Beer. Football. And a rivalry soaked in both. Few things embody Midwestern pride as completely as the battleground between Iowa and Wisconsin—a century-old clash fueled by barley, passion, and generations of fans who treat game day like both religion and reunion. But here's where it gets intriguing: this rivalry doesn’t thrive on hatred like some do; it’s built on shared identity, tradition, and perhaps most surprisingly, mutual admiration seasoned with just enough friendly fire to keep things spicy.
The Long Road Between Beers and Borders
Before Highway 151 grew into the four-lane artery connecting these two football powerhouses, team buses rattled along narrow roads through sleepy towns straddling the Mississippi. Each trip was a ritual. Every other year, the Hawkeyes made their dinner stop in Dubuque—Iowa’s bridge city—before crossing into Wisconsin for the final stretch. At Dickeyville’s once-famous Squirrel’s Nest bar, locals would gather with pints in hand, half-cheering, half-jeering, as they waited for the Iowa team buses to pass under the stoplight. Horns blared, hands waved, and occasionally, rebellious fans offered a full moon salute to the Badger faithful.
That raucous little bar is long gone, but its spirit lives on. Its story marks a time when beer and football became inseparable parts of Midwestern DNA—especially along what locals proudly call the region’s “beer highway.”
Where Beer Built the Midwest
It all started in the mid-1800s when waves of German immigrants settled across eastern Iowa and Wisconsin. They brought with them a love of beer and the knowledge to brew it. With endless grain fields, freshwater streams, and a culture built around craftsmanship and endurance, the region soon became a brewer’s paradise. When football arrived in the 1890s, it fit perfectly into that mix—a game of grit for a people who valued hard work and solidarity. Suddenly, Saturdays were for both foam and football.
Unlike other rivalries thick with animosity, Iowa-Wisconsin has always felt like a clash between cousins. Sure, they’ll jab at each other, but beneath the jokes lies deep respect. Between them, they’ve dominated the Big Ten West for decades—reaching seven conference championship games in ten years and amassing a combined 20 ten-win seasons since 1998. Both schools once tried to move the matchup off the annual calendar, only for fans and administrators alike to fight to bring it back. Because for the Hawkeyes and Badgers, this game isn’t just a date—it’s a ritual.
Dubuque: A Foamy Epicenter
At the crossroads of Iowa, Illinois, and Wisconsin, Dubuque stands as the heart of this beer highway. With steep bluffs and fall colors that mimic New England’s landscapes, Dubuque is Iowa’s oldest city and one of the most scenic in the Midwest. Founded on mining but sustained by community, it carries the heritage of both beer and football proudly. Long before craft brewing became cool, this city was known for its beer-soaked taverns and working-class camaraderie.
Retired sportswriter Marc Morehouse, a Dubuque native, puts it best: “Beer is community.” And here, community means rivalry mixed with respect. He recalls an era when both Iowa and Wisconsin struggled, leaving Dubuque fans divided yet equally hopeful. “We’re all from the same cloth,” he joked, “but when one team pulls ahead, it feels like sibling jealousy. Wisconsin gets a little flashier sometimes, and we notice.”
Dubuque’s old factories and breweries still echo that tradition. The historic Dubuque Star Brewery, opened in 1899, now houses shops and a beer museum while continuing to pour its classic recipes. Just blocks away, Dimensional Brewing keeps the craft flame alive, honoring the town’s brewing legacy with modern twists. Co-founder Joe Specht proudly claims Iowa beers can rival any in America—even Wisconsin’s. Provocative words in Badger country, wouldn’t you say?
Off the Main Route
Venture a bit off Highway 151 and you’ll find two towns defining the rivalry’s opposite poles: New Glarus, Wisconsin, and Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
New Glarus looks like a picture postcard—a Swiss-inspired village with cobblestone streets and chalet rooftops. But don’t be fooled by its charm; it’s home to one of the most beloved breweries in the nation. Founded in 1993 by Deb and Dan Carey, New Glarus Brewing achieved cult status with its wildly popular Spotted Cow—a farmhouse ale that’s only sold in Wisconsin. Fans from neighboring states make pilgrimages just to smuggle a six-pack home. Some even risked criminal charges, as one Minnesota bar found out the hard way.
Deb Carey dreamed up the beer’s name after spotting black-and-white Holsteins on a drive, sketching its now-iconic label on a napkin. Her husband Dan turned that sketch into a masterpiece—a blend of old-world brewing and new-world craft precision. The result? Wisconsin’s second-best-selling beer, only behind Miller Lite, and a state symbol almost as sacred as cheese curds.
On the Iowa side, Cedar Rapids mirrors that same spirit through its industrial charm. The air often smells faintly of cereals from the Quaker Oats mill, and beer has long run through its veins. In the 1800s, Czech and German immigrants hid beer in underground caves during Prohibition—a rebellious act that helped define the city’s blue-collar pride. Today, Lion Bridge Brewing Company carries that legacy forward, serving beers like Yield of Dreams and Oktobot 3000, each crafted as a tribute to Iowa’s agricultural and European roots.
Where Team Spirit Meets Taproom Culture
It’s no coincidence that both the University of Iowa and the University of Wisconsin have reputations for legendary campus nightlife. From Madison’s State Street to Iowa City’s Ped Mall, college bars hum with anticipation on game weekends. Jordan’s Big 10 Pub in Madison, with its massive beer garden and roaring fans dressed head to toe in red, feels like a pilgrimage site for Badger devotees. Two hours west, Big Grove Brewery in Iowa City mirrors that same energy—but with black and gold. During football weekends, it becomes a friendly battleground where rivals share beers instead of blows.
Bartenders on both sides say the same thing: rivalry here doesn’t breed hostility; it breeds community. As Big Grove’s Amber Thoma puts it, “It’s all friendly fire.”
The Road Tells the Story
Driving Highway 151 today is like tracing the veins of the Midwest itself—fields stretching endlessly, barns faded with pride, and every small town holding a story worth hearing. It’s not just a road; it’s a living timeline of how beer, football, and community built their own kind of folklore.
When Iowa and Wisconsin meet for the Heartland Trophy—an 80-pound bronze bull—it’s more than just a game. It’s a cultural exchange celebrated in hops and cheers. Both programs reflect the region’s blue-collar resilience: never flashy, always competitive, and built on tradition.
So, next time you find yourself on that stretch between Iowa City and Madison, raise a cold one to the legends who turned a simple drive into a heritage worth celebrating. Because on this beer highway, the spirit of the Midwest isn’t something you just watch—it’s something you taste.
And here’s the real question: is beer the reason this rivalry feels more like a family reunion than a grudge match? Or have Iowans and Wisconsinites simply mastered the art of mixing passion with a pint? What do you think?
