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RALEIGH, N.C. — It was a late December morning, more or less like any other for Grayson McCall, except on this day, he awoke with the urge to destroy something beautiful.

A couple weeks earlier, he had committed to NC State after spending five years at Coastal Carolina, saddling up for one last rodeo as a college football quarterback at a bigger school, on a bigger stage. That lit the fuse.

For the past few years — effectively as long as anyone outside of his hometown of Indian Trail, North Carolina, had known him — McCall was branded as the swaggering, rollicking, beach bum quarterback of an upstart team from (just outside) Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. He won games (32 in 40 starts) and threw touchdowns (87) and, as he noted in slightly more colorful language during the high-flying 2020 season when Coastal was 11-0 and ranked inside the top 10, he was Chanticleer teal through and through.

More than all of that, however, the one thing everyone knew about McCall was this: He sported a glorious, luxurious, cascading mullet.

The front was a precisely quaffed billboard for handling business. In the back, a flowing, wild mane that instantly informed the world that this guy knew how to party.

It was his calling card, but on this morning, McCall was ready to reinvent himself.

“I just chopped it off,” McCall said. “I FaceTimed my mom leaving the barbershop, and she’s like, ‘What the hell happened?'”

McCall was almost entirely ignored as a recruit, then his 2020 season catapulted him to stardom on the national stage. For the next four years, he existed as both a football player (a three-time Sun Belt Player of the Year) and as a brand (college football’s favorite blue-collar underdog). But after a nearly career-ending injury in 2023, he figured he needed a new challenge with a new team, one he could help propel to new heights.

And, he needed a haircut.

McCall’s mom, Lisa Kottyan, wasn’t the only one horrified by this new clean-cut look.

McCall had the mullet for his official visit to NC State in early December. When he arrived back on campus in January, quarterbacks coach Kurt Roper didn’t recognize him.

Center Zeke Correll, who’d transferred from Notre Dame, met McCall for the first time on that visit, too. It was what sold him on his new quarterback.

“The first thing I noticed was the mullet,” Correll said, “and I was like, this is a guy I can play with.”

The world’s loss, however, was McCall’s catharsis.

This year, he decided, he’d debut the new Grayson McCall: older, wiser, more appreciative of how rare it is to script the right ending.

“And everything I’ve heard since,” McCall said, “is ‘Where’s the mullet?'”


MCCALL PLAYED HIGH school football at Porter Ridge, where head coach Michael Hertz ran the triple option. McCall put up good numbers, mostly with his legs, but lived in the shadow of more heavily recruited quarterbacks in the area like Sam Howell and Garrett Shrader.

Coastal Carolina, which didn’t become an FBS program until 2017, wasn’t in the business of landing elite recruits, and in McCall, coach Jamey Chadwell saw a tough quarterback with a good skill set who already knew the basic contours of his option scheme.

“I won’t tell you we knew all along, but had the tools to be pretty good,” said Chadwell, now the head coach at Liberty. “Where we were surprised is, he threw the ball really well.”

McCall redshirted the 2019 season, but by the summer of 2020, he’d blossomed — and so had the mullet.

The COVID-19 lockdowns led to a lot of bad hairstyles, and a few Coastal veterans decided the mullet would make for good team bonding — meaning any aspiring QB1 had to do his part.

“I wouldn’t say we required it,” linebacker Silas Kelly said. “Strongly encouraged.”

The Chanticleers, who were picked to finish last in the Sun Belt in 2020, opened the season with an upset win on the road against Kansas. McCall had won the starting job just four days earlier, but he had already delivered the school’s biggest win as an FBS program.

A month later, McCall and the Chants knocked off No. 16 Louisiana. From there, they just kept winning and McCall’s legend kept growing.

There’s a play from Coastal Carolina’s otherwise forgettable 51-0 win over Georgia State in 2020 that secured McCall’s mythical status. McCall rolled out to his left, forcing the edge rusher to either cover the running back or converge on the quarterback. The defender — 6-2, 260 pounds — engaged McCall, who tossed wide to his tailback, then swung the defensive end to the ground like a rag doll.

For any defender worth his salt, it was humiliating.

For McCall, it was the moment he became a social media celebrity, with the clip going viral.

“When your quarterback is out there hip-tossing D-linemen,” said former Coastal linebacker Teddy Gallagher, “everyone starts to believe in him. He’s a dude. He’s tough as nails.”

