LONDON — A man arrested on suspicion of manslaughter following the death of ice hockey player Adam Johnson has been told he will not face charges, British prosecutors said Tuesday.

Johnson played for the Nottingham Panthers and died shortly after his neck had been sliced in a collision with Sheffield Steelers defenseman Matt Petgrave during a game on Oct. 28, 2023.

A man was arrested two weeks later and though South Yorkshire Police has not publicly identified him, Petgrave himself said in a crowdfunding appeal for legal fees that he’s the subject of a police investigation.

On Tuesday, the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) decided it would not bring criminal charges against the man arrested following what it described as “a shocking and deeply upsetting incident.”

“The CPS and South Yorkshire Police have worked closely together to determine whether any criminal charges should be brought against the other ice hockey player involved,” Deputy Chief Crown Prosecutor Michael Quinn said.

“Following a thorough police investigation and a comprehensive review of all the evidence by the CPS, we have concluded that there is not a realistic prospect of conviction for any criminal offense and so there will not be a prosecution. Our thoughts remain with the family and friends of Adam Johnson.”

After his arrest, Petgrave had been re-bailed several times while the investigation took place.

Johnson had skated with the puck into Sheffield’s defensive zone when Petgrave collided with another Panthers player nearby. Petgrave’s left skate elevated as he began to fall and the blade hit Johnson in the neck.

The native of Hibbing, Minnesota, was pronounced dead at a nearby hospital. The death of the 29-year-old former Pittsburgh Penguins player sparked debate across the sport about improving safety for players.

Petgrave, a 32-year-old Canadian, had support from some of Johnson’s teammates. Victor Björkung had told a Swedish newspaper there “isn’t a chance that it’s deliberate.” Björkung had played the pass to Johnson and said he was traumatized by what he saw. He left the team as a result.

Johnson was in his first season at Nottingham — one of the “import” players in the Elite Ice Hockey League — after stints in Germany and a handful of games for the Penguins in the 2018-19 and 2019-20 seasons.

Johnson was living with fiancée Ryan Wolfe and studying at Loughborough Business School.

The English Ice Hockey Association, which governs the sport below the Elite League, reacted to Johnson’s death by requiring all players in England to wear neck guards from the start of 2024.

For a specific generation of Koreans, playing the harmonica is a reminder of their youth and their home — whereas not playing the harmonica for decades reminds them of what they left behind to pursue something more.

This includes Donna Lee. Now that she’s 80 years old, Lee can look back on a life growing up in Seoul, where she played the harmonica as a child in music class. She immigrated to the United States, and that led her to Southern California. She found a place in Koreatown, near downtown Los Angeles, where she still lives to this day, and worked at a local hospital for nearly 30 years before retiring.

Retiring left her bored and wanting more. That drew her to the Koreatown Senior and Community Center of Los Angeles. The center offered Lee and many of her compatriots a chance to take classes and enjoy the life they worked so hard to create. Then, in 2023, Lee joined the center’s harmonica class, in which she and her classmates repeatedly practiced “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

“We have a weekly practice that’s one or two hours,” Lee said. “We’ve done it almost every week and have played it so many times I can’t count.”

With Los Angeles having the largest Korean community in the nation, the class was asked to perform at various events throughout the area. In January, the Los Angeles Kings reached out to the KSCC and invited the harmonica class to perform in March as part of the team’s Korean heritage night.

The response they received was so strong that they were invited to perform the national anthem before Game 1 of the Kings’ first-round Western Conference series against the Edmonton Oilers on April 21. Lee and 12 of her classmates donning hanbok — which is traditional Korean clothing — performed the national anthem and immediately went viral in a game the Kings won.

🎶Harmonicas heard ’round the world 🎶

📲 https://t.co/GBuBWqCo9w#GoKingsGo pic.twitter.com/EobOzy8HKi

— x – LA Kings (@LAKings) April 22, 2025

The performance was so popular that it led to the group being invited to perform at Game 2, which not only saw them gain more fans, but the Kings also won to take a 2-0 series lead. Since then? They’ve turned into a sensation that has not only caught the attention of the hockey world and Southern California, but it’s even getting attention in South Korea.

“I could have never imagined that this would happen,” Lee said.

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IN THE SPAN of two years, the KSCC’s harmonica class went from only playing the national anthem in a classroom to performing in front of 18,000 fans on heritage night.

That was already the experience of a lifetime. But to receive an invite to perform at a Stanley Cup playoff game? Not only once, but twice? And to have nearly everyone in the building sing with their performance, and have social media go into a frenzy, with fans asking that they return for every home game?

It’s the sort of encounter that goes well beyond hockey, treading into a place that is deeper and more meaningful for Kwan-Il Park, a retired political journalist in South Korea who is now the KSCC’s executive director.

