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ATHENS, Ga. — For more than two decades, Scott Cochran’s thundering bullhorn of a voice helped him become the most famous strength and conditioning coach in college football.

It was his instrument in motivating 77 All-Americans and 41 NFL first-round draft picks as a member of coaching staffs that won eight national championships at LSU, Alabama and Georgia.

That booming voice — the one that welcomed Alabama fans to Bryant-Denny Stadium in scoreboard videos and was featured in profiles on ESPN and “60 Minutes” — is also one of the reasons Cochran won’t be standing on the sideline during Saturday night’s showdown between the No. 2 Bulldogs and No. 4 Crimson Tide in Tuscaloosa (7:30 p.m., ABC/ESPN App).

In 2012, while Cochran was assisting legendary Alabama coach Nick Saban in guiding the Crimson Tide to back-to-back national championships, he was suffering from debilitating migraine headaches. The man affectionately known as “Coach Yeah” was screaming so loud and so often during workouts he was left with splitting pain near his temples that wouldn’t go away.

As Cochran pushed and prodded his players to give him one more lift or just another ounce of effort, his brain would sometimes throw up a white flag.

“I had to literally run and put my head into the ice tub just to get rid of the headache because there’s no way I was going to miss a lift group or miss a player walking through the door,” Cochran told ESPN.

Doctors advised him that the migraines were the result of increased pressure in his head and neck from screaming. As Cochran shouted instructions to his players in the weight room, the blood vessels in his head contracted, leaving him in throbbing pain. The migraines would last from a few minutes to several hours. Cochran said at times it felt like a “vise was cranking” his head.

A doctor offered Cochran a simple remedy: Stop screaming so much.

There was one problem: Cochran’s voice was his brand, akin to legendary Alabama coach Paul “Bear” Bryant’s houndstooth hat and former Florida coach Steve Spurrier’s visor.

“But this is who I am,” Cochran told the doctor. “You try not breathing.”

According to Cochran, a doctor initially prescribed blood thinners and then beta-blockers, which slow a person’s heart rate and relax blood vessels to control migraines. However, neither drug did much to control the frequency or intensity of his headaches.

A doctor proceeded to the next step, providing Cochran with a prescription for Vicodin, which contains the opioid pain reliever hydrocodone and acetaminophen (Tylenol).

The doctor delivered a stern warning: “Be careful. This can be addictive.” When that didn’t work, the doctor changed the drug to extended-release OxyContin.

“And, of course, with my ego, I’m like, ‘I’m not going to get addicted to something,'” Cochran said. “Come on. I’m winning. I’m winning everything. I’m financially successful. Life is too good for something like that. I’ll be fine.”


Cochran, 45, grew up in New Orleans and earned kinesiology and sports management degrees from LSU. He started as a strength and conditioning coach at University Laboratory School in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. When Saban left Michigan State to take over the Tigers in 2000, he hired Tommy Moffitt, Cochran’s strength coach in high school, to oversee his weight room.

“I called Coach Moffitt and said, ‘Hey, I’ll cut your grass. I’ll scrub your toilets. Whatever I need to do, let me come work for you,'” Cochran said.

After three years as a graduate assistant and two more as an assistant strength and conditioning coach, Cochran departed LSU to join the New Orleans Hornets’ staff.

When Saban left the Miami Dolphins to take over Alabama’s struggling program in 2007, he tried to hire Moffitt away from LSU. Moffitt wouldn’t leave, so he hired Cochran instead.

“I just think people like positive people,” said Saban, who joined ESPN as a college football analyst after retiring from Alabama. “I don’t know that people relate to negative, ‘poor me’ type people. Scott was always upbeat and positive. I think his energy and enthusiasm and that positive attitude was contagious in a lot of ways in terms of the work ethic that we were able to establish.”

In a role that traditionally operated behind the scenes, Cochran became the second-most-powerful voice in Alabama’s football program — behind only Saban’s.

Along the way, Cochran’s high energy and raspy voice developed a cult following among Tide fans. When the Crimson Tide played at No. 3 Georgia in 2008, the Bulldogs wore black jerseys and urged their fans to wear black at Sanford Stadium. In practice that week, Cochran told Alabama’s players, “They’re wearing black jerseys because they know they’re going to a f—ing funeral.” The No. 8 Crimson Tide blasted the Bulldogs 41-30 on the road.

“Probably to the outside world, it’s like he was 6 feet, 4 inches and 300 pounds and bench-pressed the whole world because of the voice,” said Ole Miss coach Lane Kiffin, who worked as Alabama’s offensive coordinator and quarterbacks coach from 2014 to 2016. “He was really not that big of a guy when you’re next to him, but his voice was so powerful.”