By early December, Coastal Carolina was 9-0, ranked No. 14 in the country, and after a series of unlikely pandemic-related twists, a showdown with fellow Cinderella BYU — ranked eighth nationally — was cobbled together with just a few days’ notice. The game was branded as “Mormons vs. Mullets” and ESPN’s “College GameDay” was on campus. BYU was a heavy favorite, but McCall helped engineer a 13-play touchdown drive in the fourth quarter that keyed a 22-17 win for Team Mullet.

Coastal finished the year 11-0 before falling to Liberty in the FBC Mortgage Cure Bowl, and McCall’s final stat line was otherworldly: 26 touchdown passes, three interceptions and more than 3,000 yards of total offense in just 11 games.

Over the next two seasons, he was just as good — 51 touchdown passes and five interceptions in 2021 and 2022.

It had all been easy — “always sunshine and rainbows,” McCall said. But then Chadwell left to take the Liberty job, and suddenly McCall realized he might be better off in the transfer portal.

“It seemed like I was taking a call from every school in the country,” he said.

Only, he couldn’t walk away from Coastal.

He doesn’t regret staying, he said, but the story didn’t have a happy ending.


THE FIRST THING McCall remembers is laying splayed on the turf, surrounded by teammates.

It was Oct. 21, 2023, in Jonesboro, Arkansas. McCall had just scrambled out of the pocket, darted downfield and slid for a first down. An Arkansas State defender dove at him anyway, his helmet catching McCall under the chin. McCall’s head whipped back and hit the turf.

McCall had concussions before, but he’d never blacked out. This time, he had no recollection of the play.

Instead, he remembers in vague snippets the confusion, the neck brace, the stretcher, the ambulance.

“When I really acknowledged myself, we were going to the hospital,” he said. “It was a scary time.”

He spent a night in an Arkansas hospital before returning home. None of his family members had traveled for the game, but they met with doctors a few days later. The news was not good.

The doctor called it a traumatic brain injury.

The family went to lunch afterward, and Grayson was quiet. It was his dad, Jody, who spoke up first.

“This is about your health and your life and not football,” he said. “You need to really think about what’s best for you to move forward in life.”

Grayson played his first football game when he was 5, and though no one was keeping score, Jody remembers Grayson diving for a runner’s flag on the final play of the game and missing.

Grayson was quiet in the backseat of his dad’s truck on the ride home.

“You alright?” Jody asked.

“No,” Grayson replied.

His dad gave him a pat and reminded him that no one wins every game.

Grayson looked up with tears welling in his eyes.

“But if I’d just gotten his flag,” he said.

“That’s when I knew,” Jody said. “This kid is die-hard.”

Now, 16 years later, the kid was considering life after football.

“My whole world was crashing down,” McCall said. “I love this game so much. But it’s a game and there’s more to life than playing football.”

McCall sat out the rest of the season, though he attended every Coastal practice and game, including the Chants’ bowl game in December. By that point, the medical reports were more encouraging. McCall was given the OK to return to the field.

Facing a possible end to his career had changed him though, and he finally felt ready to leave Coastal. This time, however, the pool of portal suitors was thin — Baylor, UCF, a few others.

But the first coach he heard from, on the day he entered the portal, was NC State’s Dave Doeren.

“You want to come home?” he asked McCall, selling him on playing in North Carolina.

McCall did.

“When can you get here?” Doeren asked.


MCCALL SURVEYED THE defense and saw a blitz coming, so he flipped the protection and shifted one of his receivers. He took the snap, and the pressure arrived instantly — a zero blitz from NC State defensive coordinator Tony Gibson, who’d been trying to fluster the new quarterback throughout fall camp.

McCall sidestepped a defender, set his feet and unleashed a dart for a touchdown.

In the aftermath, McCall calmly turned around, feigned exhaustion and grinned at his coach.

“Wow,” he said. “I really had to play quarterback there.”

This is what Doeren loves about McCall. He’s a veteran who knows the job inside and out. But he also has a swagger to the way he plays, the way he carries himself that’s infectious.

“I think I’m the guy that, if I come in every day with that confidence and swagger and aura — it’s very contagious and guys will follow it,” McCall said. “And then we have 100 dudes on this football team that are full of confidence that want to go whip the guy in front of them on every play. And if we take that mindset into every week, I don’t think there’s a team in the country that could play with us.”

One of McCall’s first orders of business upon arrival in Raleigh was to start feeding his O-line.

“Steaks,” Correll said. “That won my heart over right away.”

Tight end Justin Joly remembers McCall taking him out for hot chicken in the spring. On the drive home, McCall spotted a makeshift shop selling fireworks on the side of the road. He looked at Joly, a fellow transfer, and smiled: “Why not?” he said. They set them off that night to great fanfare.