“There hasn’t been that many chances where the Korean community and the mainstream community was able to come together in this way,” Park said through Sandra Choi, who serves as an interpreter and is also a volunteer at the KSCC. “The key point in this is that the harmonica is not an expensive instrument. It’s $15 or $20 and it’s an everyday instrument for everybody.”

Park said the fact that the class was able to perform the national anthem with an instrument that is so universal created a moment that saw them feel immersed in their culture, while also paying homage to a place they’ve now called home for many years.

“We’ve always been perceived to be outsiders, immigrants with cultural barriers and language barriers,” Park said. “You come here, work straight for 30 or 40 years. This time, we were able to stand shoulder-to-shoulder as a Korean American and not just as an immigrant and to perform in front of 20,000 people? I don’t even know what the right word is for that.”

Park said Koreans first began immigrating to the U.S. in 1903, with many coming to cities along the Pacific Ocean. After the Korean War in the 1950s, there would be a second wave that contributed to the current landscape in which nearly 2 million Koreans live in the U.S.

Although Chicago, New York City and Washington D.C. have sizable Korean communities, Los Angeles has the largest, with 17% of all people of Korean descent in America living there, according to the Pew Research Center.

But what makes playing the national anthem on a harmonica so special? It’s because of how the instrument ties a life they once knew with the one they came to build for themselves and future generations.

KSCC chairperson Yong-Sin Shin said a certain generation of children growing up in South Korea were introduced to the harmonica in second grade as part of music class. While those children had a chance to play for a few more years, many of them stopped playing after immigrating to the U.S.

For the group at the KSCC, the harmonica connected them to those times.

Choi said that for many older Koreans, playing the harmonica was a chance for them to relax, which was something that often wasn’t afforded to a group that spent many of their years working to take care of their families.

“We would find a harmonica in my house because my dad had one,” Choi said. “If he plays it, it somehow rings a soul of my childhood as a Korean American. Even though I’m not from Korea, it has kind of a tie to all of us with the tone and the songs that we play on it.”

Shin said the KSCC was founded with the intent that older generations of Koreans could find community while providing them classes to fulfill them in their later years.

At first, the KSCC offered five classes per week. Since then, the center has expanded its offerings to 47 classes every Monday through Friday. Shin said the center attracts nearly 1,500 people per week.

Those classes range from developing skills that can be used in daily life to subjects that are meant as a hobby. For example, the KSCC offers multiple classes for those interested in improving their oral and written skills in English. They also provide beginner- and intermediate-level classes for those who want to learn how to use a smartphone.

Yet the crown jewel of the KSCC curriculum? It might be the 11:10 a.m. Wednesday harmonica class that lasts for 50 minutes.

Shin said the harmonica class started in 2021. The class started off by practicing for weeks at a time before they felt comfortable performing in public. Shin said the class would perform at events such as Mother’s Day, Thanksgiving or Seollal, which is Korean Lunar New Year in February. The profile of the class began to grow when the group was invited to perform at Los Angeles City Hall in 2023.

“Our senior harmonica class performed in front of 100 people and everybody liked it,” Shin said. “So, we continued to perform at our events at the senior center and they got better and better, and we started to get more invitations to play the harmonica.”

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THERE’S A POINT that Park, Shin and Choi, even speaking outside of her role as an interpreter, all get across when it comes to the performance of the harmonica class and the popularity it achieved in such a short window.

Nobody saw this coming.

“I have a child in high school, and she even showed me the clip because it was so viral,” Choi said. “She said, ‘Isn’t this where we volunteer?'”

Part of the reason for that surprise can be measured through social media. It’s not easy to find a video of the group’s first performance for the Kings, probably because it was a regular-season game.

Compare that to the playoffs, when the anthem was televised nationally in North America.

Granted, anthem singers are no strangers to attention. But when it’s around a dozen Korean senior citizens performing — with harmonicas? Something that distinctive was bound to attract attention inside and outside the sport.

And it did, resulting in the group being invited back for Game 2, but this time instead of wearing traditional Korean clothing, they were decked out in Kings jerseys — while also having even more expectations now that the masses knew what was coming.

Their performances have led to people posting comments on social media that range from “Oilers comeback bid was cool but you ain’t beating the Kings in the house that the Korean Harmonica Grannies built” to an Oilers fan asking, “Does anyone in the Edmonton Korean Community play Harmonica? We need to fight fire with fire here.”

“We were not nervous,” Lee said of herself and her classmates. “It was my first time going to the arena because of the performance. So many people were surprised, and we just enjoyed the wonderful arena. It was a big place with a lot of people. We thought the performance was good and we just did a lot of preparing and practicing for the national anthem.”