With Cochran leading Alabama’s famous “Fourth Quarter” conditioning program in the spring and summer, the Crimson Tide were the sport’s standard for more than a dozen years. The Tide captured three national titles in Saban’s first six seasons, then played in four straight College Football Playoff National Championship games from 2015 to 2018. They defeated Clemson 45-40 in 2015 and Georgia 26-23 in overtime in 2017. Alabama went 55-4 over those four years, never losing more than once in a season.

Cochran received plenty of notoriety for Alabama’s success. He was named the Samson Strength & Conditioning Coach of the Year in 2008 and 2011. Regions Bank featured him in a TV commercial with his gravelly pipes cheering on customers as they saved money. By 2016, he was the highest-paid strength coach in the FBS, earning $525,000 per year.

Kiffin and other coaches who worked with Cochran at Alabama said he was more than just a highly successful strength coach who transformed five-star recruits into All-Americans. He was also a much-needed filter between the demanding Saban and his players.

Kiffin joked Alabama’s weight room was like Munchkinland from the “Wizard of Oz.”

“Everybody is miserable up here and then when you walk down the stairs to Munchkinland, everybody’s singing, there’s music playing, everybody’s happy,” Kiffin said. “It was a very interesting dynamic — good cop, bad cop.”

Other former Alabama assistants, including Maryland head coach Mike Locksley, who worked under Saban from 2016-2018, agreed that Cochran was often a sounding board for players and other assistants.

“He knew the players and kind of got a great feel for how the players were,” Locksley said. “He also was the guy that kind of motivated and kept the coaches from jumping off the ship sometimes.”


None of the eight former coaches contacted by ESPN who previously worked with Cochran said they were aware of his substance abuse struggles at the time.

By 2015, three years after getting his first prescription, Cochran said he had developed an addiction, taking 10 pills per day. He crushed and snorted the pills, so they’d get into his bloodstream and rid him of his migraines faster. Cochran said he obtained prescriptions from a doctor in Alabama and another one in Mississippi. He bought additional pills from dealers off the street.

“I had to go to docs outside of the building to get more and more and more,” Cochran said. “But the one thing was, it fixed my headaches, which was crazy. It was literally like, ‘Oh, shoot. I can coach all day.’ Like, my head doesn’t hurt. I don’t have to put my head into the ice tub between every workout group, you know?”

Defensive coordinator Kirby Smart was one of Cochran’s closest friends at Alabama. When Smart was hired to coach Georgia in December 2015, he tried to bring Cochran with him. Cochran wasn’t ready to leave Saban, but as his addiction worsened over the next few years, he finally agreed to join Smart at Georgia. He was hired as the Bulldogs’ special teams coordinator– an on-field position — in February 2020.

Cochran’s dream was to become a head coach, and he figured no school was going to hire a strength coach to lead its program. He also believed a change of scenery would help him leave his addiction in the rearview mirror.

“For about two years, I was trying to figure out, ‘How do I stop?'” Cochran said. “Because I couldn’t put it down. And so, I was thinking, ‘OK, if I change jobs, if I change geographical location, maybe I can leave this stuff behind.'”

Cochran said he took a few pills with him to Georgia, knowing he’d be sick from withdrawal symptoms. He never stopped using. When the university shut down its campus and moved classes online because of the COVID-19 pandemic in March 2020, Cochran returned to Tuscaloosa, where his family was still living. He was back among his old dealers and was soon snorting 20 to 25 pills a day.

On April 10, 2020, Cochran was discussing special teams play with coaches from the Atlanta Falcons in a videoconference. His wife, Cissy, found him passed out in his office chair. He was sweating profusely and wasn’t breathing. His skin had turned purple. She initially believed he’d had a heart attack or stroke.

“He was kind of slumped over, just not really responsive,” she said.

When two paramedics arrived at Cochran’s house, one of them recognized that he was the former Alabama strength coach. He started giving Cochran chest compressions, believing he’d suffered a heart attack.

But then the other paramedic spoke up: “This is an overdose. NARCAN him now.”

One of the paramedics administered NARCAN nasal spray, which is designed to reverse an opioid overdose. When that didn’t work, he injected Cochran with another narcotic blocker. Cochran said he woke up in a hospital about two days later.

A doctor told him, “That was a really close call. You were dead.”

Cochran knew the doctor and asked him, “Can you write me a script?”