“He’s just a joy to be around,” Joly said.

The response to the practice touchdown also was a subtle nod to all the criticism that still swirls around McCall. Coming out of high school, he was pegged as an option quarterback, and so he was ignored. Five years later, after a mediocre half-season outside of Chadwell’s option system, the same criticism applied.

“If you truthfully watched every play from the last four years, you wouldn’t say that,” McCall said. “But it was kind of like [Chadwell] leaving. We won 30 games in three years, and everyone in the country should want him. And the same for me. Instead, it was like ‘I don’t know if we take a chance on this guy. Is he a system quarterback or can he get the job done?'”

For NC State, that doubt feels familiar. The Pack have been ranked in six of the past seven seasons, reaching as high as No. 10 nationally, but haven’t finished better than 20th. It’s a program that has won nine games in four of the past seven years, but has hit 10 wins just once in its history — 22 years ago. It’s a charter member of the ACC, but it hasn’t won a conference championship since 1979.

“You just have to walk over hot coals until they’re not hot anymore, and then you have the scars to prove it,” Doeren said. “That’s life, and I believe when you do that, you create karma.”

Maybe it was that karma that led McCall to NC State, a place where a chip on the shoulder is a part of the uniform.

“He fits that mold,” offensive lineman Anthony Belton said. “As a team, we just feel NC State’s always second or third. We’ve got that sense of like, they’re trying to little bro us again. We’ve got to keep proving people wrong.”

Proving people wrong is nearly as much a part of the McCall brand as the flowing locks.

“The mantra and the culture here matches up with how I want to play football,” McCall said. “Tough, blue-collar guys that work their asses off and want to win a lot of football games.

“I’m the guy that can lead these guys to where we want to go.”


MCCALL GOT HIS first tattoo after that miraculous 2020 season. It’s on his right leg, an image of three crosses with “Proverbs 5:6” underneath. The Bible verse is about understanding the future — that it is both malleable and unknowable. If there’s a lesson to be learned from McCall’s story, that’s it.

He was once an overlooked recruit, then a fan favorite. He gave all of himself to football, then he saw it nearly taken away. He was first wary of a fresh start, then he demanded one.

He’s come to appreciate what he can control about his story and what he can’t.

The rest of his right leg is a testament to the journey: A Chanticleer logo, his jersey number, an outline of North Carolina with his hometown highlighted, an ace of hearts with the reminder, “Bet on yourself.” If NC State wins an ACC championship this year, he’s promised to add a wolf tattoo, too.

On the front of his leg is an image his roommate designed last year. It’s a sword splitting the words “faith” and “fear,” one atop the other, because that’s how he sees the world. Faith above fear, always.

McCall has faith in this team. The Wolfpack believe he’s the man who can lead them to unprecedented heights. Fate has not ascribed the outcome for the overlooked QB or the “little brother” team, and so they can still keep reaching toward their goal.

McCall isn’t thinking as much about the future now though. Nor is he trying to outrun the past. He’s in a place of balance and, he’s come to realize, he looks a lot better in that place with a mullet.

“Some people think it’s a superstition now,” McCall said, “but I embrace it. When everyone thinks of that 2020 season and my personality and how I play on the football field, it’s, ‘He’s a tough dude with a mullet who loves football.'”

The hairdo is not quite back to its former greatness — the business side more corporate casual, the party side a mere cocktail hour. It’s a work in progress. Then again, so is McCall. So is NC State. The future malleable and unknowable.

“My journey’s been crazy,” McCall said. “But ultimately, I’m healthy, and I’m just so excited to be here with this staff and these players and to be playing football again.”

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‘That place is a nightmare’: 30 years of Coors Field pitching horror stories

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'That place is a nightmare': 30 years of Coors Field pitching horror stories

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.


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.”

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Flashback: Buster Posey cranks his second 3-run HR of the game

On May 28, 2016, Giants catcher Buster Posey takes Carlos Estevez deep for his second three-run homer of the game at Coors Field.

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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.

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L.A.’s Glasnow joins Snell on IL with similar injury

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L.A.'s Glasnow joins Snell on IL with similar injury

LOS ANGELES — Tyler Glasnow was put on the injured list Monday with what the Los Angeles Dodgers described as shoulder inflammation, joining fellow frontline starter Blake Snell, who has been sidelined by a similar injury.

Dodgers manager Dave Roberts said Glasnow’s right shoulder is structurally sound but is also dealing with what Roberts called “overall body soreness.”

