Jeff Huson
I asked Jeff Huson about Camden Yards, and the man lit up like it was Opening Day all over again. Then we got into that night—September 6, 1995—and I basically stopped talking, because what do you say to a guy who not only played in the game where Cal Ripken broke Lou Gehrig’s record but played NEXT to Cal, less than 30 feet away, at third base? Huson was there, in the lineup, catching pop-ups, rolling commemorative baseballs into the dugout, watching history unfold in real time. He called himself the Forrest Gump of baseball. After this conversation? I’m not arguing. Some guys play the game. Others become part of the game’s legend.
Robby Incmikoski: Huey, Camden Yards has been open since ’92 and still looks like it was built yesterday. It’s got this timeless beauty—like it’s part ballpark, part shrine. What was it like playing there?
Jeff Huson: It was amazing. I’d played at Memorial Stadium as a visitor—just your standard big-league park. But when you walked into Camden Yards? Man, everything changed. The way they tucked that warehouse in, the way the whole park felt like a throwback with modern touches—it was glorious. Every single night, 40,000 fans in orange and black. You walk in and go, "This is where I get to work?" I’ve got goosebumps even now.
Robby Incmikoski: And as a player, did you guys really feel that? That the place was different, special?
Jeff Huson: Oh yeah. We knew how lucky we were. Camden Yards was the first of that new generation of stadiums that weren’t multi-use concrete bowls. It was built just for baseball, and you felt that purity every day. It became the model. You’d look around and think, “We’ve got something really special here.”
Robby Incmikoski: Let's talk about the night. September 6, 1995. Cal Ripken Jr. plays his 2,131st straight game. Biggest story in sports. You were in that game. What do you remember?
Jeff Huson: A lot. But it started building weeks before. Around the All-Star break, we were already circling dates—barring rainouts—to see when it would happen. It was all anyone in baseball talked about. The anticipation was like Christmas as a kid. That’s what it felt like.
Five or six days before the game, we figured out who was pitching. The Angels had four lefties and one righty in the rotation—Shawn Boskie. I was platooning with Jeff Manto. Mickey Tettleton hit right-handed, I hit left. We were sitting in the clubhouse, going through the matchups, and we realized: Boskie was pitching on the 6th. That meant I was starting.
Jeff Manto jumps up, half-laughing, half-pissed, and yells, “You mother******!” Everyone thought we were fighting, but really he was just mad I got the start on the biggest night in baseball.
Robby Incmikoski: You got to play in that game. Not sit on the bench. That’s incredible.
Jeff Huson: Yeah. That morning, driving to the ballpark, it felt different. Like, everyone knew it would be history. When we showed up, Secret Service met us at the door—President Clinton was coming. They patted us down, searched the clubhouse. Randy Myers had a bunch of hunting knives in his locker, and they confiscated them. He wasn’t happy, but hey, that’s what happens when POTUS shows up.
Then, sometime after BP, President Clinton comes in. We all stood by our lockers. You couldn’t move. He went down the row, shaking everyone’s hands, talking to each guy. I’ll never forget that—just standing still in total silence. Then he left, and it was like we all exhaled. That’s when it really hit: "This is the night."
Robby Incmikoski: And then the game starts.
Jeff Huson: Right. First inning, Cal and I do our usual routine. One of us would be the wide receiver, the other the DB, and Raffy Palmeiro would throw a football pass to us. Cal loved to turn everything into a game. That night, I played the role of DB, went up for the “interception,” and I’ve actually got a picture of it in my office.
After the half inning, someone says, “What if you hurt Cal during that little football routine? What if he trips and can’t finish five innings?” I was like, “Oh my god, I didn’t even think of that.” Next inning, Cal runs out for his route and I just let him go. Raffy throws him the ball and Cal looks back at me like, “Really?” I said, “I’m not going to be the guy who ends the streak.” He gave me a smile like, “Fair enough.”
Robby Incmikoski: So that was the only night you didn’t play the football game.
Jeff Huson: Just that night. I caught a pop-up in the first inning, and as it’s coming down, I’m thinking, “Don’t drop this. There are 50 million people watching.” Probably wasn’t that many, but that’s what my brain told me.
Every ball that night had a special logo—Cal’s number 8—and orange and black stitching. We tried to save them for everyone. After each play, I’d roll the ball back into the dugout so guys could grab one.
Then Cal hits a home run. And you think: "No way. This is a movie. Disney wouldn’t even script this—it’s too perfect.” And he wasn’t even feeling well. Fever or something. But of course, he hits a homer.
Once the game became official after five innings, the scoreboard flashes. And the stadium just… pauses. You felt the entire place realize, all at once, “This is it.” Time froze.
Robby Incmikoski: And then the lap. That legendary lap.
Jeff Huson: Bobby Bonilla finally said, “Cal, you need to go take a lap. Otherwise, this game’s never going to start again.” So Cal goes. Fans are hanging over the railings, reaching out. He high-fives everybody. And nobody cared that the game stopped. Everyone wanted to live in that moment. It wasn’t like, “Let’s get going.” It was: “Let’s never stop.”
And then the Angels come out of their dugout. Every guy on that team gave Cal a high five. That moment—that’s the respect we all have for each other, but this was next-level. They knew it. We all knew it. This would never happen again.
Robby Incmikoski: It hasn’t. And it won’t.
Jeff Huson: Nope. Last year, I think only five guys played all 162 games. That’s impressive—but 2,131? Let alone 2,632? Unthinkable. It won’t be matched.
Robby Incmikoski: So looking back, 30 years later… what does it mean to you that you were in that game?
Jeff Huson: I’m in awe. I’ve had a pretty incredible ride in baseball. Played in two of Nolan Ryan’s no-hitters. Was there for his 300th win. And then this. I really do feel like the Forrest Gump of baseball. I just showed up, and history happened around me.
I walk into my office, see the pictures from that night—one of Cal making the lap, another of the sports page from the next day—and it takes me back to why I love this game. Baseball has brought me more joy than I could ever describe. Those ballparks? They’re more than buildings. They hold your memories. They are the memories.
Robby Incmikoski: You mentioned Cal gave you those signed pictures?
Jeff Huson: Yeah. One says, “Huey, get out of the way.” The other says, “Huey, now more than ever, I needed you to catch those balls to your left.” I mean… come on. That’s gold. You can't put a price on that.
Robby Incmikoski: And this was all at Camden Yards. Does it feel even more special now, knowing you were there for one of the most historic nights in that park’s history?
Jeff Huson: Absolutely. Every time I go back there as a broadcaster, I think about it. I’ll stand there, look out at that warehouse, and just go, “Man, what a night.” There’s something sacred about that field. And being on it that night… I’ll carry that with me forever.
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More from Jeff Huson
NOTE: The above was edited for clarity and length.
You can read the full transcript here.