Lee said she had never watched a Kings game but made a point to stay for Game 1 and immediately became a fan. She said there were some members of the class who stayed and others who went home.

But now?

“We’re all L.A. Kings fans now!” she said with a laugh.

Lee and Park said they have heard from family and friends in South Korea about how their performance has made headlines there. This is another detail nobody saw coming, but it adds to the visibility of Korean culture.

The Kings joined the Lakers, Dodgers and Clippers in having a Korean heritage night. Both the Rams and Chargers have also promoted initiatives during Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) Month.

It’s also coming at a time when more Korean food, film, music and television hold a place in the mainstream.

“We have K-pop, K-drama, K-food, K-beauty — and now we have K-seniors,” Lee said.

Thirty years ago, the New York Mets and Colorado Rockies opened Coors Field on April 26,1995 in a game that would embody the beauty (if you’re a hitter) and absurdity (if you’re a pitcher) of the ballpark, when they combined for 20 runs and 33 hits in an 11-9, 14-inning Colorado win. It was just the beginning of a baseball experience like no other.

Standing 5,280 feet above sea level in Denver’s LoDo neighborhood, the picturesque ballpark is one of the sport’s gems, constantly ranking near the top of MLB stadium rankings and keeping the Rockies’ attendance among the league’s highest regardless of the home team’s record.

“Since 1995 I’ve been at nearly 95% of the games played at Coors Field,” owner Dick Monfort told ESPN last week. “Of all those thousands of games, my fondest memories are of a sold-out ballpark on an 85-degree day with no humidity, a beautiful sunset, and 50,000 men, women and kids soaking in the timeless magic of iconic Coors Field.”

But for the pitchers who have taken the mound at the stadium over the past three decades, Coors Field is something else: a house of horrors.

‘S—, the whole time there was a horror story, man,” said Marvin Freeman, who started 41 games for the Rockies over the first two years of the ballpark. “We called it arena baseball. It was like a pinball machine up in there sometimes. Balls were flying out of there. And you just had to make sure when you did leave Colorado you maintained some sanity because it could be hard on your mentality.”

To commemorate the anniversary of a launching pad like no other, we asked those who have pitched or taken the field at a place where breaking balls don’t break and a mistake left over the plate can travel 500 feet into the mountain air to share their best (er, worst) Coors Field horror stories.

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A big swing haunts you: ‘It’s all part of the Coors experience’

On May 28, 2016, Carlos Estevez was less than a month into his major league career when he entered in the eighth inning against the San Francisco Giants with a daunting task: facing a future Hall of Famer in a one-run game.

Before Buster Posey stepped into the batter’s box, Estevez’s Colorado coaches and teammates gave the reliever some advice on how to approach the situation.

“I remember throwing a fastball away,” Estevez recently recalled to ESPN. “He could crush pitches close to him. ‘Stay safe. Go away. He’s going to single to right field, worst-case scenario.’ I’m new. The new guy was showing up.”

When Posey connected on a 96 mph fastball on the outer half of the plate with a 2-0 count, it momentarily appeared to Estevez that following the advice had paid off.

“I go [points in the air like pitchers do for popups]. It was one of those. The ball goes out. I didn’t even look anywhere else. I just kept my face down,” Estevez said. “Oh my god. That was so bad. After that, never again — unless I knew the ball was right on top of me. Man, that was bad. I felt so bad. The older guys, of course, made so much fun of me with that. Like, bro, you don’t know where you’re pitching.”

If Estevez can take solace in anything from that day, it is that his experience mirrors that of pitchers throughout the sport — just ask Ubaldo Jiménez, who had a run of stardom for the Rockies until being traded in 2011. “We were like, you can never point up, you can never think it is a fly ball, because it’s probably going to go out.”

Jerry Dipoto, Rockies reliever (1997-2000) and current Mariners general manager: I saw some of the longest home runs that a human can possibly hit. At the height of Mark McGwire, I watched him literally hit one over the scoreboard, which, if you have a chance and you stand at home plate, look at the left-field scoreboard, the Coke bottle that used to run alongside the scoreboard. He hit it over the Coke bottle, into the parking lot, through the windshield of Jerry McMorris, our owner, which was awesome.

Andrés Galarraga and Mike Piazza hit home runs over the center-field fence, over the forest in the rock waterfall up there, and up into the concourse that has like a 20-foot opening, looks like something out of “Star Wars,” and they were both line-drive missiles that probably only stopped because they hit something out in the concourse.

Ryne Nelson, opposing pitcher: I haven’t pitched there a ton, but C.J. Cron hit a ball that felt like it was 10 feet off the ground the whole way and it left the yard. So I’m not sure if it would’ve been a home run everywhere, but it was one of the more impressive home runs that I’ve given up.