Glasnow gave up back-to-back homers in Sunday’s first inning against the Pittsburgh Pirates, then was removed from the game after experiencing discomfort while warming up for the second. Afterward, Glasnow expressed frustration at his constant string of injuries and speculated that his latest ailment might stem from the mechanical adjustments he made to improve the health of his elbow.

Glasnow sat out the 2½ months of last season — including the playoffs — with what was initially diagnosed as an elbow sprain, a big reason why the Dodgers were relegated to only three starting pitchers in their march toward a World Series title. Now, he is one of eight starting pitchers on the Dodgers’ injured list.

One of those arms, Tony Gonsolin, will be activated Wednesday to make his first major league start in 20 months. But the Dodgers are short enough on pitching that they’ll have to stage a bullpen game the day before.

“Pitching is certainly volatile,” said Roberts, who added journeyman right-hander Noah Davis to the roster in Glasnow’s place. “We experienced it last year and essentially every year. I think the thing that’s probably most disconcerting is the bullpen leading Major League Baseball in innings. When you’re talking about the long season, the starters are built up to go take those innings down. That’s sort of where my head is at as far as trying to make sure we don’t redline these guys in the pen.”

Dodgers relievers entered Monday’s series opener against the Miami Marlins having accumulated 121⅓ innings, 7⅔ more than the Chicago White Sox, who are already on a 122-loss pace.

Glasnow and Snell aren’t expected to be out for a prolonged period, but their timetables are uncertain. Clayton Kershaw could return before the end of May, but Shohei Ohtani might not serve as a two-way player until after the All-Star break. Yoshinobu Yamamoto and Roki Sasaki could temporarily assume a traditional five-day schedule, as opposed to the once-a-week routine they’ve been following, but the Dodgers have only four starting pitchers on their active roster.

Glasnow, 31, is in his 10th year in the big leagues but has never compiled more than 134 innings in a season, a mark he set last year. The Dodgers acquired him from the Tampa Bay Rays and subsequently signed him to a five-year, $136.56 million extension in December 2023 with the thought that his injury issues might be behind him.

“Tyler said it — very frustrating,” Roberts said. We’re just trying to get to the bottom of it.”

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Altuve asks out of Astros’ top spot, then homers

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Altuve asks out of Astros' top spot, then homers

HOUSTON — Jose Altuve asked manager Joe Espada to move him out of the leadoff spot and into the second hole for the Houston Astros. The reason? He wanted more time to get to the dugout from left field.

Altuve hit a two-run homer in the Astros’ 8-5 win over the Detroit Tigers on Monday while playing left in 2025 for the first time in his career after spending his first 14 MLB seasons at second base. “I just need like 10 more seconds,” he said.

The 34-year-old Altuve made the transition to the outfield this season after the trade of Kyle Tucker and the departure of Alex Bregman shook up Houston’s lineup.

Jeremy Peña batted in the leadoff spot for Monday night’s game and went 2-for-4 with two runs scored. Altuve didn’t suggest that Peña be the one to take his leadoff spot, and on Monday, he had two hits and three RBIs while batting second for the first time since 2023.

“I just told Joe that maybe he can hit me second some games at some point, and he did it today,” Altuve said. “I just need like that little extra time to come from left field, and he decided to put Jeremy [there].”

Peña is hitting .265 with three homers and 11 RBIs. He batted first in Sunday’s 7-3 win over Kansas City — with Altuve getting a day off — and had two hits and three RBIs. He added two more hits and scored twice Monday.

“I enjoy playing baseball,” Altuve said. “I love playing, especially with these guys. I like being in the lineup. In the end it doesn’t really matter if I play second or left, if I lead off or not. I just want to be in the lineup and help this team to win.”

Along with giving him a little extra time to get ready to bat, Altuve thinks the athletic Peña batting leadoff could boost a lineup that has struggled at times this season.

“Jeremy is one of those guys that has been playing really good for our team,” Altuve said. “He’s taking really good at-bats. He’s very explosive and dynamic on the bases, so when he gets on base a lot of things can happen. Maybe I can bunt him over so Yordan [Alvarez] can drive him in.”

Altuve is a nine-time All-Star. The 2017 AL MVP is hitting .282 with four homers and 12 RBIs this season.

Espada said that he and Altuve often share ideas about the team and that they had been talking about this as a possibility for a while before he made the move.

“He’s always looking for ways to get everyone involved, and he’s playing left field, comes in, maybe give him a little bit more time to get ready between at-bats, just a lot of things that went into this decision,” Espada said. “He’s been around, he knows himself better than anyone else here, so hopefully this could create some opportunities for everyone here, and we can score some runs.”

Information from The Associated Press was used in this report.

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