Cissy Cochran had noticed her husband was more irritable during his final two years in Alabama, sometimes snapping at her or their three children. She never suspected he was abusing painkillers.

After her husband’s overdose, Cissy remembered that former NBA player Chris Herren had talked to the Alabama football team over the years about his own drug and alcohol addictions. She called Herren, who told her to put Scott on a plane and get him to Herren Wellness, his recovery center in Seekonk, Massachusetts.

“She was in a panic, and she just wanted to find a place for him to get help,” said Herren, who spoke to ESPN with Cochran’s permission.

Cissy flew with her husband on Easter Sunday to make sure he made it. Herren’s staff picked Scott up at the airport, and Cissy flew home.

“He’s a very prideful guy,” Herren said. “He’s got an unbelievably big personality. I always watched him firing people up. He was always helping, always motivating. When I saw him come up the first time, he wasn’t the same. He seemed like he was worn out.”

Scott Cochran spent 28 days at Herren Wellness. He and his wife were the only ones who knew he was in recovery; he didn’t tell Smart about his addiction. Since Georgia’s coaches were still working from home during the pandemic, he participated in staff meetings via Zoom and had FaceTime calls with recruits.

“No one had a clue,” Cochran said.

During his initial stay at Herren Wellness, Cochran felt like he was suffering from the flu as his body withdrew from the opioids. He was wearing a Fitbit and remembers sleeping about eight hours over 10 days.

Cochran returned to Georgia to prepare for the abbreviated 2020 season. He said his sobriety lasted about two months. He was in a new college town and had to find new dealers. Soon, according to Cochran, he was snorting as many as 50 pills a day.

The Bulldogs went 8-2 in 2020, and Cochran’s first season as special teams coordinator was a success. Georgia led the SEC in kickoff returns and kickoff coverage and was fourth in punting.

By June 2021, Cochran’s life was being consumed by his addiction. He told his wife that he was using again and needed to return to Herren Wellness for a two-week refresher course. When he arrived at the facility, he told administrators that his urine test wasn’t going to be clean. They told him there wasn’t OxyContin in his system, there was only fentanyl.

“I was basically addicted to fentanyl,” Cochran said.

The doctors at Herren Wellness wanted Cochran to stay for 100 days to get clean. Cochran knew he could no longer keep the secret from Smart, so he called his good friend and boss.

“You hired a drug addict,” Cochran told Smart.

“What are you talking about?” Smart asked.

Cochran told Smart he’d been abusing painkillers for nearly 10 years and was calling him from rehab. Smart assured him he and Georgia would do anything to help him. Smart flew to Massachusetts to see him about a month later.

“It was tough,” Cochran said. “You have so much guilt, so much shame. And to open up and tell someone that you’re broken, how do you say that to somebody, you know?”

Worst of all, Cochran said he felt like he betrayed the players who had been open to him about their mental struggles and off-field problems while he was hiding his own.

“The worst part was I neglected my family,” Cochran said. “I dove all into work, all into the players. And it’s so sad and so disgusting to be saying one thing, and then as soon as they’re walking out the door, I’m doing something completely different. To be there and execute whatever they need done, but I’m broken bad.”

Herren said therapists and patients at his facility were soon wearing Georgia football T-shirts. During Cochran’s second stay, he was more committed to getting sober and more transparent about his struggles.

“To be honest with you, most people who call and say, ‘I want to come to your place for a month,’ I’m not that place,” Herren said. “I want to see people kind of unplug, disconnect and really jump in and focus on their recovery. He stayed. He was committed. He just kind of took his hands off the wheel and said, ‘You drive. You tell me where to go.'”

When Cochran’s wife and three children visited him during his second month of recovery, they were surprised to hear him laugh during a walk.

“They had never heard me laugh,” Cochran said. “It was like, ‘Are you kidding?’ But it made sense, you know? Everything’s about winning. Everything’s about the next game, the next play. How do you get the most out of your players?”

On Aug. 8, 2021, Georgia announced that Cochran was taking a leave of absence and was “dealing with health issues and is taking time to prioritize his mental health and well-being.”

Cochran returned to work in mid-October 2021. Former Florida and South Carolina coach Will Muschamp had assumed his on-field position, so Cochran worked behind the scenes as an analyst and player development director.

Georgia went 14-1 in 2021, losing only to Alabama in the SEC championship game. The Bulldogs avenged that loss with a 33-18 victory in the CFP National Championship, ending the program’s 41-year title drought.

The Bulldogs went 15-0 the next season, claiming their second straight CFP national title with a 65-7 rout of TCU.