Dipoto: I can remember giving up a homer to Henry Rodriguez to left field, one year when he was at the height of hitting homers. It was like a broken-bat, end-of-the-bat, oppo, what I thought was just a floater. It wound up in the wheelchair section out there.

Jeremy Guthrie, Rockies starter (2012): I was facing the Oakland Athletics. And they hit at least two, maybe three, upper-deck home runs. I was not under the impression they weren’t going to go out. Seeing balls go further and further and fans boo louder and louder, though — it’s all part of the Coors experience.

Dipoto: They had a row of seats in the upper deck in right field that was like a ring around the upper-deck seats, and it was a mile above sea level. An absurd distance beyond home plate.

I remember I had a really difficult time through the years with Ray Lankford. And Jeff Reed was catching me one day and I’m trying to get fastballs by Ray Lankford and I can’t get anything past him. It’s foul ball, foul ball, it feels like a 10-pitch AB. And he comes walking out. And every day in spring training, in my catch game, I’d throw a changeup. I didn’t actually have one or throw it in a game. It was just something to try to get some feel. Reeder came to the mound and said, “Hey, what do you think about just throwing that changeup?” I said, “I’ve never done it in a game, Reeder.”

He said, “Yeah, if you’ve never done it in a game, he won’t be expecting it either.” So I threw a changeup, and I actually threw it for a strike, and he hit it above the purple seats. It wound up going a mile. Like literally going a mile.

Tyler Anderson, Rockies starter (2016-19) and current Angels pitcher: My rookie year when I was called up … I remember there was a runner on first and two outs, which usually you feel pretty safe.

[Evan Longoria] hit like a line drive that got past the second baseman, where normally you’re like, “All right, there’s runners on first and third now.” And it just like rolled all the way to the wall. He got a triple and the runner scored from first. And I remember thinking to myself, How the heck is that a triple? Obviously I was pretty young in my pitching career, but I pitched a lot in college and the minor leagues, and that was never a triple. That was crazy. I remembered that. And I always thought pitching in Coors Field, it doesn’t matter if there’s only a runner on first, you’re never safe. Two outs, runner on first sometimes could feel safe, but it’s never safe.

Freeman: I always liked to say that every bad game that I had at Coors Field was because of Coors Field, not me. I usually fall back on that. But I do remember one particular case where I made it into the ninth inning, my son was going to be born the next day, and I was actually on the mound thinking about pitching my first complete game.

I ended up giving up a home run to Hal Morris. He hit an opposite-field home run on me. And Ellis Burks, I thought he was going to jump the fence and bring it back, but he didn’t catch it. And then I end up getting knocked out of the game in the ninth inning, and we subsequently end up losing that game, and my son was born the next day. That’s really the only game that sticks out to me … you gotta try and survive the next one.

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ERAs turn into a scary sight: ‘That place is a nightmare’

Late in the 2023 season, then-Minnesota Twins reliever Caleb Thielbar boarded the plane to Colorado with something treasured by pitchers everywhere — an ERA starting with a 2.

With the Twins trailing 6-4 in the series opener, Thielbar was summoned from the bullpen to face Rockies star Charlie Blackmon. Thielbar retired the Colorado outfielder and left the outing with his sub-3.00 ERA still intact.

But the next day, with the Twins ahead 14-0, Thielbar entered the game in the bottom of the seventh inning — and his ERA wasn’t so lucky that time.

“It was my last outing of the year and I gave up back-to-back homers,” Thielbar told ESPN earlier this month. “And it bumped my ERA up over 3.00. And just one of those things that makes you mad and it stuck with me for a little bit.

“I don’t understand how to pitch there. For some reason, the Rockies have always kind of gotten me — no matter home or away — so they really got me there. But that place is a nightmare.”

Even though the back-to-back home runs hit by Colorado’s Elehuris Montero and Sean Bouchard pushed Thielbar’s ERA from 2.67 to a season-ending 3.23 mark, you’ll have to excuse some other pitchers who might not feel too badly for someone whose Coors Field horror story only involves allowing two runs.

Guthrie: I don’t know that I had any good outing at Coors. I know my ERA was 9.50 [at Coors] and 3.67 on the road that year. I really did want to pitch well there. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. I went in with high hopes and a positive attitude. There aren’t as many people who go in with a good attitude as you hope. I really felt like the organization treated pitchers, and especially new pitchers, in a way where it’s almost inevitable you’re going to struggle. You need to change the way you prepare. You need to be aware of how your body is going to react at high altitude. Nothing felt different physically. I just pitched a lot worse.

