When I was growing up in Wisconsin, it wasn’t a tailgate unless there were beer brats. Sure, there were often burgers and salads, but the brats? That’s what made it a Wisconsin tailgate. It didn’t even matter what sport you were going to see. The point was to flip open the trunk, set up some folding chairs, and eat picnic-style food off of paper plates on our laps in a parking lot full of other people doing the same thing. It was really a community experience.