letting feelings of gloom, doom and, in some cases, anger cloud the way you're experiencing this period in Brewers history, you are making a mistake.

Talk about role reversal ... A sportswriter is telling fans that they are too jaded. I can sense the angry Talkbacks coming already: Stop being a homer, Drew; Come down from the press box and get off your soapbox, because you don't understand what it means to be a fan...

I can't counter that last charge. I was neutered as a fan long ago in a quest to provide accurate and unbiased reports on the teams I was assigned to cover.

Though I don't have a specific beat any more, I still love to follow the stories. A baseball season is a novel with 162 chapters. I may not live and die with the wins and losses like a "normal" fan, but it seems to me that the definition of "normal" has changed over the years.

I talked to one seemingly normal fan the other day that got so upset when the Brewers left runners in scoring position in the third inning of a recent game that he turned off his TV in disgust.

Now, it's OK to be nervous and emotional when watching your favorite team. But, you waited 26 years for meaningful baseball in September and you can't watch? Great move, Einstein.

Then, there was the guy who told me that he was pulling for the Brewers to miss the playoffs because he can't stand manager Ned Yost and wants him fired.

This guy listed 15 games that he felt Yost torpedoed with rock-headed decisions about pulling starters, leaving starters in too long, bringing in Eric Gagne and starting Bill Hall over Craig Counsell and Mat Gamel.

I asked him if he had enjoyed watching the Brewers the past five months. I asked for his top five favorite moments. He thought about it for a moment, mentioned a few exciting games he had watched or attended, including one that Gabe Kapler won with a walk-off homer, and then said "I'd have enjoyed this season more if it wasn't for Ned."

That pretty much ended any chance for a rational conversation.

But, I wondered how that fan -- and many like him -- will react if the Brewers actually do clinch a playoff berth.

Will he feel unbridled joy?

Will he dance in the streets and high-five total strangers?

Or, will he rush to be the first on his block to predict imminent doom in the form of a first-round three-and-out?

Will he and other fans let bitterness overshadow the thrill of the moment, like a lottery winner who complains about paying taxes on his winnings?

Speaking of bitterness ...

The subject of fan booing came up yesterday when Tom Haudricourt of the Journal Sentinel reported some comments from Brewers rightfielder Corey Hart.

Asked about playing in front of Phillies fans on Thursday night, Hart said: "Actually, it felt more like a home game than playing in Miller Park. We didn't hear the boos that we sometimes hear at home. ... A guy makes an error, a guy strikes out, and you hear your hometown booing you. It makes you ready to get out of there and go somewhere else for a while. I think we're all looser here."

Those comments sparked a whole lot of bitterness.

Not surprisingly, many fans were stunned and outraged by Hart's comments. They called him a whiner and told him to grow up. They called him ungrateful for the fans that voted him onto the final spot on the National League all-star roster. They told him to shut up and hit.

On the message boards and talk shows, some people stood up for Hart and called into question the actions of some fans that enter games with a predisposition to boo.

"The 15,000 new fans are ruining it," one e-mailer said. (Who could have imagined that a meltdown by the Brewers on the field would lead to a civil war among fans?)

A handful of people asked what I thought about Hart's comments.

Were they out of line? A bit, perhaps. The Brewers have gotten plenty of cheers this year, too.

Was his timing less than impeccable? Definitely.

Do most of his teammates agree with him? I bet they do, though most would probably avoid saying as much to a reporter.

Players don't experience baseball in the same manner as fans. Fans can obsess about lost games, bad plays or hideous at-bats. Players don't have that luxury. To play baseball in the major leagues, one must deal with failure on a regular basis. The best hitters fail 70 percent of the time, for crying out loud. If players reacted to adversity the way fans do, they'd either be paralyzed or institutionalized. 

Now, I could do another whole column and maybe even a book about how fan behavior has evolved over the years. Free agency and the salary gap between players and fans have combined to widen the gulf between the field and the stands. Blind allegiance to a team has been replaced in most corners by healthy (and sometimes unhealthy) skepticism and a sense of self-entitlement. ("I paid good money for this seat; how dare you not play well when I'm here?")

Decorum at ballparks is dicey at best. Fans are not reluctant to boo and criticize, which is their right, but they often do it in an attention-grabbing and often profane manner (call me old-fashioned, but that still bothers me when women and children are around).

My radio colleague Steve "The Homer" True calls it "Reality TV."

"The fans think they are part of the show," he says. "They'll boo anybody at any time. They're saying ‘Look at me.' They love booing, but the key thing is that when something good happens, they'll still be cheering."

I'm trying to remember if fans booed the 1982 Brewers, who came perilously close to blowing a huge division lead in the final three weeks of the regular season. I don't remember that. All we remember now are the good times. Maybe that will be the case when we look back on 2008. Maybe we'll look back at it as one of the most profound choke-jobs in local sports history.

Right now, it's too close to call.

The calendar is on the Brewers' side. If they can win eight or nine of their last 15 games, I think they'll make the playoffs.

If they don't, Yost will likely be fired and people will have plenty of reasons to be angry and bitter.

In the meantime, my advice is to hang on to that harness (and your hat) and get ready for an unforgettable ride. You've been waiting in line for 26 years. It would be a shame not to enjoy the best part.