Among the 223 pitchers with at least 40 innings at Coors, Guthrie’s 9.50 ERA is second worst, ahead of only Bryan Rekar, who posted a 10.16.

Walker Buehler, opposing pitcher: If you’re a starting pitcher and you normally go six, seven innings — going five innings there is some sort of accomplishment. I think honestly the toughest part from our side of it is not necessarily the home run, which a lot of people think it is. The field is so big. You give up a lot of hits you normally don’t give up.

On June 27, 2019, Buehler gave up 13 hits over 5⅔ innings at Coors, although the Dodgers won the game 12-8. Buehler gave up seven of the eight runs and his ERA rose from 2.96 to 3.43.

Honestly, it’s probably a top-five ballpark in baseball, but I just don’t think our game should be played at that kind of elevation. It legitimately changes the game. It’s just different. I don’t know if there’s some sort of f—ing dome vacuum technology thing we can get going there or what.

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The scoreboard becomes a horror show: ‘Every game there is like a football game’

Sometimes it doesn’t matter who is on the mound at Coors Field, especially in the summer months when the days get warmer and the Rocky Mountain air gets even drier. An entire pitching staff can leave the ballpark with a battered ERA.

In fact, teams have averaged at least five runs per game at Coors Field in every season it has existed. Over that span, there were just three seasons since 1995 when the MLB average was 5.0 runs per game or more (1996, 1999 & 2000).

Even in the ballpark’s long history of scores that look like they belong in a football game, four-hour marathons of runners touching home plate and double-digit rallies, one series stands out from the crowd. Over four days on Father’s Day weekend of 2019, the Rockies and Padres combined to score 92 runs, setting a modern record for runs in a four-game series by surpassing a total set by the Philadelphia Phillies and Brooklyn Dodgers … in 1929.

“Every game was like 15 to 14 or something like that. We would take the lead and then they would take the lead and then they would take the lead back,” recalled Trevor Story, the Rockies’ shortstop from 2016 to 2021 and a current Red Sox infielder. “It was just back and forth the whole way. Every game of the series was this way, so it was just mentally exhausting. You felt like whoever hit last was going to win. I think we lost a series and it ended up, it was just kind of deflating because we put up all those runs. That series sticks out to me.”

The teams scored in double digits five times, six runs were the fewest for either team in any game, and the Padres’ team ERA jumped from 4.23 to 4.65 while the Rockies’ rose from 4.97 to 5.29.

“My god, that series against the Padres. PTSD still. Between both teams, we scored 92 runs in a four-game series. It was miserable,” Estevez said. “That series just ran through everyone. Everyone gave up runs. [Fernando] Tatis had an amazing series. I don’t know what he didn’t do. I mean, he didn’t pitch.”

While not every series is quite that extreme, almost anyone who has spent enough time at Coors Field has a similar story to tell.

Ryan Spilborghs, Rockies outfielder, 2005-11: One of my favorite memories of Coors Field was against the Cardinals. We were down 7-1 in the bottom of the ninth inning, and we ended up walking off the Cardinals. The best part of it was Tony La Russa. Threw his hat and broke his glasses. And so the next day, it was a Sunday and they didn’t have time to get his glasses fixed so you could see him. He got them taped. Looked like the Poindexter glasses. So we’re just loving it. We’re like, “Hey, we broke La Russa’s glasses.”

Bruce Bochy, opposing manager: We had a game in which Bob Tewksbury started great, six or seven good innings. I had to take him out when we were ahead 9-2, and Willie Blair went in and we lost 13-12.

Dan O’Dowd, Rockies general manager, 1999-2014: You’d give up five or six runs, and you’d be like — ah, no problem. You never felt like you were out of it.

Clint Hurdle, Colorado Rockies manager, 2002-09, and current hitting coach: It’s almost like when we were playing street basketball. You get your two teams together. Last bucket wins, right? That’s what I realized early on. But it was going to be a blessing and a curse because your position players actually started believing we’re never out of it.

Jack Corrigan, Rockies radio broadcaster: Even with the humidor and everything else, the outfield’s the biggest in baseball, the wind — I think sometimes that’s why it’s a great place to watch a game. The Rockies might be a bad team that particular year or whatever, but it might be a heck of a game.

Trevor Hoffman, opposing pitcher: Every game there is like a football game. The offense always has a chance. I cannot imagine playing 81 games a year like that.

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The altitude goes to your head: ‘This is not baseball’

Jim Leyland took the job as Rockies manager in 1999 coming off a sustained run of success in Pittsburgh and Miami — and lasted only a year. Buck Showalter managed the opposing Diamondbacks in one of Leyland’s final games in Colorado, and after the game, Leyland told him he was finished. “He said, ‘I’m out of here. You can’t win here.’ He was done,” Showalter recalled over the weekend. “He said, ‘I love the game, I want to manage baseball. This is not baseball.'”

