Neil Walker
I always ask the same thing—what makes a ballpark special? And with Neil, I didn’t even have to finish the sentence. You talk PNC Park and the guy lights up. What’s it like to walk over the Clemente Bridge to work? What’s it like to see a sea of black in the stands on Wild Card night? What’s it like to sit where your dad always sat—and now have those seats in your living room? This one’s not about stats. It’s about connection.
You played at PNC Park and now you’re a broadcaster at PNC Park. How special is that place, and how would you put it into words—how great a ballpark that is?
I always had an interesting perspective on PNC Park. I think the first day I went there was maybe the second game ever played there, back in 2001. I was in high school. It’s kind of like living by the beach—you get used to the environment and take it for granted. But anytime somebody would ask me, “What’s your favorite ballpark?” PNC was always number one.
In the back of my head I’d think, “Am I being biased because I’m from here?” But then you look at rankings and articles—PNC Park is always in the top three.
It was always my favorite for the beauty of downtown, the three rivers converging behind right field, and the layout opening toward the city. You don’t see that in many ballparks. Even as a road player, guys would talk about how great it was to stay downtown and walk over the Clemente Bridge to get to the park. That kind of freedom is rare in baseball.
Something as simple as walking to work over a bridge, seeing the skyline—it seems small, but over a six-month season, it’s huge. That’s what made PNC Park so unique.
What do you remember about the first time you were at PNC Park? You were fifteen years old at the time—I looked it up.
I was probably a sophomore in high school. I remember going down there with friends just to see the layout—especially compared to Three Rivers Stadium. I stood behind home plate on the first level, looked out, and said, “Oh my gosh, this is incredible.” I’d only been to a handful of ballparks at that point, but even then I knew—this one was special.
What’s it like seeing the ballpark now, from the broadcast booth?
Incredible. I’d maybe been up there three or four times before as a player—for an event or a meeting. But sitting in that TV booth now? You’re basically behind home plate, just elevated. You can see the entire Clemente Bridge, most of the downtown buildings, boats on the river—it’s just beautiful.
You got the actual seats your dad used to sit in, right?
Yeah. My dad’s favorite spot was in the club level, right by the camera well—no one in front or behind you. I used to sit there with him even before I was in pro ball. Just thought they were the best seats in the house. When I got the chance, I got those exact seats—18 and 19. Those were also my jersey numbers as a Pirate. We just passed the anniversary of his death. I gave the seats to my mom. That was really meaningful.
What would you tell a first-time fan coming to PNC Park?
You’re going to be blown away. The ballpark itself is beautiful, sure. But when you walk in through the rotunda and look out over the field—the Clemente Wall, the bridge, the city—it just hits you. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t say, “That’s one of the most beautiful ballparks I’ve ever seen.”
And it’s not just the view. You can walk so close to the bullpen in left-center that it feels like you could reach out and touch the players. There’s a chain-link fence halfway up the Clemente Wall—some of the best views for watching BP are right there. No obstructions, just you and the game.
I always say: sit as high behind home plate as you can. Best view in baseball.
I agree. And if you’re in standing room, that rotunda down the left-field line is awesome—especially during our playoff years. People would tell me they loved it: you’re standing, you have freedom to move, and a great view. It became a social space, not just a place to stand.
Last thing on PNC before we move on. The 2013 Wild Card Game. You had an RBI double, but what do you remember most about that night?
It was different. About 30 minutes before the game, the clubhouse was quiet. Then we started to hear this rumble. Guys looked at each other—“What is that?” It was the crowd. I’d never heard anything like it through all that concrete.
When we walked out to the dugout—oh my God. All you saw was a sea of black. Cutch had asked fans to wear black. There were some red shirts for the Reds, sure, but mostly it was black. I get goosebumps just thinking about it.
I’ve played in the postseason with the Mets and Yankees. Nothing compares to that night in Pittsburgh.
What did that game mean to the city?
It represented twenty-plus years of frustration. I felt it as a player and a fan. I don’t know if the other guys really understood. But for me, that game meant everything.
I remember when we clinched a non-losing season—win number 82—I made the final out. I asked for the ball. Guys were like, “Why?” They had no idea. I said, “This means something to the city. We’re bringing people back to baseball here.”
I still have that ball. It’s engraved: September 9, 2013. Gerrit Cole, Yu Darvish, Mark Melancon. 82 wins.
And now, years later, how do you reflect on all this?
It’s funny—you don’t fully appreciate it in the moment. You’re just grinding: eat, prep, BP, game, home. But there are certain days that stick. That Wild Card Game. Strasburg’s debut. Your first home run. You remember those.
I think about the fans—how many people probably still have their ticket stub from that night. That’s what makes baseball special. Parks like PNC don’t just host games. They make memories.
And now, being a dad, a broadcaster—I appreciate it all a little more. You’re not in the middle of the grind. You can step back and say, “That was sacred.”
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NOTE: The above was edited for clarity and length.
You can read the full transcript here.