It was take-your-breath-away hot in Milwaukee yesterday. So along with Diddy we did the only logical thing: have an enormous hamburger and some custard at Kopp’s — believed by us to be the largest free-standing restaurant in the world that has no place to sit inside — and then head to the beach. On our way to that beach, we passed McKinley Marina. Diddy said to us, “I think this is the place where Latrell Sprewell used to have his yacht.” So we snapped a picture in case he was, indeed, correct about that being the former home of Milwaukee’s Best and therefore a piece of Minnesota sports history. Turns out he was. In case you forgot the story.

The beach was glorious, even if the shore water is laden with seaweed. We never even made it to the brewery tour, though hopefully that will happen today when Taco joins us to make this a three-man trip for the final two games of the series. We arrived at Game 1 around 5:45 with a sack full of subs and a cooler full of beverages (it was decided that grilling when it was 90 degrees out wasn’t the thing to do. Kudos to Diddy’s friend Luke for that bit of quick thinking). The game itself was pretty standard fare, really: three hits by Carlos Gomez in the first three innings, no hits at all for Joe Mauer, an excruciating five innings but a victory nonetheless for Francisco Liriano and, of course, the sausage race (pictured). There are now five sausages racing. We think that’s too many. At least the roof was open, a rarity we’re told (and another good argument against a blasted roof. Let us reiterate we are very glad Target Field is outdoor-only). As Joe Nathan pitched the ninth, we sat in our 7th-inning “upgraded” seats along the third base line, and the vocal Twins fans started cheering full-throat. By that point, with a 7-3 lead and the beastly heat still bearing down, the crowd seemed 50/50 Brewers and Twins fans. Of course, the folks who were sitting next to us and left AFTER THE SECOND INNING didn’t really know any of this. In fact, one member of that party pretty much started talking about leaving before she even sat down. Sorry if the baseball got in the way of your good time, ma’am.

Post-game: Diddy said we had to go to the Safe House, a spy-themed place downtown. We’d heard about it many times — you need a password to get in. While we were fairly sure we knew the password, we figured we would be a good sport and go through the hazing bestowed upon first-time visitors. In this case, we had to work a hula hoop for 10 seconds while everyone inside the bar watched on a closed-circuit monitor. Believe us: we’ve been far more embarrassed than that. The bar itself is full of interesting little nooks and gimmicks. The best part, though, is the Magic Bar, where a bartender performs fabulous tricks. Seriously: Michael Cuddyer needs to know about this place, and fast. The bartender has been practicing magic for 30 years and performs regularly aside from his bar gig. He turned our queen of diamonds into a nine of diamonds. He pulled our $20 bill out of a lemon. We will say no more.

Today: a quick workout, picking up Taco in a little less than two hours, followed by more artery-clogging food and drinks. That really seems to be this town’s specialty.

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