Near the end of that season, Leyland turned to then-first-year general manager Dan O’Dowd and said, “Do you have any f—ing idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

O’Dowd stayed with the organization through the 2014 season and was constantly racking his brain for ways to manage the unusual circumstances in Colorado.

With the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, he says he would try the model that the Rays use: build around player development, and then, when young players are at their peak trade value, flip them for a big return. “I’d have waves and waves of depth — power arms, strike throwers and athletic guys.”

Showalter was heavily involved in the planning and building of another expansion team of that era, the Arizona Diamondbacks, and wonders how the pitcher-centric approach would work sustainably at Coors Field. If you were running the Rockies, he said, “You’d have to develop your own pitchers. You’d take pitchers in all 20 rounds. You’d have to be three layers deep.”

The longtime manager also noticed during his time competing against the Rockies that there was always some new idea on how to conquer Coors Field.

“It seems like everybody has had some magic potion [to deal with the elevation], but none of them worked,” Showalter said. “It wore on you physically to play games there.

“What they should do is put a 40-foot-high jai alai wall and play it off the fence, and use four outfielders.”

O’Dowd’s attempts to reinvent baseball at altitude were never that extreme, but he did oversee the deployment of the ballpark’s humidor in 2002, and looking back, he “almost wishes I hadn’t.” In some ways, it mitigated the home-field advantage that the Rockies had in the early days of the ballpark — and he believes that in order for the Rockies to have success, they have to thrive at home, because the inherent closer-to-sea-level or at-sea-level conditions in road games will always be a disadvantage for the team.

“We were looking for a way to normalize the game. … In hindsight, it would’ve been better to not have it.”

Bud Black, Rockies manager, 2017-present: Other managers, coaches come to me. I’m sure they came to Baylor. Leyland quit after one year. They say, “How do you do it? How can you hang in there?” I just know that when I was with the Padres and we’d come in, our hitters were like, “Yes!” Our pitchers were like, “Oh, s—.” You can see pitchers visibly rattled.

Freeman: It wasn’t just the Rockies. It was the visitors. Some of them guys that came in, they were coming up with mysterious injuries for three days when they came in for a series with the Rockies, man. I know for a fact some of my Braves buddies used to ask me all the time, “How do you guys survive mentally out here?” We’re like, “We just look forward to going on the road when it’s our time to pitch.”

Bochy: They had one of those smoke shops by the ballpark. I always said they put that there for the managers, to stop there and get something that would get them through the game.

It’s a different game — a totally different game. It’s a beautiful ballpark, with the architecture, the Rockpile, everything they have there. But it changed how you played the game. You had to manage a little bit different, stay with your starting pitchers a little longer because you could really tear up your bullpen over a series.

LaTroy Hawkins, Rockies reliever, 2007, 2014-15: I think because they let the elements intimidate them. They’re mind-f—ed already, before they even get there and before they even take the mound. They’re already mind-f—ed. And that’s not having a positive attitude about the situation. Hey, everybody else pitches in this stadium. Everybody else. I’m going to have to pitch in it too. Let me go in it with a positive mental approach — PMA — a positive mental approach to Coors Field. And that’s how I got through it.

Kyle Freeland, Rockies starter, 2017-present: It is not an easy place to pitch. It comes with its factors with the altitude, the dryness, how hard it is to recover in that environment that guys throughout the rest of the league don’t understand until they come to Coors for a four-game series and they realize their body feels like crap on Day 2, and that’s a big factor.

Shawn Estes, Rockies starter, 2004: You always looked at the calendar when the schedule opened and you knew when you were going to pitch and when you’re not going to pitch. So you know you have three trips into Coors and you have a pretty good idea if you’re going to pitch in any of those series. Put it this way, if you find out you’re not pitching for three games there, it’s probably the best road trip you take of the year.

Dipoto: I remember the first or second year of interleague [games], John Wetteland, who at that time was one of the best closers in the league, comes in and blows a save. He was really fighting himself. And the next day, he comes out and gets ready to walk in from the visitors bullpen and he [knocks] on the cage, and he looks at us all getting ready for the start of the game, and he says, “I have to know, how do you guys do this?” And everybody told him the same thing: “Short memory, man. You just have to move on.”

Ubaldo Jimenez, Rockies starter, 2006-11: Colorado is a different monster than anything else. If you go out there for a couple innings and you start throwing, I don’t know, 20, 25 pitches, you’re probably going to be out of breath right away. If you run to cover first base, when you go back to the mound, you’re going to feel the difference.