Cochran’s biggest victory came nearly six months later when he reached his two-year sobriety anniversary on July 5, 2023. Smart congratulated him via text message.

Then, in the beginning of November 2023, Cochran relapsed again. He was buying painkillers from a former addict — two a day at first and then six to eight. He didn’t tell his wife or anyone at Georgia that he was using again. Cochran said he started out of boredom more than anything else.

A few days before Georgia played Florida State in the Orange Bowl this past January, Cissy Cochran grabbed her husband’s arm and said, “I know you’re struggling. I don’t know if you’re using, but I know you’re struggling. This can be the last game we coach.”

Georgia announced on Feb. 14 that Cochran was no longer a member of its coaching staff. He entered rehab in Athens and signed a two-year contract to remain sober through the program.


On Aug. 16, Cochran was back in front of a college football team. Georgia Tech coach Brent Key, who worked with Cochran for three years at Alabama, invited him to speak to his players about the dangers of substance abuse.

“As men, we hide things,” Key told his players. “That’s what we’re supposed to do. We’re supposed to hide things, not let people know when we’re hurt, if we’re in a different place. So, what you have to do is pay attention. Scott’s going to be very transparent and open with you guys tonight.”

Over the next 42 minutes, Cochran shared all the details — even the ugly ones — about his career, addiction and recovery. His program included segments from his “60 Minutes” interview, Regions Bank Commercial and a video of him smashing a crystal CFP runner-up trophy with a sledgehammer.

“I’m making the money. Life’s good,” Cochran told the players. “I wouldn’t be standing here if it was sunshine and rainbows, right? I relapse. I pick back up last year because my ego got so big. My ego got so big because I’m the man. My ego got so big, you couldn’t tell me s—, and so I picked back up.”

While his life used to be defined by championships, draft picks and All-Americans, Cochran now measures it by days of sobriety.

“My life’s a little different now,” Cochran said. “I attack it a little different. I have to be right where my feet are 24/7. If I start thinking about the future, I’m going to start stressing about the dumb s—, right? And I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss this moment right here with y’all.

“If I start thinking about the past, that’s shame. It’s shame in that past. There’s shame back there. ‘Man, I can’t believe I’ve ruined all this, all that.’ So, if I can just be right where my feet are, if I can find that juice, that energy to be who I need to be right here in this moment, this is nothing different from football.”

On June 26, Cochran and former Georgia political staffer Jeff Breedlove, who battled a cocaine addiction, launched the American Addiction Recovery Association. The group’s mission is “to save lives, restore families and strengthen communities.” AARA wants to be what the Susan G. Komen Foundation was for breast cancer and eliminate the stigma surrounding addiction.

“Why not stand up and say, ‘Hey, let’s come together,'” Cochran said. “Let’s talk about addiction for what it is, and not, ‘Because you’re an addict, we don’t want you around.’ The opposite of addiction is connection. If we can get people out of that shame and guilt cycle, there’s going to be a lot more recovery, and that’s going to save lives.”

As part of Cochran’s work, he has spoken to football teams at Ole Miss, Maryland, Oregon, Florida, Clemson and Marshall. He has appeared at fraternities in Alabama and a construction convention in California.

“I’m happy for him,” Smart said. “I think he’s really in his calling now. He is in his element when he’s telling his story. I think about a team that’s never heard that, how impactful he can be. We all have people that have been really in need of help, and he’s lucky to be alive. I’m happy as hell for him.”

At the end of each program, Cochran posts his cell phone number on the screen. He tells anyone to contact him if they’re having a problem with substance abuse or have a family member who’s using. He averages a couple of text messages a day. He recently helped a 52-year-old man get to the hospital and in recovery.

“It’s so rewarding to see the miracle of recovery every day,” Cochran said.

Cochran has been sober for more than eight months, but he knows it remains an ongoing, daily battle. For the most part, his migraines are gone, although one will pop up occasionally when he’s speaking to a group without a microphone or playing rough with his kids.

Herren said one of the most rewarding parts of Cochran’s recovery is seeing his face on a weekly Zoom meeting of alumni from his recovery center.

“That’s the beauty of being sober and sharing your story is that you know you have a front-row seat to watch people that you help rebuild their life,” Herren said. “He’s a very selfless, giving human being, and to see him now and who he is and what he’s doing and what he’s overcome and the way he’s still fighting, that’s the most fulfilling thing to me because he’s finally putting himself first.”

Gene Wojciechowski contributed additional reporting.

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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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