I wanted to be out there regardless of how difficult it was. I wanted to be out there for the fans. It made me develop; it made me be a better pitcher because I work hard. I work really hard. I worked so hard, running-wise and conditioning-wise. I remember I used to do the stairs in the stadium, or I used to go to Red Rocks Amphitheatre that’s like 20 minutes away from Denver, like going to the mountains. Rocky is the one who inspired me for sure. Every time I had to run in the mountains, I ran — I just didn’t chase the chicken. Other than that, I did pretty much everything Rocky did just to get ready for Coors Field.

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Your stuff disappears in thin air: ‘They tell you to keep it down, don’t listen’

Pitchers are taught to “trust their stuff” from the time they first pick up a baseball, but at Coors Field, they learn quickly that pitches don’t do what’s expected.

During Dipoto’s four seasons in Colorado, Rockies relievers bonded over the shared experience of sitting beyond the outfield walls while waiting to go in and find out how their stuff would fare on a given night.

“There’s a storage room in the back of the bullpen at Coors Field, where during the course of a game — because you’re so far out, I mean, it’s the biggest field in the league — we would sit because we had a small TV at that time that would allow us to see what was happening in the game. … There’s these brick walls, painted brick walls. Every reliever had his own brick, and you got to write a message to all the relievers that came after you. It was related to the ballpark, some of the challenges. It was almost like a yearbook, but it was, in theory, preserved forever because it was on a brick wall.

“The trick was you weren’t allowed to have a brick until you gave up four runs in an inning. And everybody had a brick. So this was going on for like five years, and everybody who had come and gone had their own brick, even guys who were kind of small-time then. And [general manager] Bob Gebhard walked in one day and saw the messages on the wall and got angry with the relievers for writing on the wall and had the grounds crew paint over it. All of a sudden what was really something special that you could pass along from generation to generation, and mostly just laugh it off, like you have to be able to laugh at that, got covered over.

“My brick was something along the lines of, ‘They tell you to keep it down — don’t listen.’

“I went to Colorado. And the first thing — Billy Swift was one of our starters. And I walked into the clubhouse; we shared an agent. Billy shook my hand and he said, ‘Sinkerballer, right?’ And I said ‘yeah.’

“He said ‘Good luck, bro. It doesn’t work.'”

Even when the humidor was added after Dipoto’s time in Colorado, pitchers routinely saw their trusted pitch mixes abandon them at high altitude.

Spilborghs: A couple of years ago, they had to repaint in the bullpen [again], but if you went into the bullpen before, all there, all these great names of pitchers like Huston Street, Tito Fuentes, literally all these great bullpen arms, and they’d have their line — a third of an inning, nine hits, nine runs — written on the wall. Just to prove to you that Coors Field would get everybody.

Estevez: What you’re used to, it doesn’t work up there. If you’re a big sweeper guy, the sweeper doesn’t do anything, it just spins. Guys that are not up there for a long time, they go, like, “Man, my sweeper is off today.”

No, bro, it’s not. It’s just Coors Field. You’re fine. Trust me. That’s the thing. Even your fastball doesn’t ride as much. What plays better over there is changeups. It’s hard to find what truly works over there. For me, you’ve got to find the consistency.

Zack Wheeler, opposing pitcher: I’ve been lucky to miss it a bunch, thankfully. I did get roughed up there early in my career, but you hear about breaking stuff not breaking like it should. The ball flies, of course. When I made the All-Star team in 2021, when the game was there, the bullpen catcher told me to break out my changeup if I had a good one. I didn’t know about that until he told me. So now I tell everyone that I know, “Hey, if you have a good changeup, use it.”

Anderson: The ball flies, your stuff doesn’t move. When you throw two-seams, sometimes they cut. So if you’re a two-seam guy — like you know the seam-shift, right? I think what’s happening with some of these two-seams is they’re a seam-shift to two-seam where the seam catches, then it gets to two-seam. And maybe because the air is thinner it doesn’t have the same catch. So it just cuts instead.

Hoffman: The thing that I remember about pitching in Coors is that you just couldn’t feel the baseball.

The former star reliever tried different methods to get some moisture onto his hands to rub up the ball. Saliva didn’t work, because he would be dried out — it’d be like spitting cotton balls, he said. Remnants from chewing gum could make the surface too tacky.

Hoffman is in the Hall of Fame largely because of the excellence of a straight changeup that he threw — and when he pitched at Coors, it just wasn’t the same changeup.

The velocity was the same, but the pitch just didn’t have the same depth. I threw some good ones, but sometimes the changeup would just sit there, like it was on a tee.

Of course, it was Hoffman’s Padres teammate, Jake Peavy, who took the mound in the most famous game in Coors Field history — Game 163 of the 2007 MLB season.

Late in the regular season, the Padres were fighting to clinch a playoff spot and knew in the last weekend that if they tied the Rockies, necessitating a play-in game, the tiebreaker would be held in Coors Field. Needing just one win to wrap up a berth, the Padres lost on Saturday — and Jake Peavy met with manager Bud Black and general manager Kevin Towers and lobbied hard for them to let him pitch the next day in Milwaukee. Peavy begged Black and Towers to let him pitch Game 162 in Milwaukee on Sunday, and he thought that Towers would back him. But Peavy was overruled: Black and Towers hoped that the Padres would clinch without Peavy, so they could line him up against the Phillies’ Cole Hamels in Game 1 of the playoffs. Instead, the Padres lost Sunday, and Peavy started Game 163 in Colorado.

Peavy: I’ve been part of a lot of great games there, but that place is not baseball. It’s a different game than anywhere else. I was a sinker-slider guy, but I didn’t use the sinker there; I couldn’t. Because half the time the ball would cut and go the opposite way.

That team was hotter than anybody on the planet, and [the elevation] took my sinker away from me — and I didn’t have that against Holliday, Todd Helton and Troy Tulowitzki. That’s a huge weapon taken away.

What happened in Game 163 was classic Coors: Colorado led 3-0, fell behind 5-3, the two sides swapping the lead back and forth. Peavy allowed six runs in 6⅓ innings. The Padres took an 8-6 lead in the top of 13th, and in the bottom of the inning, the Rockies scored three to win 9-8 on Matt Holliday’s famous slide. Peavy has never looked at a replay of the close game-ending play at home plate.

What’s the point?” Once he’s called safe, it doesn’t matter anymore. We didn’t have replay back then.

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Slaying the Coors Field monster: ‘My first time pitching at Coors was unbelievable’

Yet despite all of the horror stories, some pitchers have managed to succeed at Coors Field, whether for a single start or a sustained period — and speak of their experience in the same conquering manner a mountain climber would after scaling a hallowed peak.

Shawn Estes was well-versed in pitching at Coors Field when he joined the Rockies for the 2004 season, having spent the first seven seasons of his career with the division-rival San Francisco Giants. Though his 5.84 ERA was the worst of any full season during his 13-year career, he also won 15 games for the Rockies during his lone season in Denver, and he credits a mindset shift for helping him succeed.

“As a [Rockies] player pitching in Coors Field, I could care less what my ERA was. That wasn’t my mentality at all. It was about winning. And fortunately I had enough years of playing against the Rockies in Coors Field where I knew exactly what I was getting into.

“It was really trying to get through five innings, minimize the damage and know that your offense is going to score runs as well. As a visiting player, it was all about survival when you went to Coors Field and just trying to somehow get through the meat of that order with as little the damage as possible.”

But of the 34 starts he made for the Rockies in 2004 (15 of them in Colorado), it was the last time he took the mound at Coors Field in a home uniform that still resonates most for Estes, because he outdueled a Hall of Famer — and even registered a base hit off him.

“I remember beating Randy Johnson there for my 15th win in 2004. And I got a hit off him. Yep, I threw seven innings. That was probably my best game that season when you consider everything.”

Estes is not the only one who looks back with fondness at the times he stood tall at the game’s highest elevation.

Mark Leiter Jr., opposing pitcher: My first time pitching at Coors was unbelievable. I punched out nine in four innings. Second time I pitched at Coors, struck out five in the first two innings and it was early in the season so I got tired. I would say the thing about Coors is it definitely fatigues you a little more. That’s definitely real. And I think you have to be precise — like, you can’t have lazy finishes.

I feel like the second you change how you’re pitching because it’s there, you lose out on your flow. And that’s where I think guys get intimidated, if I had the right way to put it. Just being more selective and careful of your off-speed puts you probably in more of a defensive mode.

Jeremy Hefner, opposing pitcher: The game I pitched well, I think it was a makeup of a snowout earlier in the year. So we were somewhere, had to fly to Colorado for one day, and I end up making the start. I gave up a homer right down the left-field line to Tulo. I think CarGo [Carlos Gonzalez] may have hit a double or a hard hit. I got an RBI groundout — bases-loaded RBI groundout. I remember it being very sunny. The opposite of when we came earlier in the season.

Blake Snell, opposing pitcher: I can’t remember just one [horror story] but I can remember the opposite of one. July 19, 2016. My first game there. I gave up one hit. I was young and naïve. I’ve never pitched well there since.

When asked “What do you think of first when you think of Coors Field?” Snell paused before summing up what’s on the minds of many pitchers as they arrive in Colorado’s thin air.

When we fly out.